A/N: Hey guys, sorry this took so long my Beta Johny (who is the man!) ran off to Norway on vacation for two weeks so he had a lot of work waiting for him when he got back lol. But it's here, yay! I just wanna thank you all for being amazing and awesome. I've actually had the chance to talk with a few of you personally and makes me really grateful to know how nice you all are! So thank you for being great, all of you, and if you ever have questions about this story or in general (like how to start a fanfic or something like that) please feel free to ask. I'm always willing to help you guys on your creative endeavors. I wouldn't still be writing if I didn't have people to show me the ropes. (And trust me I need those ropes shown to be... a lot XD)
With Love- Ophelia :)
Damned if You Do, Damned if You Don't
"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." -William Shakespeare
Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. William Shakespeare
Read more at: quotes/quotes/w/williamsha101484.h
Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. William Shakespeare
Read more at: .
The four young men (and Duela) waited on the side of the road after somehow guiding the demolished Ford off the lonely stretch of pavement. Jason had patched up Rose's leg wound before she recruited the truck driver to help her dispose of the "collateral damage."
However, the scruffy man protested, stating that corpse disposal was not a part of the deal.
"Really," the white haired girl spat as she limped, "you're being paid a generous mortgage payment to smuggle cocaine across state lines, but you're above driving a couple dead bodies to the edge of a river bank?"
The man only looked toward Jason, who couldn't help but chuckle behind his red helmet. "Girl's got a point. You're not exactly the picture of morality, man."
"Not to mention, a cop could come along at any given moment, and you standing here, talking to us, makes you an Accomplice to Murder," X added ambiguously.
"And currently, you're Aiding & Abetting," Rose said dryly, plucking a cigarette out of Jason's hand. "So if you don't want any of that to blow back on you—not to mention the wrath of my father - you'll open up that Goddamn trailer and help us make these bodies disappear. Got it?"
And that's when the driver submitted to Rose's quest.
"God, she loves playing that Daddy Card," Jason said, recalling the earlier argument.
"Ah," Dick mused, "your girl has an Ophelia Complex too?"
Jason laughed a little and scratch his chin with his thumb nail. "Yeah, that's actually quite accurate. Aren't you clever…"
Dick shook his head modestly and took notice of the lustrous moon again. "No, Raven's the clever one."
"Hmm, she also has serious a case of the Daddy Issues, as I understand?"
"Her Daddy Issues are epic," Dick laughed, but awkwardly tried to cease the humor.
"She sounds complicated."
"She is, complexity is kinda her virtue, but her complications make her stronger," Dick concluded, knowing Raven would kill him for even breathing a word of her convolutions.
Jason's face grew flat, and stern, recalling Raven's earlier battle. "I don't doubt that girl doesn't need her dad to take care of her shit."
"God, no," Dick sighed. "She doesn't need any man to take care of her shit." He chuckled as he stared down the road. "What about Rose, she looks like she can handle herself?"
Jason took another long drag and exhaled roughly. "She's plenty capable, but her dad is the devil on her shoulder, if you know what I mean?"
Dick looked down, understanding the feeling for more reason than one. "I can see that."
"I think any son of Bruce Wayne can." Jason noticed headlights shining as they broke in the horizon and threw his cigarette in the dirt. "I think our tow's here."
The lights grew with more intensity as they drove down the blackened pavement, their glare offering a strange salvation as the shadow of a large ramp truck took shape in the distance. Within moments the strong smell of freshly burnt diesel filled the night air, its heavy engine growling as it drank.
"You girls look like you need a ride," said a charming, yet goofy red-head Dick immediately recognized.
"Wally?"
"Hey, Dick! So you really are working for Jason—huh? And here I thought Jinx was just making shit up again."
An odd look fell over the hero's face at the sight of his old friend, Wally West, as he leaned out the driver's side window carelessly.
"So Jinx said something about you guys hitting a deer?"
"Yeah," Jason shrugged as though it were the truth.
Wally nodded and jumped out of the rather high cab and down to dirt below. He chuckled a little as he looked over at Dick again and shook his head with a wondrous expression.
"What?" Dick muttered as he and Wally followed Jason over to the pitifully looking SUV.
"Noth'n, just never thought I'd see the day, is all."
Wally had a familiar shit-eating grin on his face that he wore often, always expressing a childish humor and amusement. Fine wrinkles would always form in the outer corners of his green eyes as they lit up with curiosity, and his mouth would smile mischievously like an adolescent's.
However, before Dick could defend his situation to his old friend, and beg him to keep his smiling mouth shut, Wally's shit-eating grin fell to a gasp.
"What the fuck?" he uttered in shock. "That must have been a really—big—deer?"
The four young men all grimaced awkwardly at Wally's animated reaction.
"Well, it was more like a couple of deer," X corrected, his voice vague and diluted.
Dick just rolled his eyes as Wally began to look over the damage with a crass expression.
"These deer wouldn't happen to have been touting 9mils, would they?"
"They may have had Glocks," Jason shrugged as though it were mundane. "It's possible the deer were also Italian, maybe Russian."
"Well I guess you can't trust those damn deer then?"
Jason laughed at Wally's quick wit. It seemed that even when ignoring basic facts of the law, Wally could still crack a smile.
"So Wal, what we looking at in damages?"
"Well," the speedster began with a questionable look, "as you can obviously see, you need a new windshield. Y'know since you won't spring for deer-proof glass."
"Hey, I'm not fucking Batman, I'm on a budget."
"Yeah you'll drop 30 grand on guns, but won't fork over the cash for the lifesaving glass, you cheap son of a—"
"Hey Wally, less overanalyzing my finances, more figuring out how to fix the damn car," Jason drawled and pointed to the shot up Ford.
"Whatever, just try'n to save you some money, but no, blame the mechanic—"
"Wally!" Both Dick and Jason yelled in unison.
"Okay!" Wally spat, putting his hands up sarcastically. "As I was saying, before being so rudely interrupted, just the glass and the tires are gonna bring you far over a grand. You'll definitely need a new radiator and a lot of body work, so you're looking at like 18—1900—plus new windows, new paint, and mirrors… I guess what I'm trying to say is—she's completely shot to hell… pun intended."
"I can see that?" Jason drawled condescendingly. "Thank you so much for pointing that out."
"Honestly, with all the work you're gonna have to put into it—this shit-box his probably worth more in scrap metal."
"Shit," Jason mumbled, "what are our options?"
"Well, I can see what I can do with the paper work, deer are known for totaling cars. But that would be—"
"Insurance fraud?" Dick interrupted, finishing Wally's thought.
"Yeah… that's exactly what I was gonna say. Thanks Dick, you're a pal," Wally patronized with a sly smile.
"So what's the second option," X asked tiredly.
"Well, there's a place over in Blüdhaven that specializes in car parts. They'll take anything—" Wally said and looked back at the current condition of the car, "—no questions asked."
"Yeah that's probably the best course of action, but how about you take a better look at it tomorrow and we'll make our decision then?"
"Sounds like a plan," Wally replied and shook Jason's hand. "Now let's get this heap on the ramp before the cops show up. Something tells me they aren't gonna buy that you hit a deer."
8888
She stumbled into the room, not even stopping to hold the door open for the young man behind her as she entered their dark apartment. He flicked on the light, looking at his fiancé questionably as she pulled a duffle out from beneath their bed. She quickly began moving through the small apartment, grabbing clothing and pictures at frantic will.
"Babe, what are you doing?" he asked, finally.
"Packing—what's it look like?" She pulled open a vent, and began removing a few stacks of cash from its depths, throwing it inside the bag. "We're not sticking around to see what Santo's gonna do."
He closed the door and sauntered to their bed, falling to it wearily. "Helena, stop. Running's just gonna make shit worse… you know that."
She turned to him as he sat there, silently pleading with her to take a breath. She was so cynical. Nearly so much so that she left little room for hope sometimes. He often wondered how she wasn't a nihilist.
"Well what are we supposed to do then? Tell Santo that we got our shit wrecked?" She spat with a frown.
"So we fucked up, it happens."
"No Michael, you fucked up," the Sicilian girl corrected. "I just helped convince that son of a bitch that you wouldn't. Now we're both as good as dead!"
She gripped that bag, its mouth agape as if crying to be fed.
He looked back at her and frowned. "Your dad's not gonna clip his own kid."
"Shows how much you know." She threw the bag at the young man and stormed into the kitchen to pour herself a drink. She slammed down a wine glass, its delicate cling echoing brightly as she popped open a cheap merlot. "Plus I've only really been his daughter a few years now, it's not like the man raised me... I mean he can hardly look at me."
"I know, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna hear us out."
She took a sip of her wine, its taste thin and weakened, reminding her of a time in her life when the wine was much richer. "I wish my uncle were here. God, I miss him."
Michael got up, leaving the bag on the bed and approached his fiancé at the counter. "Listen babe, I know this didn't go down the way we hoped, but your dad's gotta understand that we're not the big guys anymore, and it might take a few hits before we sink the giant."
"And what if he doesn't understand? What if he thinks we could'a done better?"
"Well we didn't—I'll own that."
"Owning it could get you killed," she frowned.
"It won't."
She placed her lips to the glass and swore in Italian. This made him laugh a little, it always did. He always wondered how she could get so much satisfaction out of such lyrical and delicate obscenities. He'd always felt that Italian was far too romantic a language to harbor profanity. That's what English was for.
"Well fuck is right, but we'll get through this, we always do."
She turned to him, holding her wine at her clavicle. "Can't we just leave, run off somewhere, and get married?"
He smiled at her, the romantic notion tempting. "Then Santo would really cut off my fuck'n balls."
Her eyes fell from him and toward the five dollar wine, cradled in a stolen Olive Garden glass. The mighty really had fallen.
"We'll get married soon, I promise," he reassured, lifting her chin. "But I can't do that till I can take care of you."
"I don't need you to take care of me, Mikey."
"Seriously? Look around you, this apartment is in the shitteist part of town, we live hand to mouth and your drinking boxed wine out of a 2-dollar glass we stole from fuck'n Olive Garden! You grew up in a powerful family, in a beautiful home. A woman like you should be treated like a damn princess, not forced to sip tasteless wine in shithole like this."
He turned around and sat himself at the table, looking down at the scratched surface while the florescent light flicked to remind him of his place. Helena placed down her glass, looking over at her lover, his wounded pride gaping before her. It reminded her of her uncle Franco, who'd raised her. He'd always put his family first, every move, every decision, revolved around his children and wife. He'd die before he lost his ability to put food on the table, and in the end, that was what happened.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, his face buried in his hands. He was worried, she knew he was, but for her, he'd wear that straight face and tell her it was alright, even if it wasn't. And she loved him for that.
"Mikey, it's gonna be okay, we'll figure it out," she cooed, placing herself in his lap.
"I just wanna give you the world, I want you to be proud of me."
"I am, Mikey," she smiled weakly, "I wouldn't be here if I weren't."
She rested her forehead on his, the two sharing a tired smile. Neither one of them may have had all the answers, but that didn't matter in that moment. They had each other and that was what would get them through the night… and maybe tomorrow.
8888
After about 15 minutes of Wally's antics, and a—large—team effort, the group was able to get the SUV on the ramp and securely tie it down, along with the 80's style Crown Vic they'd been hit by. Wally, knowing that the vehicles would raise some rather unwanted questions, made sure to cover them, and was now double checking the restraints. As he was doing so, Dick approached him, a burning question on the scorching tip of his tongue. However, before he could even breathe a word of this inquiry, Wally spoke for him.
"Hey Wally, what are you doing here?"
Dick paused, his mouth still open as he hadn't even finished inhaling. "Wait—what?"
"That's exactly what you were about to say, right?"
Wally glanced over to the hero, whose face fell awkwardly at the statement. "So I'm that predictable, huh?"
Wally smirked and gave his friend a weary shrug. "No, I was just gonna ask you the same thing. Though I think I have an idea of the kinda of answer I'm about to get."
"So I am that predictable." Dick leaned back on the ramp and freed a tired breath from his lungs, his shoulders falling from the weight.
"Honestly, I thought you were very predictable, "Wally began, "but in truth, I would have never believed this if I hadn't seen for myself." Wally took a seat across from Dick on a nearby rock and crossed his arms. "Barry told me what happened with the League. I'm sorry they did that to you. And, I'm sorry you had to go through that with Rancid."
Dick looked off and stiffened his jaw bitterly as though he could actually taste Wally's sincerity. The moon still hung above, though now she had lowered, moving closer to the threatening hour of dawn, forfeiting her watch. Wally really did understand the weight of the world and the part that everyone played in it, it was why he gave up being a hero.
"So why'd Barry tell you?" Dick finally asked through his indignity.
"Because I think he thought it would give me a reason to put on my colors and start running again. But honestly, it just made me wanna run further away."
Dick shook his head in both humor and irony. "Sometimes I wonder if that's what I do best."
He sighed as the red-head shrugged carelessly in his dirty mechanic's uniform.
"You and me both. I'm just not ready to give up my life and walk away from everything that's important to me—not anymore."
"Is that why you're here?"
Wally smiled and bit his upper lip a moment as though he were actually biting into the irony itself. "Yes and no. I'm not here to piss off the League. I'm just here because Jinx asked me to be."
"So you are still with her…"
"Yeah," Wally replied a little defensively, "I mean… she may not be on the straight and narrow, but she's not the horrible person people make her out to be—"
"I get it. You love her," Dick said, recalling a time when Wally had made it his mission to convert Jinx to the side of good. However, that conversion was very brief, and it crushed Wally to lose her. But that still wasn't the end of their little love affair. Wally could only keep free of that girl for so long—she was his curse. "You could never shake that girl."
"I never wanted to," Wally laughed bitterly. "I know everyone looks at her as the girl that took me away from my obligations, but what it really came down to was living in a world with her, versus, living in a world she could never be a part of. And to be honest, I never wanted to be a part of our world. I just wanted to be a normal guy, live a normal life, and dream of a bigger one. But I got my bigger dream and I grew to resent it. Jinx was my way out."
Dick looked down. He remembered how hard it was for Wally to even be with Jinx (even when she was briefly a Titan). No one trusted her, especially not the League. Jinx reminded him a lot of how Raven used to be, always alone, feeling lost and out of place, always trying to prove she wasn't that bad.
Dick was one of those people who questioned her, but not because he was trying to prove her intentions were cruel, but because he wanted to protect his friends—his family. He wanted to protect Wally. But in the end, it seemed the only thing Wally needed protection from, was the world he'd grown to resent.
The League gave Wally a choice; he could either stay clear of Jinx, or he could give up his mantle. I think we all know by now what life Wally chose.
"I guess the League couldn't look passed their ideology to see that."
"See what?" Wally asked looking up at the other ex-Titan.
"That all you needed was an excuse."
"I didn't need an excuse, Dick," Wally corrected. "I needed to see that it just wasn't right for me anymore. I needed to know who I was outside of Kid Flash and outside the League and the legend I was overshadowed by. I wasn't sure if that was really who I wanted to become."
"I know that now."
Dick glanced over at Wally, a look of familiar dejection upon his weathered front. One that only Wally and a few others could recognize. It was a look he'd seen upon his own face as it reflected back on him with scorn and rejection. For a time, Wally thought of it as not being good enough or not making the cut, but in time, he began to see it for what it was—truth.
"At least they gave you a choice," Dick added and glanced at the sky again.
"Hmm," Wally huffed with aversion, "they didn't give me a choice, they acted like they did."
Dick smiled with bitterness as the thought came to full fruition. The League didn't give choices, they gave ultimatums that had hard consequences if they were not met. For Dick, it was unforeseen punishment, and for Wally it was exile. Only in Wally's case, that was what he really wanted, and in the end, the League over played their hand and actually lost.
Part of Dick wished he could have played his hand better, that he too could have made them regret putting him in such a quandary. But as far as he saw it, the only hand they gave him would have buried him. And in the end, he'd be the one with no real card to play. He'd just be the fool.
Just then, Jason came around the corner, followed by X, Duala, and Mutt, who still touted his not so loaded M16.
"Ready to head back?"
The two ex-Titans looked back at Jason and nodded, Wally stepping forward to head to the truck. Dick followed, but was stopped by Jason before he could reach the truck bed.
"You good?" Jason asked, noticing the hero was still aching from the gunfire he'd taken.
Dick glanced away, unsure of what to really say. He wasn't good with anything he'd been doing lately, but in truth, tonight was just another indiscretion among many. What could he say to that?
"I don't know."
Jason crossed his arms, his expression not surprised, but he clearly wanted something less ambiguous.
"I get that, this is the deep end for you, but it's part of the territory, Grayson. If you stay, you're gonna have to learn to get right with it."
"I know," Dick grimaced, his words painful and empty, "but getting right with it is gonna take time."
"In this world, time is something you may not have a lot of. You may want to think about that next time you're faced with pulling the trigger."
"Yeah, cause God knows I don't have enough to keep me awake at night."
8888
Raven had just finished pulling the slug out of Schizo's shoulder and was getting ready to heal his gaping wound. Clancy had left the room as Jinx had directed, leaving her and Raven alone. The sorceress removed her stained gloves, slick with blood, and cast them aside. She allowed her thin fingers to softly gliding over the bloody flesh, her hands igniting with an energy of pitch-black.
Jinx noticed her hands trembled slightly as they reached out to touch Schizo's gored shoulder. "Something wrong?"
Raven peered up at the pink-haired girl, her cat-like eyes nearly driving their way into her Raven's soul. She always hated that. "No."
"You just seem a little hesitant, is all?" Jinx replied, pink eyes still locked in stare.
Raven placed her hand on the skin-head's shoulder and glanced down. "Yeah well, this kind of magic isn't exactly… impersonal."
"You can feel the pain?"
"Yeah," Raven mumbled as her eyes fluttered down, "both physical and emotional. That's my gift."
"That sucks."
"Just one of the many perks of being an empath."
Jinx could practically taste the irony in her words, the venom and loathing for her curse. She knew that feeling all too well. "Well if it puts such a hindrance on you, then why do you do it?"
Raven looked up at Jinx with a pondering glance, her hands still encased in her black healing energy.
"Well, what kind of person would I be if just I let him die?" Raven bit down on her lip, trying to not show the pain that burned in her. A foreign sense of inner loathing also leeching off her heart.
Jinx could see this, but only because, she too, knew the toll sorcery could place upon its caster. How it could slowly eat away at their faith, fortune, body, and more likely, soul.
Jinx rolled her pink eyes sardonically. "Who would have thought the daughter of Trigon the Terrible could have such a sense of duty?"
Raven let free a soft, but smug smile. "Yeah, I'm such a saint," the dark witch quipped, removing her hands from the man's wound, which was now shallow and only a brief reminder of death. "I was taught it doesn't matter how horrible someone is, as a healer, it's my obligation to help them to best the of my ability."
"I didn't realize healers had to take the Hippocratic Oath," Jinx joked. "But seriously, it sounds a little burdensome."
"It can be," Raven mumbled with a little resentment. "But like I said, it's my gift… and as long as it's my gift, it's also my burden."
"At least your gift can help people," Jinx sighed, releasing some unhinged bitterness.
Raven stared at her a moment before picking up a bottle of antiseptic and fresh gauze pads. "Sometimes we just have to make the most of what we're given."
Jinx sat down on the bed and shrugged. 'You're not wrong, but when you grow up being told that nothing good can ever come of you and your "gift" a part of you will always believe that."
"Is that what happened to you?"
"Oh, now you want my sob story?" Jinx sighed sarcastically. "You never wanted to hear it when I was trying to play nice."
"I didn't trust you then."
"And you trust me now?"
Raven didn't say anything for a minute, she just finished cleaning the shallow bullet hole left in Schizo's flesh.
"If it makes you feel any better, I don't really trust you either," Jinx finally said alleviating the silence.
"Yeah, I got that." Raven placed down the gauze and began dressing the wound. "Listen Jinx, I know we don't trust each other, and I'm not saying that we ever will, but… I don't know how this is supposed to work if we don't?"
Jinx glanced at the wall a long moment and pursed her lips in thought, then turned to Raven and said, "I don't know how this works either. But… for now, just keep the skin-head breathing, beyond that, I don't know how this works."
8888
It was late (or early depending on your definition of the hour). It was around 2 am by the time Jason and his team got back to the bar. Wally had driven X, Dick, and Mutt back to the Wolf's Head, the ride being quite cramped and uncomfortable. Mutt passed the time by telling some unconventional stories, one in particular that involved "saving his balls." Which, of course, was received with mixed reviews.
"That seems really uncomfortable," Wally mused, he had, of course, been egging on the subject the whole way home, finding it all to amusing.
"Yeah, that's why I don't do it anymore," Mutt replied nonchalantly.
"I've only known you 24 hours, and the only thing I really know about you is that you got razor burn on your nuts," Dick said, aimlessly staring in disbelief as X shook his head.
"I still think it's kinda gay."
"It's not gay, X. Plenty of straight guys shave their shit," Mutt defended. "It no different than trimming."
"Dude there's a big difference between trimming the hedges and mowing the lawn."
"Haha," Wally laughed as he parked the car and opened his door, "If I shaved my nuts, Jinx would probably go the full mile and just cut them off, save me the trouble." As Wally said this, Jason pulled beside him and removed his helmet.
"Why would you shave your nuts in the first place?" Jason asked, not understanding the context.
"Don't ask me, man, ask Mutt. He's the one who got curious," Wally playfully defended.
Jason looked at Mutt, who shrugged crudely, not really sure what to say to his leader, and embarrassed that Duela was present. But before the young man could defend his manscaping experiences, Jason stopped him.
"Y'know what, I don't wanna know."
Jason dismounted his Harley as everyone stumbled inside, Duela giggling as she removed her helmet.
"Y'know Mutt, I, on the other hand, would love to hear all about it," she said with a dubious wink, making Mutt smile nervously.
Once in the bar, the men were greeted by Clancy, Jinx, and Hogan, who were going over the events of the night.
"Ah boys," Clancy said warmly, "I hear y'had an exciting night?"
"Not as exciting as Schizo's. The skinhead gonna make?" Jason asked, taking off his gloves as Clancy poured him a whisky.
"He's gonna be fine," Jinx smiled as she spotted Wally, her kitten eyes lighting up as he locked in her sights.
Wally returned the warm look and approached her with a longing that never seemed to burn out. The redhead wrapped his arms around her waist and Jinx let her arms fall around his neck.
"I missed you," she cooed and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, standing up on her tiptoes.
"Of course you did."
Jinx rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Yeah you're lucky I love your goofy ass. Now take me home before I come to my senses."
"Yes ma'am," Wally replied with a nod and added, "I just gotta drop off the scrap metal back at the shop, then I'll get you home to bed."
"I might not be in the mood by then, Red," Jinx retorted, patting his chest. "I'll meet you in the truck."
"Kay, Babe," Wally called as he watched her walk away and bid everyone goodnight then caught up to Jinx and asked faintly, "So what would'y think if I shaved my balls?"
"Wally, you have the Irish curse, mowing down the pumpkin patch isn't gonna help."
Clancy shared an awkward glance with Dick and Jason, who cracked shallow smile.
"That's unfortunate," X muttered sipping his beer.
The four shared short, tired laugh, somehow finding the fragile plea for humor.
"Well I'm kicked to shit," Jason drawled as he knocked back his whisky. "I'm turning in for the night. Everyone good?"
"Aye, you head up, darl'n. I think everyone's good here. I'll take care of Mr. Grayson if he needs anything," Clancy replied richly.
Jason nodded and smiled tiredly, bidding everyone goodnight in a mottled tone. He gave Dick a long look, but said nothing as the hero stood with his arms crossed and his manner closed off. However, the two said nothing with the exchange, and Jason disappeared through the curtain.
Once the Hood was gone, Dick's eyes moved to the bar where X had seated himself with a bottle of beer he was practically halfway through.
"Long day," Dick said and walked toward him.
X, nodded as he took down a swig. "Yeah, you were there for it."
"It wasn't a question," the hero shrugged as he noticed Raven was nowhere to be found. "Hey Clanc, where's Rae?"
Clancy placed down a mug on a tray as she replied, "Oh she's upstairs, she's just finishing up with Dana."
"Who's Dana?" Dick asked as X began to chuckle. "What?"
The thief took another sip if his beer and pointed to him. "Someone who with a name almost as shitty as yours, Chuckles."
Clancy leaned over on the bar and shook her head disapprovingly. "He's referring to Schizo, love. His given name is Dana and he's every insecure about it."
"Cause it's awful," X added.
"At least the boy has a name, unlike you, mister I don't want the world know'n who I am." Clancy mocked and poured some hot water into the mug. "And by the way, my grandfather's name was Dana, I think it's lovely."
"Okay Clanc, I'm sorry. I didn't know," X chuckled, trying to put out the fire he'd lit.
"You're lucky you got a face like that, love. Otherwise you wouldn't want to know what you'd find in your pint."
The smile on X's face faded as the boy lifted his bottle and inspected his beer like a child.
Dick laughed as he did so, then caught Clancy's attention as she watched in a twisted amusement.
"So you said Raven's was upstairs?"
"Aye. With all the acting the maggot, I forgot I was fix'n the poor dear a cuppa tea."
"Wow," Dick laughed nostalgically, "I haven't heard anyone say that in a very long time."
"Say what boyo?"
"Acting the Maggot," Dick uttered with disbelief. "My dad was from Belfast so he um—"
"He talked like an Irish git?
"Well sorta, I wouldn't say my father was a git."
"I was just joke'n, boyo. I would never talk ill of anyone's dad, except maybe my friend Shelby's. Aw, now that man was a real Eejit."
"What's an Eejit?" X asked perplexed.
Clancy only shook her head disapprovingly at the thief and finished fixing Raven her tea as Dick offered to bring it up.
"Thanks Clancy, have a goodnight."
"Aw you're welcome, love. Just holler if y'need anything. I'll be babysitting this lil' pisser al'night." She said pointing to X.
Dick laughed at X's despair, though X didn't really seem all that offended by her comment, and with that, the hero headed up the stairs. He was tired, both physically and emotionally, but even though what had transpired was something of a criminal nature, Dick found some strange freedom in it, and that was what really frightened him.
He recalled something Slade had said to him years ago when he'd forced a young Robin into being his apprentice. Slade had made it a point to bring to light something the sinister man had found interesting, and that was the fact that Dick found operating outside the law exciting. Dick hated that Slade could think such a thing, and accused him of actually enjoying such malicious behavior. At least that's what Dick liked to tell himself. However, the truth was, deep down, he did enjoy running off the path. He may not have run into the woods for long, but part of him actually felt right at home there. Part of him wanted that freedom. Only for Dick there was no freedom, his actions weren't conducted by choice, and even if they were, he couldn't betray himself like that. So why was he doing it now?
He walked up the aged flight of steps and made his way along the dim light of the hallway. The floor boards groaned under each step, the old wood scratched by the years that rolled over it. The cup was warm in his hand as he pulled open the apartment door with the other, the cry of the hinges making a bright sound as they sang. This place was so different and so far from home—so far from the Tower, but there was something about its character he found endearing—well sort of.
As the door swung open, he noticed Raven sitting in a chair across from the bed, her posture leaning forward and her hands clasped in front of her lips, delicately biting the tip of her thumb. Her eyes were instilled in deep thought, pondering far beyond the cheaply paneled walls around her. Her gaze immediately shot in his direction, their violet glow muted in their exhaustion.
"Hey, I brought your tea," Dick greeted, offering a smile as he closed the door.
Raven uttered a "thank you" and took the cup, stealing a sip before she spoke, "You look like you're in pain?"
"I'm fine."
Dick leaned against the foot of the bed, trying to the swallow the agony that raged with every subtle breath taken. She could tell he was lying, he could see it in those weary eyes that studied him, she knew him too well. She placed her cup down and sat up straight, the only thing that was missing were the words that usually came with this posture.
"You have two cracked ribs," Raven finally drawled. "You should really let me help you."
Dick crossed his arms, his eyes taking in her worn exterior. "You've already put enough stress on yourself, Rae. I can't ask any more of you."
"You haven't asked anything of me," she replied, her voice hollow and raspy, "I did what I had to… now… I have to help you."
"You don't, Raven."
"I want to."
"I don't want you to. You need to take care of you."
Dick pointed to Raven's chest, causing her to look down and notice that her grey tank top was stained with blood.
"Shit," she muttered and rose from her chair, removing the solid shirt without even a second thought. She turned to the bathroom and threw the garment in the trash despairingly. "I'm gonna shower and try to wash the last few days off me. When I'm done, I'm gonna fix your ribs, whether you want me to or not. Got it, Grayson?"
"Yes mother," he said a little begrudgingly, but cracked a smile.
She smiled before closing the door. "Your mother would agree with me."
"About what?"
"That you're a pain in the ass."
Raven closed the door with a grin before Dick could retort, not that he was lucid enough to come up with anything even remotely clever. Once the door was closed he rose from the foot of the bed and began removing his shirt, his ribs protesting in pain. He pulled off his black sweater, letting it fall to the floor. This feeling wasn't anything new, but he'd never been hit with that many rounds at once before. Normally, he'd have one or two knock the wind out of him, but 5 shots to the back left him feeling fragile and broken. Even breathing was torture, every broken blood vessel and cracked bone screaming in reproach.
Standing was also something he didn't quite have the will for, and he let his body slowly bring itself to the bed below him, laying on his stomach. His body was tired, but his mind was still racing, tangled with opposition. There were many things that just didn't sit right with him, and yet, he let those things guide him. But in the end, he had to ask himself, was it worth it?
The thought left him with a sour look, but his will to care further was loosened by the heaviness of his eye lids. He let them close a minute—a peaceful minute. This was something he had not tasted in quite some time. His mind being too full and too overpowered by the scent of failure, and the taste of loss—reality. Every night a feeling hung in his stomach, a sick feeling that turned and beat like a dark pit of nothing, yet it was so full of sadness and fear. But now, there was just nothing, as judgment wasn't yet coming for him, and here, no one could judge. And for this, he was able to find sleep.
8888
Jason entered his apartment and flicked the light on, the dim glare filling the room with reflections of shadows, something he didn't mind. He removed his coat tiredly, aimlessly placing it on the couch as he walked by. He made his way to the counter, his fatigued body finding it hard not to occasionally stumble along the way. He peered down once he reached it and picked up a lighter that sat patiently on the laminate. Taking the item in his grasp, he lit his cigarette and inhaled the foul smoke. He freed the bitter fog from his lungs slowly, then inhaled again, taking into account his surroundings. Looking down at the lighter again, he realized something was off and reached in his pocket to pull out his lighter.
He glared at it for a moment, and rolled his as he called, "I know you're here, you can stop hiding now."
"Uh you're no fun, JT," he heard her sigh as she sauntered out of the bedroom.
She was already wearing his shirt, the one she liked best, its black material hanging off her endearingly, contrasting with her wintery hair.
"Comfortable?" Jason asked and plopped down on his beat leather couch.
She smiled as she slipped down next to him and placed her chilled legs over his. He let his free hand travel along her thigh, noticing the crude stich job she'd given herself.
"You should've waited for me to do that for you," he said looking at the gash and the threads that held her flesh together.
"I'll heal just fine, you know I will."
She let her hands run through his hair a moment, a smoky smell on her breath as she took the cigarette from Jason's lips and kissed him. After a moment she pulled away, and took a long drag, blowing the smoke into the air.
"I can take care of myself."
She took another drag before handing it back to him. He accepted it with his thumb and index finger, smoking it for a brief moment. He looked over at her, her need for independence and self-fulfillment clear in the smirk on her face.
"I know, but that doesn't mean I can't do nice things for you. Y'know, if it makes you happy…"
He passed her the cigarette as she smiled, taking a quick drag and kissing him again. Jason let his hand travel to her back and pulled her a little closer. They could both feel the heat growing between them, but before things could really go any further, Jason found himself asking her a question.
"Not to kill the mood, but how'd the talk with your dad go?"
Rose took another puff, annoyed with the question. "Then stop killing it."
She leaned into him again, but was met with frustration.
"Yeah, well there'll be no mood if he kills me..." Jason sang playfully taking the cigarette from her and tapped it on the ash tray.
"Like I'd let that happen," she droned, sounding sure of herself. "But yeah I told him the shipment was safe, and that it got completed. I said you took care of it."
"What he say?"
"Good." Rose laced her fingers around the nape of Jason's neck with a longing, and leaned her forehead on his, a flirtatious look in her eye. "So that means you have to deal with me."
She leaned in to kiss him again, but stopped as she heard Jason say, "In that case, I'd rather deal with your dad."
"Okay, have fun discovering what prison's like."
Jason let a laugh free as his lips grew into a smile and pulled Rose to him once more. She let her arms wrap around him, and her legs followed suit, embracing his waist. He picked her up and placed her on her back, carefully, and laid his body on top of hers. He tucked a few stray stands of silver behind her ear and looked down at her. There was just something about her he found great comfort in, though he wasn't really sure what. But part of him thought that their connection lied in the fact that they both lost something that made them whole. That maybe their connection filled that emptiness they shared. Either way, when he was with her, he felt human.
"You know I'd never let anything happen to you, right?"
Rose looked up at Jason and let her fingertips drift down his neck. "I like to think you'd try."
He hated when she answered like that, when she didn't believe that he could protect her from the one person she need to be protected from—her father.
"I just wish you'd think more of me."
Rose sighed and looked away in frustration. "So much for that…"
She pushed him off her his chest and sat up, but before she could stand, he caught her by the wrist.
"Y'know, you could just humor me."
Rose shrugged and turned her head to him. "That would be cruel of me, we both live in reality. The fact we're even doing this is dangerous—I mean, you remind me of that all the time."
"Yeah, because it is," Jason asserted, his face holding an earnest expression. "But it's cause I'm not afraid of your dad."
"You should be."
Rose got up and opened the fridge, retrieving a beer. She leaned on the counter, opened the bottle and took a long swig.
"But I'm not," Jason replied, meeting her at the counter and placed his on each side of her.
She took another sip of the dark brew, pressing her lips together as the crisp taste lingered on them. "That's cause you're kind of a psycho."
Jason smiled at her coyly and took the beer from her hand. "So are you."
He stole a quick kiss and knocked back the beer before placing it down on the counter beside her.
"No shit," she huffed, but smiled back at him, knowing he meant no harm by it. "Plus I kinda have to be to be hooking up with you."
Her eyes fell from him, and her expression followed. They were both out of their minds.
"Do you really think we're a bad idea?" Rose finally said, looking up at Jason with her brooding, pale eyes.
A more realistic look suppressed Jason's smile, and a heaviness pulled at his heart. "Yeah, I know we're a bad idea," Jason said pushing her hair off her face again, "but my whole life is a bad idea, so I'm okay with us being a bad idea."
Rose couldn't help but smile at the sentimental lament and somehow let her hands fall on Jason's chest. But Jason could see she still wasn't sold on the "bad idea."
"But?"
"But," Rose sighed, "what if this bad idea turns out to be the one that gets you killed."
Her eyes fluttered with confliction as Jason raised his stable hands, holding her face in reassurance.
"I'm not afraid to die, Rose," he said looking down at her and leaned in.
She pushed him away, nearly insulted. Angry that he actually thought those words could bring her anything of comfort. But then again, she was talking to Jason Todd.
"You're the missing the point," she spat and picked the beer, taking a ravenous sip, then downed another. He just didn't get that she didn't want to live in a world without him, or worse; a world where he died because of her.
"No I get it," Jason said, daring to approach her again, "but what I meant to say was that I care about you more than anything… And I'd lay down my life that."
'Damn you, Todd,' she silently scoffed, glaring at him. The words leaving her inner romantic practically eating out of the palm of his hand. She'd never felt that for anyone before, never mind having someone feel that way for her.
She let Jason pulled her into another embrace, hating how easily he could win her over. She was, begrudgingly, in love.
"Y'know there's an irony in there somewhere," Rose said, breaking the kiss for a moment.
Jason lightly laughed in her ear, she'd couldn't just let the moment happen. "There's actually a few."
She rolled her eyes, finally submitting to his charms and threw her arm around his neck. "Well then you better get me to bed before irony kills your chances of getting laid."
He laughed at her tiredly, she could be so crude when she wanted to be. And sadly enough, that was very tame for her. "Only if you say so."
8888
Raven stepped out of the bathroom and flipped off the light, her black hair clinging to her white skin in its damp state. She looked over and noticed Dick lying on the bed, half undressed and his shoes still on. She sighed and shook her head, this sight being nothing out of the ordinary. Raven could recall many times where she'd found him passed out on his bed, only half out of his uniform. This only beaten by the rare (but personal favorite) occasions, when he wouldn't even make into bed and she'd find him on the floor, only a few feet away from his bed.
A cynical smirk cracked on her face as she approached him in the dim lamp light. However, such a smirk didn't last long as she caught sight of the various bruises that plagued his back in black of blue.
"Christ, Grayson," she groaned painfully, noticing the point of impact pictured morbidly on his skin.
She knelt down on the bed beside him, unsure how he could keep such a straight face through such agony. She wasn't even sure how he could breathe. But this was Richard Grayson she was talking about, and if there was one thing Dick could do, it was take a punch (a very hard, sometimes even bone shattering, punch).
"Like hell I'm not gonna fix your broken ribs," she growled, though she knew he couldn't hear her.
She softly placed her hands down on his back, letting them travel as she located the first broken bone. Having located which ribs were fractured and which ones were severely bruised, she took a deep breath and focused as much energy as she could, directing it into the affected bones and flesh. She could immediately feel the burning in her own ribs, as though it were her own frame that was cracked. A slight moan left her throat, her current state was making it more difficult to expel the sensation. However, she bit down and swallowed the pain, continuing to heal him until there was nothing more than minor bruises.
Once she was finished, she let her hands fall heavy on the bed below her. Her head hanging limp as she caught her breath, some pain still boiling in her rib cage. She inhaled deeply and forced the pain out, the affliction not wanting to go willingly. It had been days since she'd last meditated or taken any real time to aide herself—this leaving her mind rusty and unfocused.
"First thing tomorrow," she muttered and noticed Dick's boots again.
She shook her head and began pulling them off, tossing them to the floor without any thought.
"I'm never gonna understand how you can just give up halfway through getting undressed," she said, still aware he couldn't hear her. "You could have at least taken your shoes off."
She chuckled a little, a cynical humor filling her tired head. Raven pulled herself beneath the covers and reached over to shut off the light beside the bed. Once the light in the room died, she slid down to the old mattress (which she didn't want to admit was actually pretty comfortable). She closed her eyes, the weight of her lids leaving her relieved that they no longer remained open, or focused.
A deep breath filled her lungs as she tried to ignore the stale, musty scent of the unkempt room. For a moment everything was still, the world began to fall away from her consciousness… until she felt her new bedmate stir beside her.
This was odd for Raven, as she didn't share her bed often. But what really threw her was the fact that in that moment, Dick shifted and wrapped his arm around her.
Raven's eyes shot open, the relaxed look her face once held only moments ago, gone, and her body growing tense.
"Oh, somebody has a death wish," she said wide eyed, feeling her ex-leader's body lean against hers.
She lay there a moment unsure of what to do, or if she should really do anything? It's not like she'd never shared a bed with him (or any of her friends for that matter) but the amount of physical contact was minimal. This however, was more than minimal for her, this felt intimate.
Raven turned her head and peered back at him, hardly able to make out his features in the dark. She could tell he was out cold, that he was not even aware of the predicament she was in. Raven bit her lip in conflict. Dick hadn't slept that soundly in weeks, she didn't want to ruin that for him.
"You're lucky you're not Beast Boy, Grayson," Raven drawled with an eye roll, "Uh like you can even hear me. Why am I even talking to you?"
She took another breath and sighed, trying to find the peace to close her eyes and find sleep again. She could feel his breath lightly passing, by her hair, the rhythm of his chest rise and falling against her back. She wasn't used to this, and part of her wasn't sure if she should pull away, but another part felt at home with it.
There was certainly a loneliness to sleeping alone, to reach out and feel how cold one's bed could be without another. But at the same time, there was a fine line, and the fact Raven was allowing herself to even think like that was something she quarreled with. But for now, it couldn't hurt much, and if nothing else, it was only for one night.
8888
The sleek car pulled into the bay, its black exterior not even scuffed from the night's activities. It came to a stop and the engine was put to swift rest. A tall figure exited the car, wearing the crown of his mantle high. He closed the door and stepped toward a large computer, pulling the cowl from his face, a colorful accent resonating from behind him.
"Aw Master Bruce, this arrived for you today." Alfred handed him a piece of paper, a formal document. "Your request to speak at Mr. Zucco's parole hearing has been granted."
Bruce inspected the document, Alfred's words in fact true.
"You seem a bit troubled, sir?" Alfred said noticing a weary look linger on his master's face.
"It's nothing, Alfred," Bruce insisted and placed the letter down. "Just let them know that I accept."
"I will sir," the butler replied and took the document once more.
He noticed the Dark Knight's demeanor was shrill and more closed off than usual. He glanced upon the letter again and a thought came to mind.
"You know sir, lying to him won't fix anything. It has already been nearly two decades, it has not changed anything."
Bruce turned to him with a dark look, his brow heavy as it shadowed his eyes with a darkness only a father could have.
"As far as Dick knows Zucco is dead, and as long as he's dead to Richard, that's all I care about."
He turned away again, years of guilt still heavy on his broadened shoulders. It was nothing he was proud of, but if it gave a young boy comfort all those years ago, he'd do it all again. Lord knew comfort was something Bruce never got, he didn't want that for Dick. He just wanted him to have what he couldn't.
"I know why you feel that way, Master Bruce, but if he ever found out, I don't know if he could ever forgive you."
Bruce leaned on the wide board before him, his head no longer high in the face of his own human nature. Alfred was right, Dick would probably never speak to him again, if he found out. But he wouldn't, not it f Bruce had anything to say about it.
"Thank You for the concern, Alfred. I know you mean well," Bruce finally said stoically. "But you also know me well enough to know that I've made up my mind. So please, mail the letter, and never breathe a word of this to Dick. Understand?"
Bruce peered over at Alfred to see him nod, though disapproval was written in every line on his face. The brit gave him an unenthusiastic sigh and walked off thinking quietly to himself, Lord help me if the boy finds out! The man scoffed and exited the cave, the light of the den much warmer than the dim chill from below. He looked upon the paper once more, the name Anthony Joseph Zucco staring him in the face. A name that once soiled the face of every newspaper. The name of a liar, a thief, and above all—a murderer.
"I wish you really were dead," Alfred spat forgetting himself. "How someone as vile as you is permitted to draw breath upon the earth while others lay beneath the soil to rot is just beyond me."
He threw the letter down upon the table and reached for a decanter of brandy. Alfred really wasn't one to indulge, but given the hour and the present situation, he thought an ounce or two of brandy wouldn't hurt. He took a seat in the large leather arm chair, sipping the dark liquor, its rich scent lifting from the glass as he drank. The manor was quiet, it always was. So quiet it was hunting, something the man often mourned over while caring for it. He knew every inch of that place, every board, every bolt.
He took another sip, trying to dull the ache, he missed those long past days when the manor was warmer. When it held the actual purpose of being a home. His eyes drifted up over the fireplace, that grand portrait looking down on him, one Thomas Wayne standing proudly over his beautiful family. Now that was a man who had a lot to be proud of, he was also a man with a lot to lose. It pained Alfred to think of what he'd say to him now—to his beloved son. The one who'd become only a perversion of the man he hoped he would become.
Alfred always wanted Bruce to grow to be like his father, and in a way he had, only more damaged. Even after so many years, those wounds had never healed. He glanced at the paper again, and noticed another name, Richard Jonathan Grayson. There were parts of that boy that were some much his mentor, and there were parts that must have simply come from his father, maybe even both.
"God only knows which one you take after," Alfred said taking one last sip. "I only hope you acquired the Master's better points."
He winced and placed the glass on the table, taking one last look at the portrait, that look of pride like a ghost. "If only you were here now, who would he be," Alfred asked himself, "who might we all be?
A/N: I hope this little Alfred snippet reads fine, I wrote it last night and did not have my Beta go over it cause I wanted to update the chapter. Also I apologize for the of the offensive humor, lol but I also hope you enjoyed it cause it will not be last of it XD. I hope you all enjoyed the update, I'm already hard at work on the edit for the next update and hope to have it up soon! Please remember to review, Love you guys!