A/N: Hey guys! I finally got the update done! I just wanted to say thank you for the feedback, it means a lot and I mean that! Especially to my guest readers, you guys are awesome and I wish you all had accounts so I could answer your questions and talk to you! Lol However, if any one of you (that includes all of you) wanna contact me, feel free to follow me on Instagram opheliawillowbrook. Also to those of you just tuning in, I recently posted the Alternative Ending to Chapter 21: Yorick so if you're an X/Rae fan or are interested go check it out under Red Right Cuts which will be a bumping ground for the parts of this story that would never see the light of day otherwise. As for the chapter, I hope you all enjoy it. I got a lot the inspiration for this one from the "Dead Are Dumb" by Nothing. So uh, have fun and let me know what you think.
As always, with love -Ophelia
All Our Words Are Wasted
"Too heavy for the lightness
But weightless in the rain
All our words are wasted"
-Nothing
Raven sat on the splintering oak floor, waiting beside herself, her back against the wall and tears slowly rolling down her sallow face. She was tired, her body and mind fragile, but yet she held herself together—somehow. Before her, lay the lifeless and somehow breathing body of her nearly lifelong friend, his presence faint, but there.
Raven wasn't sure how, but she'd somehow managed to find the strength to pull him from the floor and slumped the unconscious man into bed. Or more importantly, the cheap mattress that rose only a foot off the ground. She'd covered him with meager blankets, their thin threads torn and frayed at the ends. They smelled of cigarette ash and sweat, from what she assumed were long nights of possible withdrawal. She stared down at her hands, her fingers gentle as she turned her palms up. They felt so filthy.
Startled, she heard a knock. Raven's eyes stirred from their gaze as she placed her fingertips to her cheeks and wiped the tears away.
"Oh thank God," she mumbled, pulling herself off the dusty floor and rushed to the door. She didn't even think twice when she turned the knob and swung it open, struck with surprise. "Donna?"
"Raven?" the young woman asked standing in the doorway perplexed.
"What are you—"
"Me! What are you doing here?" Donna interrupted.
Raven's mouth remained ajar, but nothing came out as she struggled for the right words.
"Are you okay?" Donna finally inquired, then her eyes went wide. "Where's Roy?"
"Um…" the sorceress began, but fumbled.
"Raven?"
The empath gave up, only sparing a regretful and sorrowful look. Donna's face plummeted, coaxing her to silently push passed Raven and into the apartment. The empath followed, still grasping for the words she couldn't quite give breath to.
Donna stormed into his bedroom, not even noticing the disheveled state of the apartment and found her first love nearly breathless and unmoving. Tears immediately filled her eyes, her soft hand cupping her mouth as gasped mournfully.
"Roy," she whimpered, her body still and in shock. She turned to Raven who'd waited just behind her in the doorway, tears now spilling like open veins. "Is he…" she couldn't finish the question, she just couldn't say it out loud.
Luckily for her, Raven shook her head. "No, not yet," she replied a solemn tear rolling down her cheek.
"We need to get him to a hospital—now!" the Amazon demanded and proceeded to step forward. She stopped, however, when a small hand reached out, wrapping itself around her forearm.
"He doesn't wanna go," Raven said pitifully, knowing the request was hard to understand, but defended it anyway.
"I don't care what he wants—he'll die!" she exclaimed, ripping her arm from the gentle hand that held it.
Raven's eyes fell closed, her face rueful, but still somehow determined. "He doesn't want the League to know, he'd much rather—"
"Don't you dare even finish that sentence?"
Just then Dick rushed into the apartment and paused at the sight of Donna crying from the doorway. "Donna what are you—"
"It doesn't matter what I'm doing here! Just help him!" she spat in a near panic.
"Whoa," Jason said calmly, entering the room, "everyone needs to calm down."
"What is he doing here?" Donna demanded out of nowhere.
The Outlaw grimaced with insult. "I'm here because, I too, care about Roy. Now what the hell happened," Jason asked looking over at Raven.
"I came to check on him; after yesterday he seemed really unstable. I was worried. When I got here he was laying on the floor unconscious: I healed him to the best of my ability, he's still in there, I just don't know if… if it's enough…"
"He needs help," Donna added, her emotions bleeding from her like life from a fresh wound.
Raven could feel this grief as it cut into her, making it nearly too difficult to breathe. "He doesn't want help," she finally said regretfully, the words themselves distasteful.
"Why," Donna snapped, "because he thinks the League will punish him? They're not heartless— they care about him!"
"Yeah, but they also care about public perception," Jason added, "and Roy hasn't exactly done anything as of late to boost approval ratings."
"Like you would have a compassionate opinion of the League, Jason."
"Don't talk to me like a child, Donna."
"You two are really gonna do this now!" Dick added with a scowl. "We're not kids anymore, stop bickering?"
"Shut Up!" Raven finally yelled, catching everyone off guard. "He's afraid of what they'll think— he's terrified of what Oliver will think. How do none of you get that?" Raven looked tearfully as all eyes fell from her to the floor, each one knowing how it felt to fail their mentor. "He matters—what he wants: matters. And he doesn't want to disappoint anyone any more than he already has... He can't handle them knowing."
More tears fell from Donna's eyes, her face growing red. "If he matters, how are we supposed to help him—how do you even know that?"
"I can hear him."
"How?!"
"That's a really stupid question, Donna," Jason said arms crossed.
"Okay," Dick said stepping between the two, "I understand the plight of everyone here, including Roy, but we can only do so much for him. I'm sorry, Rae, but I'm not just gonna let him die, even if he wants me to, I can't live with that."
"So what? We bring him to a hospital—no questions asked," Jason said, "cause that's not gonna happen."
"Do you have a better idea," Donna snapped, Dick glaring back at her to stop.
"I'm not saying we let him die, I'm just saying that we find another way," the Outlaw lamented.
Dick thought about it, his hand running over his mouth at a loss. "We can try Dr. Thompkins, I don't know if she can help, or if she'd be willing?"
"It's worth a shot," Jason added.
"Is Roy good with that?" Dick finally asked Raven.
"Yeah, but he's worried she'll tell Bruce."
"That's a chance we're just gonna have to take."
She waited around the back of the Iceberg Lounge, not far from the steel yard. Her eyes were covered by dark glasses, skewing her appearance. She didn't want to seem out of place, or even be recognized in this part of town, especially if one of the Joker's men saw her. She noticed a black Volkswagen Phaeton approach from a distance, its clean lines and sophisticated frame shining like a beacon of hope. It pulled up beside her and stopped, a tall hulkish driver stepping out of the vehicle and greeting her. She gave him an apprehensive smile as he opened the car door for her. The girl paused, taking a deep breath before entering the sleek vehicle. She finally climbed in, taking a seat on the plush leather, her skin immediately affronted by the chill of air conditioning.
"Mr. Cobblepot," she greeted in a dull tone once the door was closed.
"Ms. Tjalla," he replied down his narrow nose, noticing the goose bumps rise from her legs. "I hope this wasn't too far out of your way, my dear?"
"It's fine, you have the money, right?" she replied emotionlessly.
"Right down to business are we?" the short man mused, his sickly complexion taking on a bit of color. "I've found that to be an appealing quality in a woman," he let out a chuckle, repulsing the girl. "We may have a problem with payment, the hit didn't go according to plan."
"That's not my problem," she asserted. "I told you about the run, I told you where'd they'd be, it's not my problem the people you hired fucked up."
"That's true," the pudgy man agreed, his portly hand plucking a single sardine from a can and slurping it down. "But how do I know you didn't tip anyone off?" he added and offered her one.
She grimaced, waving the can away in disgust. "I didn't, I'd be dead if I did."
He pulled the can back, a peculiar look framing his hooked nose. "Well, I only ask as I have been pulling the strings on this little turf war for some time now. And as you can see, Joker and the Hood haven't exactly killed each other yet."
"Again, not my problem. I told you everything I know, right down to the intimate details. I even told you about that security detail. So just pay me so I can go."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Cobblepot replied.
"Cut the shit, Cobblepot. I did my job, now pay me."
"Trilby, are you familiar with Joan of Arc?" The Birdman asked.
The car came to a stop, Trilby frantically trying to open the door. "Unlock the door," she demanded, trying to remain calm.
"You didn't answer my question."
"Because it's stupid. Now, UNLOCK, the FUCKING, door."
The stout man scowled, tapping his cane in his hand a moment. He looked back at her darkly, his eyes holding a predatory gaze, when Out of nowhere, he pounced across the seat, holding the implement across her throat threateningly. "Answer the question," he growled, the girl now terrified.
She nodded, whimpering as the bar pressed against her flesh.
"Then you are familiar with the idea of martyrdom," Cobblepot questioned, the girl beginning to writhe with panic. "Shhhh," the sickly man patronizingly soothed, his thick hand grazing her fearful face, "it will all be fine, you may have outlived your usefulness to me, but there is one last thing you can do for my cause," he cooed.
She swatted his hand from her face as he looked down at her hungrily. He frowned, and sat up taking the cane off her throat, not even looking at the girl as she slowly got up.
"I'm sorry we had to part ways like this, my dear, but seems plans have changed."
She looked back at him strangely as she caught her breath, not entirely understanding his words.
Just then, the door swung open behind her and a long thin hand covered her mouth, muffling her scream. She kicked and thrashed as the depraved form pulled her from the car, laughing menacingly at her opposition.
"Well this one's awfully scrappy!" the Clown Prince shrieked with a hiss. "Here, hold this for me, Harley."
"Sure, Mista J."
The Joker passed the horrified girl off as if she were nothing but an object. He leaned over her, grinning widely. "Now play nice for daddy." He gave the girl a cruel pat on the head, tears rolling down her face. "I'm gonna take good care of you."
The girl attempted to scream, but the sinister man literally beat her to the punch, hitting her so hard that she nearly fell out of Harley's arms. He turned, standing at the entrance of the car door, his wicked smile beaming as he looked in at the bird-like man.
"How goes it, Cobby?" he sang gleefully. "By the way, it took long enough, you're far too consumed with the theatrics."
"You're one to talk, Joker," Cobblepot replied unamused. "You know what to do, right?"
"Do I?" the clown asked with a great chuckle, "I practically invented what to do. But I must say, I'm a little disappointed. This one isn't as pretty as the Red Hood's white rose."
"Well then you'll just have to make her be enough," the pudgy man replied, "I can't have this one breathing a word of her meetings with me. As for Slade's darling daughter, that's between you, him and the Hood. I want no part of it."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to stir the pot?" the Joker laughed with a sly grin. "Any specific requests before I cut this one ear to ear?"
The girl began to whimper and fight with Harley, the clown trying to soothe her in a deranged manner. "Shhh honey, it's ok, Mista J has the darndest way of making a girl smile…"
"Take care of that racket will you, Harley, Daddy's talking."
"Gladly Puddin!" She promptly gripped the girl by the hair and slammed her head with great force into the parked VW, the force of the impact making the whole vehicle shake.
"Butch just had this detailed!" Cobblepot protested. "Do have any idea how much it cost to have this paint touched up?"
"Relax Cobby, it's all in good fun," Joker said unusually calm. The girl by now had fallen to the ground, her forehead gashed and bleeding on the pavement. "Harley, take our new playmate to the car, make sure she's buckled up nice and tight, we wouldn't want her hurting herself."
"Got it, Puddin," Harley smiled, scraping the wounded girl from the ground, not being overly careful.
Joker watched as she open the trunk of the beat-up Cadi and threw the girl in, making sure to tape her up.
"She's a good kid, isn't she Cobby?" he asked almost—prideful.
Cobblepot glanced up at the Joker questionably. "I suppose?"
Joker, still grinning, leaned in, his eyes wild and dark. "By the way, if you ever yell at my girl again, Daddy's gonna have to cut your fucking throat out."
The bird man said nothing, knowing the man would make good on his promise at any given moment. His driver, Butch, readied himself to act if need be, but waited as the two peculiar men remained in a standoff.
"Hahaha," the Joker finally laughed, both Cobblepot and Butch looking at each other in confusion. "Oh Cobby, you should have seen your face!" he chuckled, "priceless—simply priceless!"
The two men began to laugh along with him a little nervously, the tension now slowly relieving itself.
"But seriously," Joker said delightfully, "I'll kill you. Have a good day gentlemen, tooddles!" He sang and slammed the door without a care.
Butch quickly locked the doors and threw the car in drive, Cobblepot watching as they drove by, the Joker looking down in the trunk with a taunting look. It was a look he'd seen many times before as it was haunting and telling, like death were actually present.
"Having second thoughts, Boss?"
Cobblepot took his glance from the window and cast it upon his hulkish bodyguard. "It's far too late for second thoughts, Butch. You either live with the decisions you make, or not at all."
Dick and Jason pulled up to Gotham General where Dr. Leslie Thompkins was not only the head of the hospital's Rehabilitation & Drug Center, but also sat on the Board of Directors. It had been years since either man had seen the good doctor, who'd voiced her opinions about their mentor's nightly activities more than a time or two. But, despite her disapproval, she kept the Bat's secret, as she felt personally responsible for his decision to dawn the mantle in the first place.
They parked the old Wrangler and Jason silenced the engine, the AMC Straight Six letting out one last growl before settling into a still calm.
"I still think we should go with my plan."
Dick looked over at Jason and shook his head disapprovingly. "We're not kidnapping her, Jason—what is wrong with you?"
"That's a loaded question. You're better off asking: what's not wrong with me?"
Dick rolled his eyes and looked forward. "Let's just do this one by the book, she works with criminals and drug addicts for a living, I can't exactly see her turning us away."
"And if she does?"
"Then will do it your way," Dick patronized with no real intention of letting it happen.
"Okay then, let's try this your way," the Outlaw droned as though it were an inconvenience.
"Oh and Jay, have some class, leave the gun."
Jason looked down, his 9mm hanging from his holster. "I already hate this plan." He pulled the gun free and lividly placed it in the glove box, like a child being told to remove their gum.
"The knife too."
"Dude, you're pushing it—"
"You're gonna get us fucking arrested. Now can you please pretend to be a normal, well-adjusted human for 5 minutes?"
"Only if you stop pretending I'm not gonna punch you in the face?"
"Seriously, I'd wipe the pavement with you, now just pretend for 10 minutes that you're not the Red Hood and be Jason Todd."
"What's the difference?"
"Fucking Christ, Jay." Dick lamented, his palm meeting his forehead.
Meanwhile, as this was taking place outside, a heavy set woman sat at the front desk, manning the phones and checking people into their appointments. Her shift was almost over, after starting at 6 AM.
From her desk, she noticed two young men approaching the entrance and her face quickly showed apprehension. They entered the office, their mannerism differing from each other. One seemed a little overly nice and the other dismissive and disingenuous.
"How can I help you two boys?" she said, straightening her back as she looked up at them.
Dick smiled as Jason leaned on the desk nonchalantly and void of expression.
"Yes, um, I'm an old friend of Dr. Thompkins and I was hoping I could speak with her?" Dick smiled, trying to come off as polite.
"Well, if you haven't noticed, this isn't exactly Facebook, so unless you have an appointment, you're gonna have to be more specific,"
"Isn't so easy now, is it, Dickie?" Jason drawled, Dick scowling at him.
Jason motion for him to let him take the lead, Dick a little apprehensive, but capitulated anyway. The Outlaw turned to her, her lack of amusement thick, but he made his pitch anyway:
"Yeah, Loretta," Jason said looking at her name tag, the stoic woman not answering, "do you have any idea who this guy is?"
Dick looked over at him, not really sure where this was going.
"I don't really care if your friend's Jesus Christ; no appointment, no doctor."
"Yeah that's perfectly understandable," Jason continued, "but you might feel a little differently if you turn away the son of this hospital's most generous benefactor."
"Not that I care, but who might this benefactor be?"
"Bruce Wayne."
Her face went blank, clearly perplexed. "I thought that kid died?"
"No, that was the other one," Jason corrected uncomfortably.
"No, I'm pretty sure he had one kid and he died in Bosnia or something like that?"
"Nope that was definitely the other one, I would know cause I'm not dead," Dick corrected.
"And it was Ethiopia by the way," Jason added, forcing a smile through his annoyance.
"Listen," the hero continued, "I just need a minute to talk to her, and it's really important. So can you at least ask her if she'll see me, please?"
The woman looked at the two, a quizzical expression fixed on her dark aging face. "Kid, you are lucky I'm in a good mood." She lifted the receiver and placed it to her ear.
"This is a good mood?" Jason questioned, plucking a lollipop from the basket on the counter.
"Don't sass me, boy," she warned, dialing the proper extension.
Jason smiled charmingly and placed the pop in his mouth, the woman smiling back at him smugly. Like she'd slap the smirk right off his adorable face.
"Yeah, Dr. Thompkins, I have two annoying young men here, one claims to know you, says he's Bruce Wayne's son…" She paused, tapping her pen on a thick stack of paper. "No, I didn't catch his name, hold on?" She lowered the receiver passed her round jawline and glanced up at Dick. "What's your name, son?"
"Richard Grayson."
"Dick for short," Jason added vindictively.
"I thought you said your dad was Bruce Wayne?"
"I'm adopted."
She nodded passively and recited his name over the phone then waited as she was instructed further. She rolled her eyes and placed the phone back on the hook.
"She'll be right out," the woman drawled in a vexed tone.
Within a few moments the good doctor appeared around the corner, pausing at the sight of the two, now grown men. It pained her to think that the last time she'd seen either of them was at the hand of a great tragedy. One of them literally on the brink of death, while the other had been put to rest in a rich casket undeserved for someone so young.
"Hi Leslie!" Jason sang waving his hand, not even caring about her proper title (not that he ever had).
She smiled, catching a glimpse of that small, facetious boy who was far more mild than he'd ever let on. Dick smiled at her as well, though his was less confident and more conflicted, reminding her of Bruce. That grave nobility writing itself on his brow and continuing its tale throughout every line on his face.
"I haven't seen either of you in an age," she finally said, "What can I do for you boys?"
Dick tried to reply, but stumbled, not really knowing where to begin. He hadn't even spoken to this woman in over a decade and now, he had the nerve to ask her to drop everything and help him, and why should she?
"We kind of have a little emergency we need your help with," Jason finally said noticing Dick's confliction, whereas Jason was hardly taxed. Hell, if everything went south, he'd just pull her out of the hospital at gunpoint to make it more convenient for her.
"Is Bruce—"
"He's fine," Dick said, cutting her off, "but it's kind of privet, could we talk—"
"In my office," she said finishing the sentence, "right this way."
Dick began to follow her and noticed Jason was still standing at the counter. "Aren't you coming?"
Jason shrugged, "Nah, I'm gonna stay here and keep Loretta company. Plus I'm gonna go smoke myself into an early grave."
Leslie rolled her eyes in disgust for more reasons than one. Jason and Loretta watched as the doctor and Dick disappeared, Loretta still wearing her annoyance finely.
"I don't get paid enough for this bullshit," she lamented shaking her head.
"Well don't complain to me, go ask that stingy bitch for a raise," he replied removing his phone and cigarettes.
"You can't smoke on hospital property," Loretta added, a little vengeance in her smirk.
Jason looked down at her and smiled crassly. "Well that's some moral high ground. Meanwhile someone gets bit by a deer tick and is given not even $2 worth of antibiotics and you charge them $300 for an emergency visit, but yeah, I'm the asshole."
"I don't make the rules, kid."
"Nope, you just live by 'em," Jason said over his shoulder and motioned for the front door, pulling up Enigma's number. Once out of the lobby he pressed send and placed the phone to his ear.
"Yeah hey, can you pull up a map of Gotham General and tell me where the morgue is?"
Dick sat down across from Dr. Thompkins, her face had aged over the years, her dark hair now grown completely white, but she still spoke as sharp as ever.
"Can I get you anything, Richard: coffee, water—"
Dick raised his hand and shook his head. "No, but thank you."
She noticed his smile again, troubled and heavy, taking note of his ability to even do such a thing where his mentor could not.
"So you said you needed to speak with me about something?"
Dick nodded. "Yeah um, a friend of mine overdosed earlier today; he's refusing to go to the hospital. He doesn't want anyone to find out."
"This friend of yours, he wouldn't happen to be another vigilante, would he?"
"That's part of it, yeah. He doesn't want the League involved, and frankly, I'm in over my head..."
"Has it ever occurred to you that your friend is an addict, typically what he wants is not the right thing."
"I am well aware of that," Dick conceded, "but I'm also well aware of how it feels to stand against the League," he paused a moment, letting out an ironic sigh, "or better yet, have the League stand against you. It's not a good a place to be, Dr. Thompkins, and I don't think Roy is strong enough to stand against it right now."
Her mouth grew tight, the fine lines of her lips forming from years of making that same expression. She laced her fingers together and placed them atop her desk. "What do you need from me?"
"I just need you to help him, or at least try. I know there's a good chance he might not make it—I don't even know if he has a chance, but I need to know I at least tried to help him."
"I assume Bruce doesn't know."
Dick nodded in confirmation. "He doesn't even know I'm in Gotham."
She let out a deep breath and looked at the boy. "Are you even planning on telling him?"
"No."
She began looking at her desk and wrote something down on a piece of paper. "This is a list of what I'll need, but there are a few items I cannot get from this hospital without raising suspicion." She handed Dick the note and continued. "I will do this because ethically, I cannot just let your friend die. But you," she added, "you cannot keep hiding from Bruce, you need to tell him you're here, that's the deal."
Dick took the note and looked up at her dully. "Do I have to tell him today?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Then it's a deal."
Soon after Dick exited the hospital, only to find Jason carelessly smoking a cigarette, a shit eating grin on his face.
"I thought you weren't allowed to smoke on hospital property?"
"It's a stupid rule, half the people here already have cancer, and 90% of Leslie's patient's will be lucky if they live long enough to even get cancer."
"Have you ever been punched in the face over something you've said?" Dick asked with earnest annoyance.
"Many times: Yes. Has it ever stopped me: No."
Dick rolled his eyes, not even shocked by the declaration. "You look guilty of something."
"We're all guilty of something, speaking of, where's Leslie?"
"She's gonna meet us there," the hero replied. "I have to call X though and see if he can get a few things."
"Dude, that kid could smuggle an alien fetus out of Area 51, then hit up Guantanamo Bay and bring back the warden's coffee mug and a t-shirt."
"That would actually impress me," Dick replied, dialing the thief's number, "but in the meantime, I just need whatever is on this list."
The phone rang a moment as Dick waited impatiently, then he heard the crass voice at the other end. "This better be good, Chuckles, I'm in the middle of a Buffy marathon."
"That's like the weirdest thing you could say when answering the phone."
"If you think that's weird phone etiquette then you have led a very sheltered life."
"Listen X, I hate to ruin your Buffy fanfare, but I need a huge favor."
"Somebody better be dead."
"If you don't help, someone will be dead," Dick replied in a grave tone.
X grimaced, feeling foolish about his earlier comments. "Shit, what happened?"
"Roy overdosed, it doesn't look good, I got a doctor to treat him on the down low, but she needs some things, can you get them?"
"Is Queen Elizabeth actually German?" X heard a long pause on the other end, his wit unacknowledged. "Send me the list."
"Already did."
"I know a guy who deals in big pharma; I'm gonna cash in a few favors. I can probably get everything to you in an hour."
"Thank you," Dick sighed, somewhat relieved.
"Yeah, I'm a saint." X hung up the phone and stood up from his bar stool, Jinx taking note of his now chilled demeanor.
"Everything okay?"
"I gotta go do an errand," X replied, taking a sip of his beer. "How well does Wally know Roy?"
Her pink eyes looked back at him with inquisition. "Since they were kids, why?"
X took another swig and placed the bottle down regretfully. "Apparently Roy's bad habit caught up to him. Dick said it doesn't look good. I don't know if you wanna tell Wally, but… I gotta go."
He passed by her without a second thought, and before she could reply the thief was gone. She stood there a moment, wallowing in the reality a moment.
She looked up at Clancy and called to Duela and Eddie, "Hold down the fort, I have something I gotta do."
Both Raven and Donna had been hard at work frantically cleaning the unkempt apartment, filling bags of unattended trash and bleaching filthy surfaces. Every now and then one of the women would check on their wilting friend. Each time wondering if this was the moment he'd be gone, but somehow, they found him still there.
Raven tried a few more times to heal him, but made little strides in aiding him back into consciousness. However, through the fog of the ether, she knew he was still in there and held on to as much hope as she possibly could.
While they waited, the two said little to each other, finding an odd comfort in silence. Donna and Raven were never really that close, mostly because Raven had made it so. Much like Kory, Donna and the empath were very different and had little in common. Raven also felt little comradery with the Amazon as she got along better with her male counterparts and found her female ones to be a little too much work. She could easily talk to Dick or Victor, and approach Wally and Roy with more ease than she could the alien or Amazon. So, to Raven, the lack of conversation was preferred, until Donna opened her mouth.
"So what are you and Dick even doing here?"
Raven rolled her eyes and placed down a bag of empty cereal boxes and cans. "I could ask you the same question. Don't you have a husband and child to tend to?"
"I'm a free woman, Raven. I can do what I want," Donna scowled.
"And so can we." Raven looked back at her coldly as the Amazon held a laundry basket filled with dirty clothes that hadn't been washed in months.
"Did Dick tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
Donna paused, unsure whether the empath was being facetious or not. She could never really tell.
Raven looked over at her again, her face a little lost in the smog. It wasn't often Donna looked like that, but when she did, she seemed a little more—human.
"He didn't tell me anything about you," she finally said, Donna looking away. "But I'm going to assume it's something I'm not supposed to know?"
"You wouldn't understand."
Raven cracked a crude smirk. "Why, because I'm a bitch?"
"I wouldn't have worded it like that."
Raven laughed at the remark, thinking how arbitrary it was. Finding it funny that Donna actually believed she was above calling her that. "Y'know, just because you don't say it doesn't mean you don't think it," she smiled crassly. "And to be perfectly honest, I don't care if you think I'm a bitch. I know I'm a bitch and, more importantly, I'm okay with being a bitch."
"You act like that word is a compliment," Donna replied hastily. "You've always worn it like a badge of honor."
"To me it is," Raven shrugged. "When people call me a bitch or a cunt it means I'm usually standing up for myself or someone I care about. I stand up for what I believe in because I'm not afraid to be called those words. That's the difference between you and I."
She turned from Donna and went back to cleaning, the Amazon left speechless a moment, but finally spoke. "…I left Terry."
"I know," Raven drawled, "and it's about time; I hate that prick."
"You said Dick didn't—"
"He didn't," Raven corrected, "I'm an empath, remember? God, you people still have no idea how my powers actually work, do you?"
"Well no offence," Donna defended, "but they're kinda vast and kinda creepy."
"No shit. You really think I like knowing the intimate details of my friends' lives? You know how many awkward conversations I have to avoid on a daily basis? It's a wonder I'm even still sane, though that's questionable. Sorry, I'm ranting."
Donna looked at her a little taken back. This was the first real conversation the two had ever really had. And to be perfectly honest, she never really tried to understand Raven, she always just let her be.
"So I take it the honeymoon's over," Raven finally asked, trying to overt the conversation in a less personal direction. "Is that why you're reliving the past, or is it just a distraction while you file the paperwork?"
"See this is why people think you're a bitch," the Amazon scowled, slamming the basket on the coffee table.
"Oh my wounded dignity," Raven droned unfazed, "but what I meant was, is Roy the reason for your decision to kick your husband to the Geriatrics Unit, or am I missing something?"
"You're the empath, why don't you tell me?"
Raven smirked at her and crossed her arms. "Are you sure you want me to do that?"
Donna looked at her consequently. "Not really." She sighed and fell to the couch with a plop and cupped her chin. "Honestly, I don't know why I'm here." She began. "Don't get me wrong, I've been done with Terry for probably a year now. That part of my life, it's over, but… I don't know... I guess I thought I was done with this part of my life too, but here I am—I came back and… I don't really know why."
Raven's face softened as much as it could and approached Donna, her eyes growing glassy as a shockingly gentle hand came down upon her tense shoulder.
"Because maybe you were never really done with this part of your life? Maybe whatever you left here is what made your life worth living? I don't really know, it's really not my place to say, but maybe walking away wasn't the right choice for you then?"
"Is it the right choice for you?"
Raven shrugged. "Hell if I know, I tend to be better at helping other people through their shit than sift through mine."
"I think that's true of everyone," Donna laughed as Raven unexpectedly joined in.
It was then the door opened and Dick and Jason emerged with a white haired doctor who apprehensively entered the apartment. Raven stood and turned her body to the group, placing her humor on a high shelf for the time.
"Hey, how is he?" Dick asked, taking note of the women's close proximity to one another.
"Still alive," Raven replied. "I tried treating him a little, but I'm not sure if it helped."
"Oh is she a doctor?" Dr. Thompkins asked.
"Um… no" Raven replied awkwardly, "I just have uh—a lot of first aid training…"
"It's kind of a gift really," Donna added sarcastically.
"Way to make it awkward, Dee," Raven said through grit teeth and a false smile, Donna shrugging uncharacteristically.
Jason grimaced at the uncomfortable sight and whisper to Dick, "I don't know what happened while we were gone, but I don't like it."
Dick took a deep breath and raised a brow in slight agreement, but said nothing with a faint nod.
"What is everyone staring at?" A voice said over Dick's shoulder.
Both Dick and Jason turned their heads to find X peering in as he'd gone undetected for an unknown period of time.
"How long have you been standing there?" the ex-Titan finally asked.
"Does it matter?"
Dick just glared at the blonde man disapprovingly, Jason still observing.
"This is getting awkward," the Outlaw mused, "did you at least get the shit?"
"Like I've ever not delivered," X replied and held up a bag. "It's all here and some extra stuff cause I'm good like that."
"Thank god," Dick replied taking the bag and handing it to Dr. Thompkins.
She took it and looked around the assorted group she found herself surrounded by. "And here I thought Bruce had an odd circle of friends."
X smiled and wittily shrugged. "This is nothing, you should see our initiation parties."
"We don't talk about those," Jason scolded in a hushed voice.
"This is all well and good, but I came here to help a young man and I would greatly like to do that?"
Dick nodded. "Yes, please, he's in here."
The doctor followed the young hero through the living room and into the bedroom, she too oppressed by the sight of the nearly lifeless archer. She let out a sigh and walked over to the side of the mattress and placed her bag down. She looked up at Dick, flanked by Raven, Jason and X. Donna standing just out of sight, too afraid of what the doctor might say.
Dr. Thompkins pulled out a stethoscope, placing the buds in her ears and pressing the tunable to his chest. She held it there and checked her watch a few times, then examined his eyes.
She pulled the stethoscope down to her neck and let out a deep sigh. "I'm honestly shocked he's still alive. His heart rate is actually quite strong for his condition."
"Does that mean he's gonna make it?" Donna questioned, pushing through the doorway.
The doctor let out another weary breath. "He might, but he's not out of the woods yet and only time will tell if there is any permanent organ and cognitive damage."
Everyone was silent for a moment, all eyes drifting to avoid contact with another, the thought even leaving Jason speechless.
"Just do what you can," Dick finally said feeling the shift among his friends.
"I will, but I'm gonna need the room," the doctor said stoically. "I'm also gonna need some help," she added looking over at Raven. "What did you say your name was, young lady?"
"Raven…"
"Well Raven, would you mind?"
"…Yeah," Raven nodded, a little off set.
It was then Dr. Thompkins instructed everyone, but Raven to leave, including Dick. Raven relinquished a heavy sigh, her arms still crossed and a nervous look on her face.
"You gonna be okay," Dick asked before leaving the room.
She nodded, but said nothing as she looked at Roy despairingly, the doctor prepping for treatment.
"You got this, Rae."
"What if I don't?" She looked back at him with dejection, her normal façade removed for the moment. She couldn't bullshit her way through this one.
"I've seen you work miracles, Rae. Hell—I am one of your miracles. If anyone can help the doctor save him, it's you." Dick pulled her into a hug, one she accepted without a second thought. A few tears slipping from her eyes as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I'll be right outside if you need me," he said and kissed her forehead, "either of you."
Dr. Thompkins smiled and nodded. "Are you sure you can do this, Raven?"
Raven wiped the tears from her cheek and inhaled. "Yeah—sorry." She sighed, pulling her long hair into a ponytail.
The good doctor nodded and looked over at Dick still wading in the doorway, like a parent reluctant to leave the side of their dying child. "We'll do what we can, Richard, but I need you to leave me to it. Your friends need you more."
Raven looked up at him as she pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. She didn't want him to go, but knew that he had to. He nodded and took the doorknob in his hand, taking one last look before pulling it closed, a shred of uncertainty leaving with him.
He was greeted by three grim faces, all weary and cold as they stared back at him as though he had all the answers, but he was just as lost.
"Do you think he's gonna be okay?' Donna asked, desperate for a sliver of even the thinnest hope.
"We can only hope," Dick said, "I mean crazier things have happened to most of us in this room."
"Crazy things don't happen every day," Jason replied, Donna scowling at him.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"What'd y'think, Donna?"
"Can you two stop," Dick snapped, "I mean you two used to actually be friends, what the fuck happened?"
Donna crossed her arms and looked away from the Outlaw, Jason not even looking in her direction.
"Same as you. I stopped buying into the League's bullshit and she started treating me like a piece of shit."
"That is not what happened!" Donna insisted. "I tried to help you, you wouldn't have it!"
It was true, or at least Donna thought it was true. She did reach out to Jason the moment Bruce had brought the revelation to the League's attention. She remembered Diana telling her just before her wedding to Terry. The couple actually finding themselves in quite the heated argument over the incident as Donna had taken off for a few days, tracking the Outlaw down.
She'd finally found him, sitting in a local dive in Gotham and sipping whisky, alone. None of which was a surprise to her. She recalled the look on his face, it was distant as he stared down at his half empty glass. His eyes overshadowed by a lifetime of pain no man his age, or any, should ever have to wear.
He didn't seem too fazed by his loneliness, as though the thought of people passing were trivial and benign, but found solace in it anyway. That was when he noticed her, the sight of the Amazon leaving him at the mercy of a double take. He could never imagine the grace of Donna Troy stepping foot in such a loathsome establishment, part of him never wanting to see her there at all. But there she was.
She recalled thinking how much older he was, no longer the boy she'd been expecting, but a man. His face even donning the expression of a man many years his senior, one of war, loss, and sacrifice. She wanted to cry at the sight of him, despite mourning him many times over. And for a moment, she thought he might shed a tear too, but instead, his weathered face cracked a smile, and for a moment, he was once again that precocious boy she'd known once upon a time.
She'd been made aware years prior that Jason had quite the crush on her, and she'd done little to discourage it, even though she was about four years his senior. She found his enamoring of her flattering and charming, even going as far too openly call it, "cute." And in a way, it was. Donna was one of the few people who actually got to see the real Jason Todd and appreciated the privilege. And in the end, she was one of his only true friends.
Jason laughed at her current statement, and shook his head. "Yeah, from what I recall, I had something else."
Donna's eyes widened and a little fear and anger crept across her pretty face. "Uh—you're really gonna throw that back at me? I trusted you and you have the nerve to use one of my weaker moments against me! How dare you!"
"I'm not using anything against you, Donna. I'm pointing out that's not what happened. So don't pretend that you made this harrowing attempt to save my soul from the cinders of Hades or some shit like that!"
Dick furrowed his brow, his eyes darting from one to the other. "Seriously, what happened with you two?"
"I'd rather not say," Jason replied, then looked over at Donna and added, "it's not my place to air her dirty laundry."
Donna's face ignited, but before she could counter the Outlaw, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Donna alone with the two other men still wading in the confusion. Dick glanced over at her, unsure whether he should go after Jason or stay with Donna as she was once again on the verge of tears.
Suddenly X's confusion became an euphony, realization beaming on his boyish face. "Awwww, you're that Donna… Nice."
Dick shot his glance to X and recognized the sly, this is totally worth high-fiving over, expression and Grimaced. "…Ewwww…"
X of course laughed at the reaction, finding Dick's repulsion far too amusing.
"It's not that big of a deal," Donna sighed, trying to play off the lapse in judgment like it didn't matter, only it totally did.
"Then why am I fighting the urge to vomit?"
"Cause in hindsight, one of your best childhood friends fucked your little brother," X chimed in, still grinning.
"Not helping," Dick scolded.
"Wasn't trying to," X replied, playfully punching Dick's arm, but toned it down when he noticed the hero's expression fall thick with warning.
Donna sighed heavily. "You know, I would appreciate a little less judgment, especially because of the whole Barbara thing."
"What Barbara thing?—Who's Barbara?" X asked intrigued.
"If you don't shut the fuck up right now, I'm gonna shove my fist so far down your throat that I'm gonna pull out your esophagus and then make you choke on it," Dick growled, staring at X.
"Wow for a cape you're awfully violent, Chuckles," X replied, trying not to show any intimidation. "But anyway, I'm out, let me know what happens. I do honestly hope your friend's okay. It was lovely meeting you, Donna." He smiled and waved, bidding the Amazon goodbye and exited the apartment.
Dick looked back at Donna, trying to push his frustration away, the Amazon remaining in a standoffish posture.
"Listen Donna, I'm not trying to judge you, that's just a lot of information all at once… Information I would have rather not known…"
"No shit," she plopped herself on the couch again, "you think I really wanted you to know about that?" She rubbed the top of her thighs uncomfortably, like she wanted to crawl out of her skin with embarrassment. "It was a mistake, and I freaked out. I didn't want Terry to find out, or Roy, or anyone."
"Does anybody else know?"
She shook her head. "Just me you and…" she let go of a heavy sigh and ruffled her hair. "Terry thought I was with Roy those few days, he didn't believe me when I said I was out looking for Jason. I guess that's what I get for not telling him where I was or what I was doing. But in the end it doesn't matter, he was right, I cheated on him."
Dick grimaced at the thought, not because he felt bad for Terry. It was Donna's life, she could do what she wanted, but just the thought of one of his closest friends and (in all respects) his younger brother left him with a bad taste.
"Then why did you marry him?"
Donna looked back at him and shook her head. "Why were you gonna marry Kory?" she asked coldly. "You're not exactly allowed to ask me that question."
She rose from the couch and stormed out of the apartment, leaving Dick to his lonesome. "Well look who's being judgmental now?" he murmured once she was gone, crossing his arms not even bothering to go after her.
Donna'd closed the door behind her, she didn't hear Dick's final comment. Instead, she was on a mission, one that she still wasn't very sure was a good one, but she felt the need to at least extend an olive branch. She turned to the stairway. And noticed a shadow just outside the door. She descended the old wooden steps, hoping to God it wasn't some random addict or homeless vagrant. She pushed open the door and paused as she found him sitting there, smoking a cigarette. It was a habit he'd flirted with from a young age, one she'd always discouraged, but something told her, her opinion of it no longer weighed on him.
She bit her lip and closed the door, taking a moment before finally speaking. "Can we talk?"
A billowing smoke climbed into the air above him, but not once did he look back at her. "Talk, or lecture?"
She frowned at his coldness, trying to recall the warmth he once felt for her. Her mind drifting to the last time they'd actually talked.
He'd asked her if she'd share a drink with him and she agreed. However, one drink turned to two, then two to three, and three became four. Somewhere between two and three, Donna allowed Jason to drape his arm around her shoulder. She responded by leaning into him and letting her wrist rest just above his knee. Somewhere around drink four, he began to talk against her ear, pretending she could hear him better. But if anything, it only helped them push the rest of the world away. He told her of where he'd been, where'd he'd gone, what he'd learned and from whom he'd learnt it. He told her about his time with Talia and how'd she'd mentored him, but that he'd now found himself on his own. He still wasn't quite sure where he'd go or what he'd do, but that for now, he was content having her on his arm. That was the point at which he'd invited her to go home with him. And to her own shock and lack of better judgment, she'd agreed.
"Why did you have to bring that up?" Donna finally said pulling herself from the distant memory.
"I didn't, Donna, you did."
Her eyes diverted from him a moment as she spat, "So why'd you tell that blonde kid?"
"I didn't brag about it if that's what you're asking?" The Outlaw defended. "I know it didn't mean anything to you, but did it ever occurred to you that maybe it meant something to me?" He flicked the ash from his cigarette then took another long drag.
Donna remained speechless a moment, her tongue detached from the words she wanted to scream at him, yet they found no voice to speak.
"I understand that you had a reputation and a life to maintain," he continued, "but I didn't have any of that, and even though I knew you and I would never work, it still meant something that I was good enough for you, even just for a moment."
She shook her head, and tucked her hair behind her ear, her arms falling crossed at the revelation. "I was only trying to help you, Jay. I'm sorry I—I wasn't better…"
"Well then you have a funny way of helping people."
She rolled her eyes at his deadpan, the comment driving her breaking point. "This isn't a joke, I care about you, Jason. I was your friend when no one else would cross your path. I just wanted you to be a good person again, I want you to be the person I know you are."
Jason turned to her and plucked the cigarette from his mouth and smirked. "So you do care."
Donna cocked her head and sighed with frustration, "Of course I care." She sat down beside him on the step and clasped her hands on her lap. "I've known you since you were ten. You were one of my best friends. Me, Dick, Wally and Roy, we'd already lost you once, we didn't wanna lose you again."
"Yet here you all are."
"Yeah, I know… I don't know whether to laugh or cry about it," she whimpered. "I mean all of us haven't even been in the same room together in over a decade, then all this shit with Roy… and… here we are. Except Wally."
"He's coming by later, I think Jinx is bringing a lasagna."
Donna glared back at him not really sure if the statement were a plea for humor or not.
"What? Her grandmother's Sicilian, that's what they do in the face of tragedy, they cook, which is probably why Wally loves her so much?"
"…You're probably right," Donna said starting to giggle, but broke down into a soft laughter that quickly turned into tears. "I'm sorry," she muttered, wiping her eyes.
Jason wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in a bit. "It's okay, you can cry. I think you've earned it."
More tears fell as she wept, feeling the dismay. "Do you think he's gonna make it?"
Jason grimaced at the question, uncertain what to really say, but attempted it anyway. "I don't know, Donna, but I think if you give up on him, he won't."
She turned to him and wrapped her arms around the Outlaw, burying her face into the shoulder of his leather jacket. He comforted her for a minute until she finally collected herself and brought her chin atop his broad shoulder.
"This is ironic."
"It is, but I'm not too worried about it, I'm actually currently off the market," he laughed.
"Wait," Donna mused, unsure if she'd heard him right, "you mean Jason Todd is actually in a functional relationship with another human being?"
"Well I wouldn't call it functional , but it works," he replied with a shrug. "And for the record I had a girlfriend in high school."
"Oh yeah I forgot about her."
"Yeah she had that effect on people."
"Who's the lucky girl?" Donna smiled wiping away the last of tears with a sniffle.
"You don't know her," he replied with a smile, "you should probably keep it that way."
"She's trouble isn't she?"
"That's what I'm told, but I don't know, trouble has a way of finding me."
Donna smiled and bit her lip again. "So are we… okay?"
"Water under the bridge," Jason smiled back at her, "one night's not worth losing a friend over."
"I agree."
Dick waited in the shambled apartment, his hands shaking as they fidgeted without his knowing. It had been about a half hour since Jason and Donna hadn't returned which left him a bit worried. However, he pushed the possible ordeal aside and focused on the matter at hand.
A lot had happened in the last few days, never mind months. It seemed that his life, and the lives of the people around him, had changed, almost at the drop of a hat. Or in his case: a body. He couldn't help but feel guilty, fearing he was somehow responsible for all of it. Part of him going as far to think that maybe all of this could have been avoided if he'd just volunteered for the mission like he'd originally intended. A grim thought reveled in his eyes, thinking that maybe it would have been best if he'd just not come back at all.
He immediately scolded himself for such a thought, but inwardly flogged himself with the egregious idea. He was suddenly pulled from the depths of his colder conclusion, noticing the doorknob turn. The door cracked open and Raven slowly slipped out of the room, closing the scratched door behind her. Dick stared at her and quickly rose, moving to meet her.
"What happened, is he gonna be okay?"
An emotional smile pulled across her face and she nodded. "He's got a ways to go, but Dr. Thompkins thinks he'll make a full a recovery in the long run."
"Oh thank God," Dick sighed and opened his arms to embrace the empath in a hug. She blithely wrapped her arms around his neck, overwhelmed tears actually freeing themselves as he lifted her off the ground. He held her there a moment, finding comfort in the contact. She moved her head from the crook of his neck, and looked at him a moment, happy and relieved. He smiled at her, capturing her eyes as he rested his forehead on hers, holding her just a moment too long.
It was then they heard the door swing open behind them, startling Raven as she quickly slip down her former leader's chest. Almost reminiscent of a little girl caught kissing the boy next door, wide eyed as Wally and Jinx stepped in, Jinx, of course, wearing an inquisitive look.
"How is he?" Wally asked
"He should be fine," Raven replied with a deep sigh.
"That's fantastic," the redhead sang, worry loosening the reins on his voice. He wrapped his arms around Raven and Dick, pulling them into a group hug, whether they liked it or not. "I'm gonna go tell Jay and Donna!" he exclaimed pulling away, planting a kiss on Jinx as he passed her joyously.
She watched as he exited, leaning a hand on the rickety excuse for a kitchen table. She looked around, inwardly cringing at the state of the space around her. "So uh, our little trouble maker's gonna make it… that's good..."
"Yeah," Dick nodded, "you seem uncomfortable?"
"Yeah, I'm just resisting the urge to bleach every inch of this place." She looked around again, grimacing as she continued. "I figured you'd all be too busy worrying to feed yourselves, so I made everyone dinner. I hope you guys like Italian?"
"You didn't have to do that," Dick said offering her a smile, "but thank you."
"Don't thank me, it's what I do," Jinx replied appraising the mess. "Anytime someone in our trailer park got ill or died, my Nona would always make them a lasagna or a vat of Chicken Piccata. She'd put my ass to work to do it to, I guess it caught on… as did her urge to clean everything impulsively."
"Well thank you," Raven said just as the other three emerged from the hall. "As for the mess, feel free to knock yourself out."
Jinx smiled and nodded sardonically just as Dr. Thompkins also finally appeared. All eyes falling on her.
"So Raven said he should be okay?" Dick asked.
The doctor nodded. "Yes, I think with the right care and support he'll be fine, but that is a bit easier said than done," she added gravely.
"What do you mean?"
"Roy is very lucky. For an addict, he's relatively healthy, mostly due to the fact the people in your… profession generally lead more health conscious lives. But that still doesn't dismiss the fact that his organs are weak. His heart, liver and kidneys can't take another episode like this in the coming months… he cannot afford a relapse. If he does, he will die, or frankly, he'll wish he had."
Donna rose her hand to her lips, clasping it to her mouth. Dick only glanced down, noticing Raven's hand in his.
"The next few weeks are gonna be the hardest for him, once he wakes up it's gonna be an uphill battle. Withdrawal will set in by tomorrow, and normally I'd give someone in his position a low dose of methadone to take the edge off and keep the symptoms manageable. However, in Roy's case, his body can't even handle the methadone. He's gonna have to go through it cold."
"Isn't that kinda dangerous?" Jason asked, finally speaking up.
"Yes, the stress can be brutal and there are varying health risks that are also a great concern. But in your friend's case, he's more likely to die of a drug induced organ failure then he is of dying of withdrawal. And honestly, his biggest risk is a relapse. Frankly, I think his best chance is to enter a treatment facility once he's healthy enough. That's his best hope."
Dick nodded. "I understand, we'll make sure he goes."
"I'll come back in a few days to check up on him, I'll bring some information and get the process started. Sooner the better."
He nodded again catching the stares of others as they remained silent. "I'll walk you out."
Dr. Thompkins accepted the offer and followed the young hero out the door. They exited the apartment in silence, at least until the door was closed.
"So when are you going to let Bruce know you're in town?"
Dick exhaled, he was hoping that question wouldn't come up. "I don't know, maybe after things with Roy are more stable? I think that's where my focus should be at the moment."
"I understand that," Dr. Thompkins said stepping down the stairs. "But I get the feeling you may just be using that as a convenient excuse."
"It's not an excuse," Dick corrected. "I came back here to figure out who I was outside of Bruce's shadow, and unfortunately, I don't think standing in it is gonna help me see the light beyond it."
"Funny, I thought that's why you left Gotham in the first place?"
"Well it didn't go as I'd planned."
The doctor hit the unlock button on her key fob, the pristine Lincoln Town Car's headlights flashing in response. "So why here, why Gotham?"
It was a good question, but there were multiple answers, many of which he could not divulge to her. He'd just have to weave a partial explanation and hope it came off as full.
"Because I left everything here…" he paused, taken back by how deeply true that statement was. "I walked away from my whole world, and I didn't even give it a double take. Over the years I've thought about it and part of me still wants to know if it was worth it—if I made the right choice… and part of me just wants to know why it was so easy for me to walk away."
She stood there, her door open as she looked back at him ruefully. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Bruce would like to know the same thing?"
He frowned at the comment, but said nothing as he glanced away, unable to behold her aged and timely gaze.
"Talk to him, Dick. There will come a day when you can't. You should know that better than most." She knew she'd hit him right where it hurt, cutting him right at the Achilles'Heel.
He said nothing as she got into the car and closed the door. The headlights flashed on as the engine took life, leaving Dick to watch as she drove away, among the cold filth of the street corner. The air had become thin and cool. The rough scent of smoke and exhaust mixed with the smell of burnt tar as it rose from the pavement. The sky was growing dark, the gold light of the sun slipping into the grey just beyond sight. He could feel the atmosphere changing, the willingness of the day recoiling as the nocturnal world began to stir from their sleep, and soon awaking to the night. The urge to pull on his mask and go prowl crept up his spine. The sight of fearful, timid mothers gathering their children and herding them inside spurring him on. He began notice them—people lurking, their predatory gestures calling him to action.
He noticed a group of young man skulking around him, taking note of his clean shaven face and expensive watch. They knew he didn't belong, as though they could literally smell the rich-kid dripping off him.
"Hey man," one kid said in a cocky tone, "let me see that watch."
"No," Dick replied removed and began walking away.
"Dude, wasn't a question, let'em see your watch."
"Kid, you have no idea who you're talking to," Dick replied with little amusement.
The dominant one laughed. "Really? You're not from around here are you?"
"Maybe not, but I know a punk when I see one," Dick replied. "Now, I'm having a really bad day, so if you and your little merry band of assholes would like to keep your nuts intact, then I'd suggest leaving me alone."
"Who the fuck does this guy think he is?" another boy mocked, "the fucking Batman?"
"That's an awfully bold statement considering that no one knows who Batman actually is. For all any of you know, I could be the Bat… or maybe even something much worse?"
"Fuck man, what could be worse than the Bat?"
"You wanna find out?" Dark warning gripped his vocal cords, conjuring a baritone he'd hardly ever spoke in.
The boy he'd addressed, most likely their leader, backed off, taking the dark voice for what it was worth.
"Let's go guys, I'm not wasting my time on this fool."
"Oh come on," another barked, "we could totally waste this kid!"
"Go ahead—try me," Dick said daringly. "It's already been a pretty shit couple days, I could use something to break."
The second boy paused, wordless; the other boys cowering along with him quietly.
"Come on guys, we got shit to do," the first in command ordered, his minions pulling back without protest, as though little more than dogs, their tails tucked deep between their legs.
Dick watched as they went, wise enough to know not to turn his back to them. He knew he'd gotten off easy; they were just kids, not yet quite as hardened or callused by the world they come to know, but they would be. All they knew, they knew from the streets and what they learned from the streets, was how to survive. The other lesson they took was stick to the group.
They moved as a group, they played as a group, they fought as a group, and more importantly: they lived by the group. This concept was nothing new to him, he'd seen this pattern in people young and old since childhood and even more importantly, he played by this rule. He knew the impact of power by numbers, and he'd seen it executed not just by men of poor constitution, but also men of great scruples—men like Bruce and Clark.
At the end of the day, these kids were no different. They ruled with power by numbers, fear and intimidation, but it was how they applied those methods that made the difference. They were a lost generation with no morals or education to guide them from the fringe and into the ethics of the fold. Instead, they were left to wander, to forever walk the edge of the world, detached from the warmth of its inner workings and gilded from the light of humanity.
But to Dick, the greater tragedy was that he too, could have been one of them. And then, who would he be?
He waited patiently as the computer ran through every DNA database known to mankind, including one or two few people had access to. He took a deep breath, knowing the task would take a while, but he had time. He could smell coffee growing closer and immediately knew Alfred was nearby.
"Any luck, Master Bruce?"
"Not yet, but we'll see."
The Brit placed down a mug filled with non-other than black coffee, the steam rising, rich with its scent. The manor had become somewhat empty in recent years. For a time, Alfred was used to this. He'd, for the most part, grown accustom to the quiet after the Waynes' passing. The manor, which once housed many guests and parties, had grown barren and cold in the shadow of their death, and that didn't change upon a young Bruce's return. Sure the young playboy threw parties and on occasion would entertain a lady of beauty and status, but that was mostly to keep up appearances and keep the media off the scent of the Batman. However, it did little to warm the halls of that old and aging home, as it did little to warm the heart of the man who lived within its cold brick walls.
Alfred watched as the young boy he'd come to consider a son, grew bitter and unforgiving as the years rolled by. Something he so much wanted to alleviate him of. The old man himself had nearly given up all hope of this, until the day a child arrived. A young boy who'd lost his whole world, a young boy who needed a home and a family, and more importantly—a father. And unbeknownst to the playboy, he needed a son.
Alfred watched over the years as the manor began to warm itself. Soon the two had become inseparable: they were a team and it warmed Alfred's heart to see the void left by death filled by that of life.
With time, others followed and new team members were added, each one helping to build a family. And for the first time in nearly two decades, the manor was a home again, and the grandeur of that simple gift was something he couldn't imagine losing… Until it was.
The first boy was the cornerstone, better yet, he was Bruce's cornerstone. And when that stone was removed, the family crumbled. The death of the second son brought the structure to dust, and the rest of the pieces blew away with the debris, leaving the man in the ruins—alone. What was left of his heart had been taken, lost to the world as it drifted away into the ether. Never to return or look back.
And once again, the manor grew cold. The children like ghosts as their memories lingered through hallowed halls. They were missed and mourned, but silence was their memoriam. The man was the heart of the manor—the foundation of the family, and as long as he remained a man of stone, he'd never take in another child again. Instead, he waited, hoping that one day, the children would come home.
"Have you spoken to Master Richard in recent days?"
"No," Bruce replied lifting the coffee to his lips.
"Maybe you should reach out to him?"
"Because when I do it works out so well." He took a sip of his coffee, noticing the slight shift in Alfred's face. "He's just not interested in talking to me right now, Alfred… And I can't say I blame him."
"It seems none of them are, sir…"
"Thanks Alfred, I needed that."
Suddenly the computer paused, addressing that it had indeed found something of a match. Alfred was the first to peer up and quizzically expressed the findings:
"Is there any reason why you ran Master Richard's DNA, sir?"
Bruce knit his brow and glanced up from his coffee, taking note of the profile, Dick's ID photo happily staring back at him, aloof to the realization cast over the two men. The screen reading clear: Partial Match.
"I didn't."
"Oh dear."
It had been a long night, one of irony and memories of days long past, but also of the future and how to maintain it. There were tears; emotion were high. Their hearts full, but somehow empty all at once, as though everything would shatter at any moment. It was almost bitter sweet in a way.
Dick had returned to the apartment to find the group sort of sauntering around. Jinx was busy trying to clear off the stove in a quest to heat dinner, while Jason began looking through odd places in pursuit of contraband.
"What are you doing?" Donna asked him, watching him rummaging through a tiny closet near the kitchenette.
"Trying to find Roy's stash," he said. "Do you have any idea where he'd hide it?" he continued looking through pockets and shoes. Even peering into an old suitcase just to be sure.
"Why would he hide it in his coat?" Donna replied, too tired to really drudge up a more complex response.
"I don't know, where do you hide your dirty secrets?"
"My office."
"That's too easy," Jason replied and dropped the coat, picking up an old cactus by the window. "But that's definitely a place where secrets go to die."
"Well since there is no office, I'll go ahead and checked the fridge," Wally said, Jinx rolling her eyes at his declaration. "What?" he questioned defensively. "It's where I hide my secrets."
"If you mean snacks you don't want me to find, then you should find a better hiding place," Jinx snickered blithely.
Everyone shook their heads and continued looking around, delving under couch cushions and looking through drawers and cabinets.
"While you're at it, Wally check the freezer," Raven added, Dick looking at her oddly. "What? Some people hide things in the freezer."
"Hey, do you think we'd be doing Roy a favor if we drank his beer?" Wally asked staring at the nearly empty fridge.
"We should probably just dump it," Donna replied.
"Noooo," she heard Jason drawl, "that's alcohol abuse."
"Well, it's Miller Lite?" Wally said staring into the fridge.
"As long as it's not Pabst Blue Ribbon, I'll drink it," Jason replied.
"Me too," Raven added.
"Also, and this is really important, if anyone finds weed, do not—I repeat—Do Not flush it, cause I'm gonna smoke it," Jason announced, both Dick and Donna glaring at each other with an eye roll.
"And I'll help," Wally sang cracking open a cold one. "So will Raven, she loves getting baked."
"Wally?" Raven scolded in embarrassment.
"Hey, don't act like you've never helped me and BB roast a bowl before, Rae." the Speedster defended with a shit eating grin.
Jinx laughed as she opened her purse and rummaged, slipping her hand through the cut in the interior lining. "Then lucky for you, Rae: I have plenty," she smirked and placed a pen-like object in the empath's hand, its tank filled with oil. "You can have some too, Wonder Twins."
"Thanks, Jinx," Dick drawled sardonically. "I can't wait to dull my senses."
"Don't judge, Dickhead, sometimes the edge needs to be dulled," Jason added taking a sip of his beer.
Dick shook his head, Jason wasn't wrong, but he felt he'd been dulling the edge a bit too much as of late. He took a seat in the chair he'd first sat in during his original visit to the apartment a few months prior. His mind trailed back, searching for any detail he could recall.
"The bedroom," he declared and rose from the chair, pushing the door open.
The others stopped dead in their tracks as they watched Dick open the door and begin looking through the shambled remains. He took note of the musty bedroom, Roy lying on his side, covered in that sad excuse for a blanket. The tired mattress lay on the floor, no frame and or box spring to support or cradle it. This seemed odd, considering that beside it stood an old bedside table. It was scratched and the finish dull, but still, it was by far the nicest piece of furniture in the apartment. He approached it and opened the drawer, looking inside to find a half empty pack of Marlboro Reds, a lighter and an old tarnished flask. He lifted the silver flask, catching a glimpse of an engraving as it caught the light:
To the son I never had
Dick frowned at the words, feeling their bite more than he'd hoped and placed the flask back in the drawer, but noticed something wasn't right. The base shifted, not a lot, but enough.
False panel… he sighed inwardly.
He lifted the bottom up, beneath it a wad of cash, a handgun, fresh needles and syringes and (bingo) at least 10 thumb size bags of heroine. He placed the gun in the back of his waistband and procured the money in his pocket. He gathered up the bags and headed into the bathroom, dropping them in the toilet and flushing them to their watery grave.
"You're not killing yourself on my watch, Roy," he whispered and then went to join the others.
"Found it, flushed it." Dick then pulled out the gun and the needles, tossing the cash down atop the pile. "Found all this too."
"Nice, a Hardballer," Jason said picking up the gun to inspect it.
"We should probably throw those out," Donna said, addressing the drug paraphernalia.
"No, I'll take them," Jinx corrected, "we're low on medical supplies at the bar."
Raven nodded. "That's not a bad idea."
"This is fake," Jason droned, still looking at the gun. "This isn't an AMT."
Dick stared at it. "Ghost gun?"
Jason nodded. "Yeah, it's a good one too, very high grade and very convincing. It's been shot before too." Jason released the magazine, two bullets unaccounted for.
"Do you think it's got a body on it?" Jinx asked.
"Don't know, I'll have X look into it." Jason placed the gun in his waistband and handed Jinx taking the bag of needles and syringes. "How much money is there?"
Dick shook his head. "Maybe a couple grand, what do you think it's from?"
"Probably just whatever was left of his bank account," Jason added.
Donna let out a detached sigh, not really sure what to make of this sort of thing. She'd been out of the game for years, and even at that, drugs and gangs were never really at the forefront of her labors. She dabbled in corruption and politics and tackling more national affairs. Her time on the streets were minimal, and usually an afterthought in her mind.
Still, it broke her heart to think of everything that Roy had been through. How he could so easily give up his morals and what it took for him to do so. She felt a hand rest itself on her shoulder and peered up to find Dick gazing down at her, a stoic look cast upon his face.
"It's gonna be alright, Donna," he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Remember: one moment at a time."
She smiled, and wiped a tear from her eye, placing her hand atop her friend's, appreciating the sentiment.
The oven pinged, calling Jinx to attention. "I guess dinner's warm, anyone hungry?" A wave motion followed the question, everyone replying with some sort of shrug or nod. Except Wally; he'd sooner eat his own arm before declining food. "Good cause there's plenty; Wally come help me find some clean dishes."
"Right behind'y, babe."
They'd found themselves a pack of plastic utensils and some paper plates in one of the cabinets with some various bags of junk food, among other things.
"Hey guys, look what I found," Wally sang holding up a $10 bottle of Old Crow.
Jason laughed at the bottle, old memories rising to his surface. "Oh shit, this was my go to in high school. My grandfather used to drink this shit like water."
"This stuff's the best," Wally add happily, as though heaven had smiled upon him.
"You can't even maintain being drunk for that long," Raven droned, taking the bottle and inspecting it, "Is it any good?"
"You're looking at the favorite whisky of Mark Twain, you'll love it," Jason said, taking the bottle and cracked it open.
He proceeded to fill a few Styrofoam cups and passed them around the room until each empty hand was filled. "Well if today achieved nothing else, at least we all ended up in the same room together, for once," the Outlaw said glancing at Donna and rose a cup to everyone.
From that point on, they each took turns checking in on Roy and keeping each other company. As the hours passed and the alcohol flowed, stories of greener days were shared. Back before the world had swallowed them up and before they'd left the comfort of their childhoods. There was laughter and tears and talk of who they wanted to become, but hadn't.
At some point music began to play within the walls of the stale apartment, poetic strings of Shoegaze, the gritty sound distorted and lovely. Songs like: "Sowing Seasons" and "Erase" by Whirr, but it wasn't until the sound of Nothing played that the music began speaking to their lives. The guitar rolled in, mournful as single notes slipped into the soul. Lyrics followed, recited truth of pain and self-loathing, the distorted sounds of their lives coming together seamlessly. The song played on as the years rolled by. Even drifting as far as the outskirts of the city. The words infecting the thoughts of a white haired girl as she sang inwardly. Sat across from her father, wearing the dress he'd bought her, her nicest dress not to his liking. Instead, she was now adorn in a floral splash of red lace over the smooth cream satin beneath it. He'd never allow her to wear white, especially not for such an expensive dress.
The melody played on:
An alien princess happened upon the tune while scrolling through her ex fiancé's Spotify account, her heart breaking at the reminiscent melancholy as it played to her heartstrings.
Even Bruce seemed somehow attached to grungy ballad as he sat in pure silence, staring burdensomely into a computer screen.
At some point Donna vanished, slipping away from the conversation when no one noticed. She was later found asleep next to Roy, her arm wrapped tightly around his chest and her body pressed to his back protectively. The sight was something bitter sweet, striking a chord with all as it plucked at their heartstrings. It was soon after that Raven found an old air mattress and asked Dick for assistance. Jinx and Wally had fallen asleep on the couch together, leaving the others to wonder how they even fit. Although Raven had mentioned that it was probably because Jinx was built like a 12 year old girl. Jason, shockingly, was the next to drift into sleep, his eyes closed and arms crossed, his back propped against the wall.
"How can he sleep like that?" Raven asked looking at Dick.
"It's a Bat thing," he replied, "I wouldn't be surprised if he'd learned to sleep standing up."
"Can't Bruce do that?"
"Yep." Dick sealed the air cap and pressed his hand on the mattress, checking its firmness. "That should get us through the night, or what's left of it."
"I could honestly sleep on the floor at this point," Raven replied taking off her coat.
"Oh so I did this shit for nothing?" Dick giggled tiredly and removed his shoes.
"No, I appreciate it," she droned and unbuckled her belt.
Dick looked around, double checking that everyone was indeed asleep. "So I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I tell you everything, so… just don't say anything."
She smiled and nodded. "What?"
"So um… Donna and Jason did the unthinkable… together…"
He watched as Raven's stoic face struggled to fight the obnoxious laughter that dared to free itself. "Oh my God…. That's so weird… but I totally called it."
"Wait," Dick laughed quietly, "you kinda knew, and you didn't tell me?"
"No, cause if I told you about every time our friends shared a moment of sexual tension, we'd all be in trouble... including us." She giggled again and folded her jeans and coat neatly by her side of the mattress. "But seriously, I kinda picked up on something between them, but I didn't necessarily think there was anything."
"Well you were wrong."
"I was more right than you, Boy Blunder. God, I wish I could have seen the look on your face."
"Oh I was mortified, I may be scarred for life."
"Yeah it's kinda weird—" She paused and looked straight ahead a moment perplexed, "Um Dick… when did this happen?"
"Before Donna's wedding to Terry, I guess…"
"Oh," Raven sighed with a mechanical nodded. "Does Terry know?"
"No," Dick replied, "it's just me, you and those two—oh and… X."
"Why the hell does he know?"
"Cause life isn't fair."
"Yeah no shit," she yawned in a quizzical fashion. "Well, I'm not long for this world, goodnight."
"Night."
And the song drifted away, playing on somewhere in distant sound of the nothingness.