A/N: Okay so I really think you're all really gonna enjoy this chapter. I put a lot into this I this it's honestly my best addition to this story this far! I just wanted take the time appreciate how wonderful you guys are, especially those of you who take the time to review regularly: Micolodian77, you always read without fail, as do three of my guest users and you guys give awesome feedback! and you guys have been hear from the beginning, I can't tell you how much that means to me, thank you! Asilla and FFN1990, you're though you're a newer readers you always give great feedback that I look forward to. whitemiko 12 you're another reader who's been hear from the start and I hope it stays that way. Badger10 I hope your still out there as well as Racey2010 and shadowyshadows, you've all been great over the years, all of you! I just wanted to share that with you, I wish i could individually thank each one of yiu but that would have to be its own post lol. I know some of you are not comfortable reviewing and that is fine, I totally understand why some people don't like to review. So if you're one of those people just know I appreciate you too! Sorry to get a little emotional, but this chapter has been an emtional one that took me 2 years to get absolutly right! So with that being said, here its.
With Love --Ophelia
Chapter 28
The Carpenter's Son
"Sitting on the porch,
Living with the flies.
Your headlights blind us all.
Nothing's a surprise, anymore."
-Nothing
They ran down the street pleading with him, trying to convince him to look the other way, but it was useless. He'd gotten in the Jeep and drove to the courthouse and was now making his way to the steps. Wally and Raven were desperately trying to talk him down, begging him to stop before he embarked upon something he'd regret. Jason caught up and parked his Harley, making his way after the group, disparaged as their target broke through.
Jason could see Bruce in the distance, standing on the steps as he declined to give a few words to a reporter. "Shit this is not gonna end well."
He sprinted toward the crowd, practically able to feel the rage radiating from the ex-hero as he stormed toward the man in his sights.
Dick's sight narrowed as he pushed through the crowd. The voices of his friends' grew static as he distanced himself just out of reach. His face was dripping with anger as it burned in his chest and ripped through him violently. Like a flame threatening to destroy a lush forest. He bound up the steps of the courthouse, his mentor now only but a few feet away.
Bruce looked up, a visible moment of shock drawn on his once stoic face. "Dick, what are you—" he began, but his question came to an abrupt halt as his prodigal son's fist crashed against his jaw.
The furious blow was enough to send his magnificent stature to the stone steps below. Luckily, Bruce caught himself, his servant, Alfred catching him as he fell.
"You lied to me!" Dick spat as Wally and Raven finally caught him, but it was too late.
Everyone within viewing distance had their eyes trained on him now, as though they had no tact about them.
"You told me he was dead! How could you do that to me! How could you lie to me like that, Bruce?!"
The aging billionaire slowly rose to his feet, his expression painful, and, to Dick's blind shock, a little shameful. He wiped the blood from his mouth, a little startled Dick had actually hit him that hard. Just another reminder that his son was simply not a boy anymore.
"You're making a scene, Richard," Bruce finally said collected, realizing the presence of the perverse stares and media. "Now is not the time for this."
Dick scowled, finding the comment condescending and got ready to hit him again. However, this time, his mentor would be ready for him and was less than amused with this rage driven display of disobedience. But before Dick could clash with the man again, Jason planted himself between them.
"Whoa, man—hold up," he huffed, pushing the ex-Titan back, blocking him. "Don't do something you're gonna regret."
"Really, Jay!" Dick questioned lividly. "You're gonna tell me not to do something I might regret?"
"Normally, I would take that personally," Jason quipped, "but it's clear that you're not in your right mind. Just take a step back, man."
"You should listen to him," Bruce finally said, still wiping a bit of blood from his lip. "You're making a fool of yourself."
Dick tried to lunge forward, but Jason held him back, Wally and Raven doing their best to help.
"Not helping, Bruce," the Outlaw declared.
"How could you lie to me like that?" the hero asked, his face shattered. "I trusted you, I looked at you like a father and you fucking lied to me—why?!"
"Because he cares about you," said an even, but familiar voice. His heart stopped, it was her. "He still does..."
"Barbara," Dick mused, his heart plummeting, "you—you knew?"
She nodded. "So did Jason."
Dick's eyes fell on the young man before him, his blue eyes growing grey with anger.
"Dick it's not lik—"
"Shut up," the hero hissed and pushed him backward off his feet, Jason never seeing him so unhinged and unpredictable.
Dick looked down at him and scowled, when something caught his eye beyond the crowd. A man stepped forward, free of his shackles. His eyes traveled over to the seething young man, a smug smile rippling across the convict's hard face. The hero snapped and began to charge forward, his heart set on nothing short of revenge. Bruce, recognizing the look in his eye, as though it were staring straight back from the mirror, and cut him off at the pass. His hands alone acting like an immovable wall.
"I know you're upset," he said catching Dick by his shoulders, "but this is not the time or the place. I raised you better than this— your parents raised you better than this."
"You don't know anything," Dick hissed. "You never even knew them! My father would have never lied to me like this!"
"You don't know that," Bruce warned. "And you never will. Now, I'm not asking you to understand, or even forgive me, but I'm asking you to stand down, before you end up with blood on your hands, blood you can never wash off ."
"I already do, remember ?"
"I'm only trying to protect you, Richard," the stone man said, his brow hung with a heaviness.
"The only thing I need protection from is YOU!" Dick growled and pulled away from his once mentor.
The ex-Titan turned, taking one last look at the man who now walked free. A man he thought to be long dead, now only to find very much breathing while his parents lay cold in the ground. He could feel his heart rise into his throat and then slip back into his chest, sinking to the deepest pit of his stomach.
He caught the invasive glances and judgmental stares set in his direction, faces filled with whispers as they mumbled to each other, crafting tales of half-truths and rumors.
Dick only shook his head, they knew nothing and they never would. To them, he'd simply be that little boy left orphaned after he'd watched his parents die. To them he'd always be broken—a figment of a boy that never quite fit into their world, and never would. And it was moments like that that made that truth very clear.
He began to make his why down the steps, he just needed to get as far away from everything in that moment as possible.
"Dick wait," Barbra called as she reached out and took his arm.
He turned, his face cold as he felt her grip. "Don't touch me," he scolded, ripping his arm from her.
She looked at him startled, he'd never spoken to her so harshly before, he'd never looked at her with such disdain. "Dick?"
"Just don't," he said, "you didn't follow me 10 years ago, don't follow me now."
She looked back at him as if he'd verbally ripped out her heart, as if she'd somehow ripped out his all those years ago. She tried to say something, but the words refused to roll off her tongue, leaving her breathless in the most lonesome of ways.
He turned away again and made his way down the steps, wanting to be anywhere but where he stood. Nearly every detail of his life was falling away into question. Raven pushed forward, getting ready to go after him, his despair tethered to her as though they were one in the same.
"I should have known you'd be with him," Bruce said, addressing the empath.
"What's that's supposed to mean?" Raven asked, turning around.
As this conversation began, Jason and Wally began to follow their enraged friend, when the distraught redhead called, "Where do you think you're going?"
The Outlaw turned, telling Wally to keep going. "After Dick, what's it look like, Barb?"
"He said he didn't want to be followed."
"No, he said he didn't want you to follow him. Big difference, princess."
She scowled. "You lied to him too, remember?"
"Not like you," Jason countered.
"That's so like you, Todd. Always acting like it's everyone else who's wrong and you're somehow innocent in all of it."
"No," Jason patronized, "that would be you, little Miss I'll pray for you from my pedestal. "
"It means that I'm not be surprised that you'd follow him wherever he goes," Bruce said over the sound of Jason and Barbara's bickering.
Raven looked back at the dark man, his demeanor toward her cold, knowing his words were meant to insult. "If you have a problem with me being here, just say so."
"I think we both already know where I stand in regards to you , Ms. Roth," Bruce said coldly. "And you've made it very clear of your feelings toward myself and the League."
"You say that as though my general opinion of your treatment of me is unfair ?"
"If you mean treating a potential threat with some prejudice, as said threat has also shown to be very well deserving of that concern, then I would say our treatment of you has been more than fair ."
"Well you never fail to remind me just how condescending you can be."
"And you never fail to remind me that you're worth having an argument with." He cracked a slight smile, just barely noticeable.
Raven crossed her arms, Bruce may not have been fond of the empath, but he did respect her on an intellectual level. "That's because someone needs to remind you that you're not always right, and frankly, you're kind of an asshole."
His face took on a smug look. "You're not entirely wrong, but when it comes to matters concerning you, Raven —I'm always right." He looked down at her as her face filled with a bit of loathing. "I'd ask you what you and Dick are doing here, but I know you're too protective of him to tell me…"
"Then you know me too well," Raven replied and turned again.
"Trust me, Raven, you're a book I'm all too familiar reading ," Bruce reassured as she looked back at him.
"Then you're already aware that I don't like you all that much?"
He shrugged. "Then you must dislike yourself a great deal?"
"I think you're equally acquainted with that concept?"
"That's enough—all of you!" Alfred finally snapped, no longer able to witness the pure childishness the situation had fostered. "Now, though I understand Master Bruce's wish to keep this information away of the young Master's knowledge, I have to say I knew this day would come, but given that the damage is done, blame and bickering won't change anything. It is clear Master Richard is hurt, and rightfully so. I can only imagine he feels as though he's once again lost the people he loved most in this world. I also imagine you are all aware of that, but if you could momentarily retract your fangs and your own foolish sense of morality, you would see this is not the time, nor place, for this juvenile and most egregious behavior. Trust is something we all lost today, because we all indulged in the perversion that by committing a simple wrong that we'd done a great right. Well we didn't, and now, we must bear the consequence of our actions. It is all we can do."
Sets of eyes drifted down to the stone steps, not a glance being shared among any of the old Brit's constituents.
"Well technically Bruce made me lie," Jason mumbled, earning himself several glares.
"That does not make it right," Alfred corrected. "And I'm saying that as someone equally as guilty. Our sins cannot be absolved because of the why , it's the what that matters. It's what we do that permits us sleep at night. Though I fear we'll all be cursed with that poverty tonight."
888
Wally dashed down the street, trying to keep up with his friend through the thick density of people, moving like a cohesive current, Wally swimming against it.
"Dick wait!" he called, his voice barely echoing over the static of lost words and disjointed voices. "Man, come onーjust talk to me! I swear I didn't know anything." He finally caught up to him and met his pace. "Come on Dick, I know he lied, but he's your dad, just hear him out…"
The hero finally turned, his eyes dark with overcast. "My dad died in '98."
The speedster stopped dead, at a loss for words. "Listen, I know this sucks and trust me, I'd be pissed too, but shutting down and pushing everyone away is the last thing you should be doing."
"Why? So everyone can fuck me over as a collective again?"
"Dude, I'm your friend, we're practically family. I would never anything that to hurt you, and neither would everyone else."
"You're right," Dick said, "you wouldn't, but they did."
"You think you're the only one who's ever been lied to? My parents do it all the time. I mean God, I can't even count all the times my dad said he'd never hit me again or swore he wasn't shitfaced when he clearly was."
"Yeah that's all well and good Wally, we both know you're dad's a fucking asshole. So you should understand better than anyone how I feel right now."
"I do," Wally frowned, "and that's why you should talk him. You owe him that."
"I owe him nothing," Dick retorted bitterly, repulsed by the very concept.
Wally cracked an ironic smile and shook his head.
"What?" Dick asked coldly.
"For someone whose dad died in '98, you're awfully unforgiving."
"I'm sorry," Dick said sardonically, "but what THE FUCK is that supposed to mean?"
"That you should know better than anyone that Bruce won't be around forever," Wally frowned coldly.
"Fuck you," Dick snapped, "last I checked, you haven't spoken to your dad in over a year."
"Cause he won't return my calls," the speedster defended. "I'm just saying, your father may be dead, but you were lucky enough to find a father in Bruce. And I get it, he's not perfect, but he's the only father you have right now."
"That doesn't give him the right to lie to me, Wally," Dick grimaced. "Now if you're done lecturing me about why I should forgive the man who's lied to me since the day we met? Then I suggest you get the fuck away from me."
Wally took a deep breath, his nature prompting him to say something, but his heart told him not to. His shoulders fell as his lungs compressed like a burden. Wally understood, he really did, but he could also see the writing scrolled upon the wall like a John Milton poem. Bruce was only protecting his son from the very thing that stood to destroy him, and in an odd twist of fate, Dick stood to be destroyed by it anyway.
He turned to find the tall British man standing behind him, an ageing warm expression formed in the lines of his face.
"Hey Alfred," Wally said greeting the man.
"Hello Wallace, would you mind giving me a moment with the young Master?"
He shook his head. "Nope, hopefully you have better luck than I did."
Alfred smiled. "There is little luck to do with it, my boy," he said in a rich defeat. "In this case, luck was merely an invention of a fallacy, cursed from its very fruition."
"You make it sound so cut and dry," Wally mused, Alfred reminding him oddly of a statesman of sorts.
"In my experience, Wallace, truth is very much a simple and forward concept. It is we as people that complicate the truth with our own truth. "
Wally nodded, finding his words so well maintained he couldn't refute them. "You think he's gonna be okay?"
Alfred inhaled, and looked over at the young man trying to distance himself, not just from the truth, but the world. "Master Richard has weathered a lot through the years I've known him. He will mourn, he will be angry, but he will get back up. That is what he does, that is who he is." Alfred looked back at the young speedster as he glanced back at Dick and grimaced. "But for now, young Wallace, grieve he must, we must allow him that kindness."
"Thanks Alfred," Wally nodded, the old Brit giving him a warm smile.
"You're welcome, my boy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go see how Master Richard is fairing."
He only nodded and glanced down, a little regretful he'd let his own personal turmoil get the better of him. He watched as Alfred made his way down the sidewalk toward the fountain where the young hero sat, consumed with anger and self-pity.
Alfred watched him a moment, as though he were reliving some distant memory. He was after all about the same age as his mentor when he'd donned the mantle of the Bat. He placed his aged hand on the boy's shoulder, and if it were anyone else, he probably would have swatted it away, but not Alfred. He was too kind a soul to punish for the faults of others, even if he probably knew the truth the entire time.
"Why did he lie to me?"
Alfred took a breath, it didn't matter how noble the cause, he knew the young Master still wouldn't like it. "As he stated, he thought he was protecting you."
Dick shook his head. "From what though? Does he think I'm not strong enough to handle the truth?"
"No," Alfred sighed and sat down. "He was trying to give you a future, the one he never had."
"That's not good enough," Dick replied. "He let me think the man who ruined my childhood died… And—I know this is awful of me—but... I was happy he was dead, I was happy that he'd never end another life, that he'd never again ruin mine."
"I can understand that," Alfred said ruefully. "Master Bruce felt the same way. I think that's what he was trying to protect you from."
"Didn't work."
"Yes, I had a feeling it wouldn't. Reality is far too fickle to be fooled, it will eventually catch on to the veil hung over its head."
"That's probably the classiest way of saying " life's a bitch" I've ever heard," Dick managed to smile.
"That she is," Alfred agreed. "But Master Bruce isn't the only one to blame, I too lied. Though I fear my reasoning came more from selfish pride. Master Bruce is like a son to me, I lied for him because he needed me to. I'm sorry."
The hero shook his head, unsure of what to say and fell on his forgiving nature. "It's okay. I know if it were up to you, you wouldn't have lied. I just wish he'd told me the truth…"
Alfred grimaced, he knew it was difficult for the young man. He'd lost his parents, he'd lost his city, his pride had been wounded, and his heart broken in more ways than one. Alfred always knew that lie was a ticking time bomb and that one day that chicken would come home to roost. And just as he feared, the timing couldn't have been worse.
"I know you can't forgive him now," the aging Brit finally said. "But, that doesn't matter. What matters is that Master Bruce understands that you need Time: Time to grieve, Time to understand why he did what he did, and when that time comes—when you are ready—he'll be waiting."
"What if I can't—" Dick huffed, "—What if I can't forgive him?"
"Forgiveness is a virtue," Alfred explained. "It is something many people struggle with the duration of their lives. You, however, Master Richard, have always found the strength to forgive."
"That's not true," Dick replied. "I know you think it is, but I never forgave Zucco. Him being dead meant I didn't have to."
"He doesn't deserve your forgiveness," Alfred said calmly. "That's part of that great virtue. Forgiveness should be earned, it means nothing if the recipient can't see the error of their ways. It is complicated, but men like Tony Zucco can't be saved with absolution, the soul will not allow it, and neither should you."
Dick couldn't disagree, there was absolutely no part of him that was willing to forgive Zucco for what he'd done. The conception of that thought alone was enough to spark something vile and deathly cold in him. But still, there was a part of him that knew he'd have to forgive him enough not to act, and that was the part that frightened him. The part of his morality that required him to turn the other cheek, the part that meant he'd have to live in the same world as that murderer, walk the same earth, and breathe the same air. That part was practically screaming at him, screaming at him to act, but he wasn't quite sure if he could live with that.
"I know the burden you've been shouldered with is a heavy one, but shoulder it you must. There is no place in this world for vengeance, though at times I know it seems just. The truth is, if every person took their pound of flesh and their handful of dirt, this world would be picked clean, left with nothing but bones. The world can't go on that way, people can't live in the past nor should they let it fester."
Dick only glanced down at his hands, bathed with a guilty color, guilty of pain, suffering and even death. Yet there was something in him now that seemed conflicted. He agreed, he had to, but there was still that part of him that saw the world through a different set of eyes now. A set that saw a world filled with people who avoided punishment, that the red right hand had a place, a place where maybe God simply looked the other way.
"I know what I should do, Alfred, but what about what I want to do ? How do I just bite that back and keep it down? How do I live with that?"
"Because you have to," Alfred replied, "because it's your job to know that spilling blood won't change what happened. You cannot right a wrong with a life. It's painful, I know, but simple. You have to remember that the line between good and evil runs down the center of every human heart. It is your job to fight your lesser self."
Dick knew he was right, but simple it was not. If anything, the complexities were endless and all consuming. Summing it up to moral code seemed somehow trivial and empty in that moment, like a fate or despair one could only take so much of before it devoured them whole.
"I know the pain you're conflicted with now seems endless and undoing. I know that's why Master Bruce felt the need to spare you from it as a child. The only problem is you were powerless to do anything then, you're not now, and you know that ."
"And so does he," Dick added and stood up. "I'm gonna go for a walk and clear my head. If you could just let the others know not to follow me, I would greatly appreciate it."
"Of course, Master Richard," Alfred replied. "But may I ask if there is a motivation beyond clarity I should be aware of?"
Dick looked down at him, a chilled contradiction brewing in his eyes. "If there was… I wouldn't tell you."
"I understand," Alfred mused, "but if I may, I know the thirst is there, I've looked it in the eye every day since his parents died, but to give into it would be a far greater evil, and it's one you will never come back from."
"I know," Dick replied painfully, "but I need to make that decision on my own."
Alfred nodded, but his concern wore heavy on his face. "Again, I understand, I trust you will make the right choice."
"I will," the hero said looking down at his hands again, "I'll make the right choice for me. "
As this conversation came to its conclusion, Wally had arrived, meeting the group on the stairs.
"What happen?" everyone seemed to blurt out of sorts.
The redhead lurched back, not really sure who to address, or even what to really say. "Um… I think I made it worse."
"Of course you fucking did," Jason snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
"Hey, I was just trying to talk him down, make him see that this wasn't done to hurt him."
"Too bad he doesn't see it that way," Raven sighed. "And come on, how can he?"
"So what, you think because you were out of the loop that you can pass judgement on us?" Barbara snapped, calling out the empath.
"No, but if you can't bring yourself to understand how this bombshell of a truth might skew his perception of reality, then maybe some judgment is in order?"
Barbara frowned harder. "I understand perfectly clear, so save your judgment."
"Would all of you just stop it!" Bruce finally exclaimed, spooking everyone. "This is my fault—I accept that. Jason and Barbara were only doing as they were told, by me. Biting each other's heads off won't change that."
His words were heavy and drenched with rueful frustration at his given circumstance, especially for the fact that he couldn't change it. He watched as each set of eyes diverted from his direction, looking down with embarrassment. Bruce didn't yell often, but when he did, it was enough to make even the sternest of men wince. This group being no different.
"Wally where is he now?" Bruce asked calmly.
"With Alfred. He said he was gonna talk to him."
"That's good. Alfred's always been one for navigating these types of situations."
Jason looked over and noticed a red Wrangler pull up, X jumping out of the driver's seat, Rose in tow. He quickly nudged Raven and she looked over, X giving them a friendly wave. Such a douche.
"What do they think they're doing?" Raven asked in a hushed voice.
"I think they think they're helping …"
"Shit," Raven huffed. "That's never good."
"I know."
The two walked up the steps as Jason, Raven and now, Wally presented themselves as a human barrier.
"So I take it, it didn't go well," X mused lyrically, "y'know since Chuckles is nowhere to be found."
"You would be accurate in your assessment, but now is not the time or place," Jason replied, trying to turn the two away for the moment.
"I know," X smiled smugly.
Raven smiled back patronizingly at the thief. "Then why did you come?"
"Cause if this shitstorm goes exactly the way I know it will, then you guys are gonna need me."
"Then why'd you bring Rose," she added, "no offence, really."
"None taken," she shrugged.
"Someone has to drive the Jeep back, she knows how to drive stick."
"Fuck," Jason scoffed, realizing he was, indeed, the one who'd taught her that skill.
"Hey, you said it was a good skill to have, and that—" Rose recalled in her defense. But before she could finish her statement, Bruce's looming presence, peered over the three standing between them. "Wow that's a big dude." (Fun Fact: I just looked it up, Deathstroke's actually taller, I should really remove this XD)
"Eh leave it. Hey," X added, with a blasé wave as Rose smacked him with the back of her hand.
"Who the hell are you two?" the man questioned, Jason's face falling the hardest, Raven's hardly flinching, and Wally's somewhere in the middle.
"We're nobody you need to worry about," X said with a shrug, "feel free to go about your usual."
"This is my usual," Bruce replied stoned faced.
"Sadly," Jason droned with an eye roll he was lucky Bruce didn't see, but inevitably knew of.
Bruce was about to further the interrogation, but to everyone's relief Alfred returned. The ageing man walked up the steps making his way toward a group he knew wouldn't be pleased. Bruce, however, seemed to be looking at him the hardest, trying to decode the melancholy worn into the lines of his face.
Alfred finally reached the step where his audience stood, each one stricken with a similar inquiry. One Bruce was already well aware of.
"He didn't come back with you?"
"No sir, I'm afraid he did not," Alfred sighed. "And I'm also afraid to report that he requested that none of us follow him or seek him out."
The billionaire's brow creased. "And why would that be?"
"He said he needs some time to himself."
"He isn't going to do what I think he might?" Bruce asked in a near panic.
"That, I myself, cannot be sure of, sir."
Raven watched as Bruce's eyes grew wide, a stark shade of reality ripping through him like a furious wind. He feared the worst, and worst of all, he was the cause, and all because he wanted to spare a young boy the burden he carried.
"I have to find him," Bruce said pulling himself forward.
"But sir, he specifically said—"
"I don't care what he said!" Bruce snapped.
"Bruce, mayb—" Jason began, but was shut down.
"No! I'm not just gonna stand by and let him make that mistake!"
Raven, feeling a little turbulent from the blunt, and uncommon show of emotion, stepped forward. A fear similar biting at her. "No I'll go."
Bruce turned to her, her short stature nothing compared to his. "Like hell you are."
Raven smiled ironically and took another step forward. "Listen, I know you think I'm a terrible influence and all, but we both know you're the last person he wants to see right now. Do you really think you showing up and telling him what to do is gonna guide him further from the edge?"
"And what makes you think you're any better?" Bruce replied bitterly.
"I didn't lie to him."
"Oh you haven't now," Bruce said crossing his arms. "So what, you think because you're absolved of this one thing that you're better suited to deal with it?"
"Yeah," she said with her arms crossed, "at least he'll listen to me."
"And that's exactly what I'm afraid of. "
"And that's my cue," X said stepping forward. "Let me go."
The empath and the billionaire both glared at the blonde thief.
"And what makes you think you're any better? I don't even know you," Bruce barked.
"You don't need to, I'm whoever I have to be, and that's why I should be the person to go."
Bruce stared at him a moment, a stern look cast on his statuesque face. His steel blue eyes glaring beneath dark heavy set brows. There was something just beyond them, something unearthed deep in back of his mind, his eyes softening just slightly.
"Fine." He turned and instructed Alfred to get the car. "But if anything happens, I'm holding you personally responsible. Got it?"
"Normally I'd say good luck with that , but since I get the feeling that you're not above curb stomping my face, I'll take your threat to heart."
"Good."
Bruce walked down the steps, leaving the group and heading to the car. Alfred already had the door open as he stood waiting for him. Alfred couldn't help but notice a tired look starting to befall the master's face, something that was becoming more common as of late. He could see that with every step his mask wore off, pulling away from the burns and bends that afflicted him. He reached the final step and lowered himself to get into the car, and that's where Alfred noticed his face turn colorless and his eyes shutter close.
"Sir…" he said as Bruce's knees slightly buckled and caught him. "Are you alright?"
"I—I'm fine," Bruce said a little out of breath, "I just need to sit down."
Alfred nodded, trying to use his form to guard against watchful eyes. Bruce took hold of the support bar and lowered himself into the car, Alfred closing the door behind him, fear and concern heavy on his face.
He sat himself in the driver's seat and started the car, looking back in his rearview mirror and noticed the heavy breaths heaved by his employer.
"Are you alright, sir?"
Bruce looked up at him, his face a little pale and winded. "I'm fine, Alfred, I'm just tired. It's been a very trying day."
"I fear you've had a lot of trying days lately, sir," Alfred noted.
Bruce sighed, glancing away from his old friend. "It's what comes with getting old, I'm not exactly a young man anymore."
"But you're no means an old man either."
"I feel like one."
"I suppose two decades as the Batman would wear thin on anyone, sir," the old butler sighed. "I just hope that that's all it is."
Alfred pushed the car in drive and set off toward the Manor, contemplating his next course of action. Thinking to himself, knowing deep down that there was something more sinister than old age at work. But for now, he'd simply keep his suspicions to himself, at least until he spoke with Dr. Thompkins.
Both Jason and Barbara watched as the Rolls Royce pulled into traffic and drove away. Each of them thinking something similar, but they'd never see it that way.
"So do you think we fucked this one up?" Barbara finally asked, a reluctance in her voice.
"I don't know how you can even ask that question, Barb," Jason replied and turned his attention to the thief beside him. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but, I guess it's up to you now."
"You say that like I've never cleaned up your mess before," X replied.
"This isn't my mess, " Jason corrected, "just make sure Grayson doesn't do anything he'll regret, okay?"
"So make sure he doesn't pull a you , got it."
Jason noticed Barbara's face fall, like she wanted to protest the notion, but couldn't given the bleak overtone. To her, Dick was still that good natured boy she'd fallen in love with, but she couldn't seem to conjure how many years had passed between the man and the boy she once knew. How many losses, how many failures, how many nights spent awake, how many times his ideology was tested and how many times he was forced to see the world through different eyes. Jason knew Barbara couldn't accept that, she'd never accept him as anything less or more than Robin: The Boy Wonder.
X turned away and began to make his way down the steps, his sights set on tracking down the disenfranchised hero. Raven ran after him, taking the opportunity to voice her concerns away from the group.
"X wait," she said softly, catching his arm.
He stopped and turned to her, greeting her with a, "What can I do for'y, Sunshine?"
She gave a weak smile, though it was clearly overburdened. "I don't care how you do it, just promise me you'll bring him back safe."
"For you, Sunshine, nothing less," he smiled in turn.
She silently thanked him and he turned from her, making his way into the crowd and vanishing as if he were never there.
888
Hours had passed as he sat outside the bar, across the street, watching his target as he drank freely with old friends, now a free man. Dick's face grew darker as he looked on, his thoughts cold, bitter and turbulent. His brow hung low, his eyes filled with malice. He wanted to act, he wanted to make him pay for everything he'd ever done, and he probably would have, if it wasn't for the voice in the back of his head.
He watched as he placed down his beer and turned his head toward the window, almost as if he could see Dick through the glass waiting and watching, though it was clear that he couldn't. He watched his face, finding himself disgusted with the lack of empathy written upon it. Something telling him that Tony Zucco was far from sorry. He was older now, being merely a kid when he'd committed the murders, the last time Dick ever saw him.
He watched as Zucco grabbed his coat, greeting everyone goodnight. If Dick were going to act, it would have to be now, but there was something holding him back, but also something driving him forward.
Zucco wrapped his arm around a younger blonde with low standards, her dress too short and far too low, her makeup heavy and cheap looking. Dick rolled his eyes at the display. Irate that anyone could bring themselves to look past such poor qualities in another human, even if it was just one night.
They exited the bar in a drunken display of affection that made Dick want to vomit as he shook his head, unsure of what to do. It seemed the easiest course of action was to walk away, but that was so much easier said than done. He took a deep breath and opened the glove box, taking out the knife he'd confiscated from Cyndi's assailant, nearly forgetting he'd taken it. He pressed the button and the blade shot out with a sleek sound, the steel gleaming as it caught the light bleeding out from the bar.
Could I really… he thought brokenly as his mind drifted through different scenarios of running the blade across the man's throat. Or simply bumping into him as he walked along a crowded street and burying the metal in Zucco's gut with a sickening twist. Just so he could see the hatred in Dick's eyes before he took that final breath.
He looked up from the blade and gripped the weapon, disturbed he could even conjure such malice acts and be satisfied about it.
The woman broke away from Zucco a moment, apparently forgetting something in the bar and went back into retrieve it. He was now alone, lighting a cigarette with a satisfied look. Again, if Dick were going to act, then he'd have to do it now, there was no looking back. He started the Jeep and placed his hand on the latch, getting ready to open the door and step out of the car, when he heard the passenger door open and slam closed.
Dick looked over, startled, but his reaction quickly dwindled to annoyance. "X? What the fuck?"
"Hey Chuckles, nice to see you too: beer?" the grinning thief asked as he held up a six-pack of Bud Light.
"What are you doing here?" Dick asked, still very much annoyed.
X shrugged. "Moral support mostly, I thought you could use the company, or maybe use some help getting rid of the body… or bodies," he added, looking out just as the blonde left the bar and wrapped her arms around the felon's waist.
Dick looked out the window and shook his head, both in relief and disappointment, caught somewhere in the murk of right and wrong. He closed the knife and put it back in the glove box slamming it closed.
"Am I interrupting something?" X asked with faux naivety.
"No," the hero replied flatly.
X looked over to the bar again and then at Dick. "So you stalking the man that killed your parents is just a coincidence then?"
Dick's face turned red and frustration bled from his eyes. "What? Is this the part where you're gonna lecture me—tell me this isn't the way to deal with it?"
X shook his head. "No. I'm not gonna tell you how to deal with your shit, man."
"Then why are you here?"
"To help you figure out what you wanna do."
Dick looked at him a long moment, not really sure what to say. "So if I got out of this car, you wouldn't stop me?"
"Nope," X said. "If you think an eye for an eye is fair, then I'm not gonna tell you it's not. I'd be a hypocrite if that were the case. But if you're gonna do it, then you'd better make your play now, you're target's getting away."
Dick glanced away from him, noticing the crude couple leaving, making their way down the dark city street. Dick only watched as they got into a cab, his opportunity slipping away, part of him angry and the other relieved.
"Shit," he scoffed just under his breath as X cracked open a beer.
"Well that sucks, better luck next time, man."
"Shut up," Dick snapped.
X only shrugged, sipping his beer, he couldn't really blame Dick for being upset. "I know it feels like the end of the world, but it's not. I'm not trying to say you don't have the right to feel the way you do, but you have to remember that whatever you do, you have to live with it."
"What if I don't know what I wanna live with?" Dick asked at a loss.
"Then you probably shouldn't act right now, you should probably wait," X replied solemnly. "Y'know, see if the venom of this new reality stops biting, or see if that pound of flesh can fill the space in your heart. Either way though, I'd at least take some time to come up with a better plan, cause I don't see you doing very well in prison, pretty boy."
"You're such an asshole," Dick spat, shaking his head.
"Yep, it's part of my charm," X smiled. "But for real, I think you should put the gun down and consider whether becoming something you're not is really worth the cost?"
The hero said nothing, he just looked down at his hands, remembering the morning he'd picked dried blood from under his fingernails. He could still feel it caked beneath them, like ashes, remnants of a tragedy he'd live with for the rest of his life. He'd take it back if he could, even if others claimed he'd done the world a great service. That Johnny's life wasn't worth mourning over. But was it? Better yet, was Zucco's? Could Dick actually live with the blood of his parents killer trapped under his nails until the day he died? Would he even care?
"You're right?" Dick finally said. "But I'm not ready to go back to the bar yet. I can't."
"I get that," X nodded. "Anywhere you wanna go?"
Dick nodded. "Yeah, but I haven't been there in a really long time."
"Well then we should probably get there," X added and held up a beer. "One for the road?"
Dick rolled his eyes and shook his head, grabbing the open container and pitching out the window.
"Seriously?" X whined dully. "You're like the fun police, Chuckles."
"Yeah I'm not going to jail for you."
888
Raven sat at the bar, cradling her wine, worry stricken on her face as she glared at the window waiting for the two men to return. She was on her third glass, her nerves ready to shatter as she paced before the window. Jason, who shared a similar headspace, watched, detached from everything around him, feeling guilty that he'd had a hand in this travesty. Still, the sight of the empath's lost nature tugged at his heart, but he still had no idea what to do.
"Not to sound like a dick, but I think you're gonna burn a hole in the floor if you keep going at your current rate."
She stopped and looked at the young man, a slightly embarrassed look on her face. He smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood though it was clear he felt her sentiment quite well.
"Do I really look that crazy?"
"Why don't you take a seat, Rae," he smiled.
She placed her wine on the bar and took a seat next to the Outlaw. She looked down at the counter, still reeling, her heart unable to ease itself. She peered over at Jason, resting her head on her palm.
"Do you think X is gonna come through?"
He grimaced, but nodded. "Yeah, X doesn't make promises he can't keep."
Raven smiled grimly. "So you knew?"
Jason nodded ruefully. "Yeah, I wish I didn't, but I did. You think he'll forgive me?"
She nodded. "He forgave you before."
"This is different," Jason replied. "This is about his parents, it's a completely different complication."
"You were trying to protect him," Raven said lifting her wine.
"So was Bruce."
Raven looked away and down at her half empty glass. "Where's Rose?" she asked changing the subject.
"Unpacking," Jason replied. "She's got her own shit to deal with. I figured I wouldn't burden her with mine… And um, thanks for helping her out today. She doesn't have a lot of friends."
"It's no problem," Raven replied, "though you should be thanking me for saving you from a slutty lollipop."
"What?"
"Rose, asked me if she should complete her catholic school girl look with the addition of a lollipop ," Raven clarified. "I told her that would be like adding glitter: You don't need it and it looks trashy. I also pointed out that if you saw her sucking on a lollipop, dressed like that, that you'd probably lose your shit and start killing people left and right, or bust a nut, maybe both. So you're welcome."
Jason smiled crassly as she lifted her wine, the Outlaw staring at her moment before breaking out in laughter.
"Well then thanks for looking out, Rae," Jason smiled, the two sharing a well needed laugh. "You really are a good friend."
"I try," Raven replied sipping her wine. "Though, if I'm being honest, I'm kinda terrible. I've been trying to tell Dick about something and a I fight I had with Kory for the last few days, but every time I do, all fucking hell breaks loose."
His laughter ceased as he asked, "Anything you wanna share?"
"Other than she thinks the worst of me and I can kinda see why: No, not really."
"Well, then I'm sure Dick will understand you waiting to tell him," Jason replied. "As for Kory, she's probably just confused."
"I don't know if she is. Maybe I am?"
"Then you should probably work that shit out."
She looked back at him and then glanced into her glass again. "So is it always like this?"
"Not normally, no" Jason replied. "It's actually kinda boring, really. But yeah, everything lately has been pretty chaotic. But it'll settle, it always does."
"I hope you're right."
"Me too." he added.
Just as the words left his lips, the door opened and a tall man with white hair stood in the doorway.
"Shit," Jason said reaching for his gun, as Raven looked at him alarmed.
"Whoa," the man said with his cockney accent. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I—"
"Then why the fuck are you here?" the Outlaw snapped.
"He's here for me," Jason heard Rose say as she entered the room. "Hey Wintergreen."
"Hello sweetie. I'm just here to check in on Rose. I probably should've asked permission first?"
"You think?" Jason spat, still recovering from the near heart attack he'd just experienced.
"Well I'm sorry if I've caused you any inconvenience," the Brit said. "I just want to make sure she's alright."
"I'm fine," she smiled. She turned to Jason, seeing his worry and assured him it was fine. "Can I have a minute?"
He looked back at the white haired man and nodded. "Yeah, if that's what you want, of course."
She thanked him, knowing that she didn't need his permission and only asked for it out of respect. This was, after all his bar, Wintergreen wasn't necessarily welcome.
She looked over at Wintergreen and approached him, taking a seat at the table in the corner. The older man sat across from her, taking note of the fading bruises no longer covered by makeup on her jaw and neck. He knew exactly who they were from. Slade had an unfortunate history of lashing out against his children when they directly defied him. And sadly enough, Rose got off pretty easy.
"Your father isn't happy about your decision," he said as she glanced out the window. "But I just wanted you to know, I don't care."
She looked at him and smiled. "So you're not disappointed in me?"
"Of course not," he smiled softly. "I know you never really wanted this life, all I've ever wanted for you is to be happy. And in a way, your father wants the same… he just has a very different idea of what that looks like."
"Yeah," she sighed, her brow raised in irony, "his idea of happy means power, but the only power I've ever wanted was the power to decide who I am and how I live my life. I'm tired of being defined by who my parents are ."
That was the cross she bared, even before she was taken under the wing of her father. She was the fatherless daughter of New York's most notorious madam. She grew up in a shitty neighborhood, where most of the kids were destined to lead the lives of addicts, dealers and single mothers, each one simply repeating the very cycle that secured their place among the under privileged. Girls like Rose usually ended up pregnant or turned to the street to make their money, many times falling victim to both. They hardly ever got out, they were convinced they couldn't. She could understand why her father felt the way he did. If he'd known of her existence, he would have never stood for her upbringing. To him, Rose deserved better than what she got, she was better than settling as "some street rat's ol' lady." But Slade could never bring himself to accept that Rose wanted to make that decision for herself, and oddly enough, both her father and her mother had a driving hand in her desire to someday have a real family .
"And I know that," Wintergreen nodded. "You were never really dealt a fair hand, and I know as much as your father wants the best for you, it doesn't mean he actually knows what that is."
Wintergreen could remember the first time he'd met Rose. She was young, hardly even a teenager. He'd recalled the bruising on her face, similar to the faint black and blue she wore now. She'd apparently been walking home that night, by herself nonetheless, something she was no stranger to by any means. She may have lived in a rough neighborhood, but she still felt safe there somehow, her mother's name usually earned her respect she'd never be granted otherwise. However, that respect was something that was seemingly losing its value as currency, and Rose unfortunately found herself on the receiving end of it. In the end she knew she'd gotten off easy with a few cuts and bruises, it was a warning to her mother and nothing less. Lillian Worth knew better, if they were willing to gang up on a defenseless 14 year old, then God only knows what they'd do next. The following morning she packed Rose's things and sought out her father.
He recalled how shut off she was, completely shell shocked and numb. She'd been told some fairytale that her father was a soldier who'd died overseas not long after her birth. Her mother had even gone one step further, gifting her a teddy bear she claimed her deceased father sent for her. It was all very heartbreaking and a lot for a child to take in such proximity. Her mother told her she'd be back for her in a few days, when it was safe to do so, only that day never came. Rose's mother died at the hands of the men she'd met on the street that night, and unlike her, they were not so charitable. In all, everyone in her mother's brothel, including the children she cared for and regarded as family, were killed.
He recalled her heartbreak, her pain, her fear, and if Rose had been anyone else, those events would have destroyed her. But she was her father's daughter after all, and his determination was something she favored of him. That and her ability to persevere, to fight and to win. But she had something her father didn't have much of: compassion, and that was something Wintergreen encouraged her to hold on to.
"You'll always be your father's daughter," he finally said, "and I know you think that gives you a disadvantage, but it doesn't. Your father used to be a very good man, he lost that, but you don't have to, Rose. You can be the person your father wanted to be, even if he can't remember that now."
"It's hard to think of him being like that—Hell—it's hard to think of myself being like that now."
"You're not a bad person, you're still young, you have a long way to go," he added. "You've simply done what it took to survive, that's part of your nature."
Rose glanced over at Jason who sat with Raven at the far end of the bar. He too knew a thing or two about survival. That was part of their connection, it was the thing they respected about one another. Wintergreen followed her gaze and found the young man in her sight.
"You like that one," he said and looked back at her. "He's good to you?"
She nodded. "Yeah, he's a little overprotective, but it's nothing I can't handle," she smiled. "I actually kinda like it I think?"
"You like knowing someone has your back." A warm look took over his face. He too had been protective of Rose. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous in a fatherly way, but in all, he was happy to see her look at someone like that, but it also broke his heart.
"So you're not mad?"
"No, of course not," Wintergreen assured. "As long as you're happy and he treats you with the respect you deserve, then I'm more than happy for you..." He paused a moment and scratched his chin. There was a cloud looming over head, something he just couldn't overlook. "So you really do love him?"
"Yeah, I do," she nodded.
"Okay—good," he said, trying to cover up his concerns, keeping them hidden away.
"Hey Wintergreen," she asked slowly, "what about my dad?"
"I wouldn't worry about him, honey," he smiled weakly, "I'll talk to him, see if I can get him to change his mind ." He frowned inwardly, knowing the outcome would probably never change. Slade was too stubborn and too self-severing to ever trust his little girl to another man, never mind the Red Hood.
"Thank you."
"Anything for my favorite girl." He leaned over and hugged her, letting her know if she needed anything to just ask.
He then turned his attention back to Jason, making a hand gesture for the young man to approach him. It was a bit of a bold move on his part, but as far as he was concerned it was warranted. Jason stood up and walked over, curious as to what the man wanted.
He stood before the man looking back at him quizzically. "Yeah?"
"I love that kid as if she were my own, you take care of her or I'll cut you're—"
"Okay, Wintergreen," Rose said cutting him off, "he gets the point."
Jason nodded. "I will and noted if I wanna keep my sack."
The old Brit smiled. "Good, cause this one may want children."
"Whoa," Rose huffed with embarrassment. "We just moved in together, one thing at a time."
"See," Wintergreen shrugged, "she didn't deny it."
Jason smiled looking at Rose as her face fell in humiliation. "I'm sure Rose would make a great mom someday," he replied cordially. "But you have my word."
He nodded, hiding his regret firmly and turned to Rose. "Well I should be going, stay in touch, my dear. I'll try and pop in from time to time to check up on you."
"I will," she said as he hugged her and planted a kiss on her forehead.
He pulled away and smiled at her in a fatherly manner. Before exiting the bar, he turned his head to Jason and nodded. The young man returned the gesture in understanding and Wintergreen grimaced slightly, checking his watch.
He left and sighed once no one could see his aged face. However, his job wasn't done yet. He looked around, knowing her schedule too well for his comfort. She hardly ever veered from her habits, only doing so when faced with an obstacle. Lucky for him, tonight didn't seem to conjure one.
He stepped around the corner, the husky scent of marijuana burning from the one hitter between her lips. She glanced up, her green eyes flaring a second as he looked back at her.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" the redhead spat, her brow creased glaring back at him.
Wintergreen held up his hands in surrender, letting it be known he wished to cause her no harm. "Easy my dear, I didn't come here to affront you, I'm merely giving you a message."
"A message?" Duela questioned, "from who?"
"Read it and you'll find out," Wintergreen replied removing an envelope from his coat and handing it to her.
She looked down at the white paper, her name scrolled over the front in a stern feminine hand. She looked up at him quizzically and took the letter.
"Not a word of this to anyone, or the offer is off the table," he added, noticing another familiar redhead walk around the corner and begin to approach. "Not even to your little friend ."
She grimaced and watched him leave, hearing the footsteps draw closer. She watched as he nearly vanished into the dusk, his coat flaring out behind him as the wind flew past.
"What was that all about?" Enigma asked finally reaching her friend.
Duela placed the letter away before it could interest her and replied, "Nothing, he was just asking me for the time."
"Oh," Enigma sighed, studying her friend a moment, knowing something didn't quite fit. "I thought I recalled him wearing a watch?"
Duela shrugged, playing it off as nothing. "Maybe it's broken?"
"Maybe," Enigma replied. "Seems a lot of things are broken lately."
888
"So this is it?" X asked through the cool night air, the slight warmth of spring just barely creeping through.
Dick nodded in reply, a heavy sigh escaping his throat, "Yeah…"
He looked down at the large granite stone, recalling how Bruce had taken on the financial burden of the funeral arrangements. At the time, Dick was far too young to understand the generosity of it, and as he looked down at the fine stone work, he couldn't help but feel grateful.
But still, that resentment clawed at him, like a sharp thorn in his side.
His eyes caught the sight of a bundle of flowers, a bit wilted, but somewhat fresh. It perplexed him a moment as there weren't many people left to remember them. As far as he knew, the only two people who really cared were Mr. Haly and his father's close friend Boston Brand who'd still lived on the Haly's Circus compound. However, neither of them could afford the grand display of flowers that were left, as he recalled, they could barely afford a simple pine box. He also noticed how well the grave had been maintained, something in and of itself a great cost.
He looked away, realizing who'd probably left them, feeling guilty that he'd finally shown up after nearly 20 years.
"So…"
"So," Dick shrugged.
"Do you feel any better?"
"No," Dick breathed.
"Yeah, sometimes time can never fix what's broken."
Dick nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on the engraving, Mary and John Grayson. He couldn't help but wonder who'd they'd be—who he'd be if they were alive today. He certainly wouldn't be the man standing before their memory now. In a way, he couldn't remember them, they'd been gone so long. They were such a distant part of his life, a world away from where he stood now. He glanced up to the night above, if there were truly anything beyond his existence, what would they think? Part of him quickly clung to logic, telling himself there was nothing, but at the same time wanting there to be something out there in the ether. Simply because, if there were truly nothing, then he'd never see them again, and he didn't want that.
"So what about you?" Dick finally said, trying to veer away from the thought he'd conjured.
"What do'y mean?" X replied glancing over at the hero.
"I mean your parents, are they alive?"
X looked toward the grave and took a deep breath, nodding, "Yeah, they are..."
"You don't seem happy about that?"
"My parents aren't very good people , not that I am either, but… they're on a whole other level."
"Sorry."
"Don't be," X lamented. "I've lived a decade without them, and I'll live as many more as I have to."
"Where do they think you are?"
X rolled his eyes coldly. "The last place they put me."
"And where would that be?"
"The ground."
Dick glared at X a long moment, contemplating if he'd heard him right. "They think you're dead?"
X nodded.
"But why do they think you're—"
"Because my dad thinks he killed me," X finished, his voice weighted as he spoke.
"How—why would he do that?"
"It's complicated," X tried to reason, "but in short, I didn't wanna keep my mouth shut and I didn't want to be like him anymore, it didn't go over well."
"But how—"
"I really don't wanna talk about it anymore, okay Chuckles," X interjected with chilly demeanor, feeling he'd already shared too much.
"Okay—fine… I'm so sorry…"
"It's fine," X shrugged, "I know it's a lot to take in, I still have trouble putting all the pieces together…." He paused, staring at the stone as he sank to the ground, part of him asking God why he'd take better people. "But in truth, I don't completely understand it myself."
"Does anyone know?"
X shook his head. "Jason and Jinx know bits and pieces, I think Raven knows more than she's letting on, which I think you get," he added as Dick nodded in understanding, "but, honestly, there are really only 2 people who actually know who I am, or more appropriately, who I was , and they'll never breathe a word of it."
"So you're like a ghost?"
"If you wanna be poetic about it, yeah—sure. I mean, a memory is basically all that is left of me."
"I strangely understand that in a way."
"You do," X agreed. "You and I, we may act like we're different, but we're far more alike than you'll probably ever know. You actually remind me a lot of who I used to be, when I was someone."
"That's why you tried to warn me."
He nodded. "Yep, good people only have two options when they lead this life, become a monster or be eaten by one. Here, you live by anarchy, you die by anarchy, there's no other way out."
"It really is too late for me now, isn't it?"
"In a way, yes," X replied, "but in another way no, but I get the feeling you don't wanna go back. It's not home anymore. You don't fit."
"It hasn't been for a while, it's just an old memory of something I once had, someone I used to be..."
"And that's why you're here, you were hoping they would help you feel at home again…"
"Something like that," Dick reasoned. "They've been this missing part of me. I've spent over a decade trying to fill the void and I can't..."
"I get that," X grimaced. "I mean, I don't know who they were, but maybe you're just looking for them in the wrong place? Remember what Raven said: they're not here ."
"Yeah, they aren't."
888
She laid in bed, hardly asleep, her heart eagerly awaiting his return as it beat slow. The apartment was dark, as were the halls, each room filled, doors closed and locked. Faint voices could be heard, soft whispers through the night. She recalled sounds similar in the tower, her friends', their lives echoing down the hallways, making their way back to her. Only it was different here: lonely. She could feel the foreign emotions running through her: fear and hate, as well as sadness and an odd sense of emptiness she knew in her own company.
The turmoil ran through her, like voices in her ear, their faint secrets like a dull knife she could not quite pull from her heart. It was something she'd slept through a thousand times or more, only now— he wasn't there.
She took a deep breath, the air stale and dusty, but there was something more. The presence cut through the white noise as though a ghost in the foggy mire. She heard the door slowly open, footsteps quiet as he entered, shutting the door carefully behind him. She heard him breathe, the scent of loss on his breath.
She could feel the betrayal, still fresh, as his shirt hit the floor. Yet the earth still moved and the moon still hung above where it loomed. His life's worth of defeat now weighing on his body as his weight pressed upon the bed, the mattress sinking where he lay.
"Hey," she whispered, finally turning to face him.
"Hey…" he breathed, tired and wounded.
"You okay?"
"I don't know..." his words painful as if the exit of a deep blade.
She grimaced, reaching out to brush the hair from the forlorn expression on his brow, her palm falling to his cheek. It was hard to see him like that, dejected and lost as her fingers stroked his stubble and pride. His eyes met hers, their blue cobalt clouded and stormy as they peered back at her with a need. The only time he'd ever looked at her like that was the night their bond formed. He was once again tired and defeated, his pride shredded and his dignity humiliated. He was merely a boy then, yet his heart ached as any man's would. He looked back at her with that stare, a vanquishing burn peering back from where a hint of childish wonder used to be. It was then she realized she'd witnessed a part of him die.
She watched as his hand, without thought, fall upon hers, letting his thumb run over her knuckles.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered, mournfully, feeling the deep void in his chest.
She ceased to speak, his fingers lacing through hers as his lips pressed against the back of her hand. Her breath hitched a moment as there was something different about his touch, something wanting, something intimate.
She let out a taught breath, his palm sliding down hers. The moonlight cut through the window pane and bled over the bed, leaving her skin bathed in pale blue. She felt his knuckles drift up her arm, her flesh still warm from the wine. His touch inviting as his hand cupped around her shoulder.
She was only but a breath away from him now, her deep eyes somehow speaking to him, the way they distantly had so many times, but she just never acted on. In a moment of infatuation, he brought his hands to her face, cradling her jaw and neck. His forehead fell against hers, a distant part of him had always wanted to know that carnal side of her, had always chased her from that distance, but she'd never once invited him home. Only he now, truly needed her to.
He looked back at her with a peculiar nature, as if he starved to know what she felt and tasted like. Like he wanted to be more than just the part of her he was, like he wanted that most intimate part to himself. Yet through it all, she could still feel his pain and the loss so fresh in his heart. Leaving him aching for her comfort. Comfort she'd agonized so long to give him. Wanting nothing more than to make him whole again, or at least help him get through the night. He needed her, that was all that mattered.
He watched her lips part as she pressed them softly to his. His grip tightened gently, his fingers slowly tangling in her hair, breathing in her thin sigh. Kissing her deeper to taste the aged wine still faint on her tongue. He pulled her body closer, drinking her in, feeding his need to lose himself in her. He could feel her hands delicately traveling across the plane of his bare chest and abdomen, tracing the outline of his scars, new and old. Each one born with a story and each one tethered to a memory that would never fade from existence. Much like his love for her.
He pushed her to her back, letting his body fall atop hers, her legs tangling around his waist possessively. His hand pulled at her hair, allowing him to bite at her exposed neck, the heat of his breath beating harmonious with the blood pumping from her heart. She let out a moan as her nails dug into the nape of his neck, his hands roaming over the hills and valleys that made up the plane of her being. He found the hem of her night shirt, pulling it up and over her flush breasts. His lips met hers again, desperately living off her breath as the white garment was freed from his grasp.
She snaked her arms around him and pulled him down to meet her, biting at his collar and lower lip. He let the heat of his breath guide him over her bare form. His lips traveling down the fresh bloom of her breasts, his mouth finding a nipple and closing around it. He continued down the plane of her stomach, nipping gently, just enough to entice her. His hands traveled further, calloused palms exploring the part of her he didn't know as they ran down the illustrious curves he'd known from a distance. His body pressed to hers as if feeling with his skin.
He'd always needed her. That was clear from the moment they met. They each lost something the other had, as they were simply two halves of the same whole. And through everything that led them to form their bond, he'd lost so much that he needed a part of her to live. But now, he needed more .
He approached her lap, rising as his hands drifted to her knees and slipped back down to her hips. She glanced down, perched on her elbows, looking back at him between her thighs. They shared a still glance, Dick waiting for her silent confirmation before hooking his fingers around the edge of her lace panties and pulling them from her hips.
He knelt down and slowly descended on the forbidden fruit before him, his breath approaching dangerously close to her autonomy. She bit back a steep breath, the fervor creeping closer, until she could feel the faint brush of his tongue dusting over that once personal boundary. A gentle cry caught in her throat, her legs growing slightly taut as she quivered at his touch, his tongue slowly unlacing her womanhood. Her head fell back, a deep whimper erupting from her core. He let his tongue sink into her, gently lapping her up and traveling upward, seeking that key knot he knew would utterly undo her. She felt his tongue trace a slow circle around his target until his lips finally encompassed her. Her body shook in a blissful torment as she cried a painful sigh, helpless to the slow burn devouring her after years of longing. He continued his lustful assault, his thoughts momentarily lost in the fever, lost in her.
He withdrew from her lap, his body cloaking her form as she hung from his neck like a chain clasped to his every whim. He kissed her again as he pulled her near, her hands blindly wrestling the grey briefs from his waste.
She'd be lying if she said she didn't need him too. She was merely accustomed to the burden, the wanting and aching alike. He was just another thing she couldn't have. But still, she loved him, and loved him deeply. She loved him in a way she was incapable of for any other. She'd given him more of herself than anyone, better still, she gave him her best. If for nothing else than because she never wanted anyone to have that much of her, only him.
The space between her thighs ached with anticipation as he readied himself at her threshold. She roughly gasped as he delved into her, her body flickering as though a match had been struck. He released his own hoarse moan upon his carnal entry, the sight of her body writhing beneath him—intoxicating. Still, he collected himself, listening to the soft sound of her whimpers as he began to rock against her: Starting off slow, but torturous as he gradually picked up pace. She bucked her hips against his, each sinful sigh like a song pushing him on.
Dick's left hand encompassed her neck, just under her jaw, and kissed her a little violently, biting at the taste of her lower lip and her elegant neck. As if it were not only the first, but possibly the last time he'd ever touch her like that again. She wove her legs around his, pulling him closer and deeper into her. The heat of his breath beating against her skin was about enough to set her aflame, her head falling back in a moment of fevered madness.
She wanted to tell him everything, confess every last secret she kept through the years. How she loved him, how she wanted him and how she never wanted to be apart from him. But to say something so deep would mean there was nothing left to give him. He thrusted harder, her body getting ready for that very moment when she'd absolutely die for him . Her soft flesh growing red, as did the plane of his chest, his own body growing ready to die in her.
"You don't know how much I've needed you," he whispered breathlessly in her ear, the heat of his words melting away at her will.
"Richard Grayson, I—uh..." she panted, but unable to recite her confession as a fiery smoke consumed her.
For a moment, Time was something that became lost between them. The beginning colliding with the end. Either way, in that end, as it all came crashing down to nothing but a brief moment. And like time, one kiss turns to two, and two to twenty, for those lost in the fever. But one can only end such brilliant suffering with that earth shattering moment of an end . And for the two birds, that moment came with all its blissful ferocity as the sky itself suddenly fell.
Raven let out a high cry in an octave Dick never thought her capable of. His own painful groan erupting from the pit of his chest as it ran through him in a fleeting high. He gripped the headboard, hit suddenly with every bit of pain, guilt and loss all at once, his eyes growing glassy as his formidable growl devolved to a dying, yet mournful whimper.
Raven looked up at him alarmed, feeling the disquiet ripping through him. His hand fell over his eyes, both in an attempt to shield himself from her and to wipe away the few tears that managed to break free.
"Oh God," she gasped still, breathless, "Are you—are you ok—"
"I'm fine, uh" he replied cutting her off, letting go of a rough breath as his hand ran down his face. "Everything just kinda hit me all at once..."
She nodded. "Okay," she huffed still trying to catch her breath.
He tiredly fell to his back beside her and wrapped an arm around her, allowing her to rest her head on his chest. She could feel is heart beating at a rapid, but steady pace beneath her warm palm, his body heat scorching against the cool air of the apartment. Her breath had begun to slow, as the reality of what they'd just done began to sink in. This was something they could never take back, but what did that mean?
"I'm sorry..." she whispered again, having no conceivable thought about what to say.
A heavy sigh escaped his chest. "Don't be," he replied and kissed her forehead, holding her protectively. He guided her chin upward, letting his lips take hers again. He too had no idea what to make of it, but he knew how he felt, and if nothing else, at least something finally felt right. As if together they were one bright soul in the emptiness.
A/N: Well I hope you're shit eating grin is as big as mine XD I truly hope that you guys enjoyrd this ast scene and that it was everything you wanted to ignite that slow burn you have been talking about ;] But let me know how you liked this chapter overall, like I said I put a lot into this chapter and I hope it shows!
Love you guys, I'll try and update soon!