Wind and the Snow
Part IX
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein belong to DC, Warner Bros, and whoever else. Not me. I am simply borrowing them briefly for the purposes of entertainment. No profit is being made from this fanfic.
NOTE: Okay, I admit it. This part isn't written how I originally plotted it. It's been truncated and a lot of the planned content, I have decided, would fit really nicely into the now-slightly-plot-modified interlude fic that will follow this one. Blame a smallish, teetering stack of Ultra's, a really nifty fic-inspiring panel of Ridley and Donny in one of the aforementioned, and the friend who loaned them to me. Not my fault at all. Really. Honest. . . sigh. **hangs head**
As always C&C would be greatly appreciated.
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The flight back occurred in eerie silence. 'Eerie' because never before, in all their adventuring, had Young Justice managed to remain quiet for any length of time, even with, as Superboy had occasionally pointed out, Robin doing 'the Bat-Glare of Doom'.
It was still a fair comment: No one was glaring, least of all Robin, though he was nonetheless the reason for the quietude. Still uncovered, the blood-coated boy's face was schooled into a blankness that rivalled his normal mask. Though none of them, least of all Superboy, would ever admit it, it was more unnerving than any grim stare.
Robin didn't notice. For once, the ever-observant junior detective moved in the strict autopilot mode that was a product of both Batman's training and the remnants of the Doctor's programming.
Impulse, with more tact than most of Young Justice would have given him credit for, was quietly tending the still-woozy Empress, whilst surreptitiously keeping half an eye on Robin. Not that I think he'll throw himself off the cycle or anything. Anyway, the cyke wouldn't let him, but still . . . His hand tightened around the mask and wig he'd stowed on the seat next to him.
Superboy sat quietly, alone with his thoughts despite the close proximity of Wondergirl. Well, this was a major disaster. Murder, mayhem and a trip to the desert were **not** what I had in mind for this little reunion! Gawd, poor Rob. He looks like I felt when Tana. . . when I lost Tana. For all that he denies it was romantic, there was definitely some attachment to that chick, or at least the guy in her body.
Beside him, Wondergirl split her time between watching Robin worriedly and glancing across at Secret. Not that she was, like, concerned or anything. Nah, not her. Robin was tough, he was trained by the Bat. Bat-people did this tragedy stuff all the time, to keep themselves in that whole grim and gritty frame of mind, right? Right? And I wish I knew what's eating Secret. I can't help but think it's connected, and not just because she's got a crush on Rob.
Secret's crush on Rob, while central to her own concerns, was the least of the issues she grappled with. Rather, it was regret and determination that coloured her thoughts. I couldn't have done anything else. Even to make Robin smile and be happy again. It would have been wrong, unfair. But I'll have to tell him. Somehow. Some things just shouldn't be . . . Secret. Blast it all to the Abyss, why does doing the right thing have to hurt so much? And more, why does it have to hurt others?
Each was so wrapped in their own thoughts that it was almost a surprise when the Supercycle phased in to the Titan Tower's garage, parking itself with a fatigued lurch.
Without a word, Robin slung himself off the cycle and walked into the currently unoccupied complex, paying little obvious attention to the computer message that played as they arrived, informing them that they were to stay put if they got back first, that the Titans were looking for them and would be back soon.
Slowly, the others trailed after him, though all but the boys had the good sense to stop when they reached Nightwing's quarters, hearing the shower going within. Superboy and Impulse stepped into the room, staying just long enough for Kon to pull some clothes from the sleepover bag he'd brought with him and put them on the bed; the shorts and shoes would be a bit large, but, combined with the Gotham Knights T-shirt he rummaged out of Nightwing's drawer, would still be better than the blood-stained remnants of costume that Robin had scattered through the room, left where they'd fallen as he stripped.
Impulse, for a miracle, took a moment longer. Then, with deliberate care, he set down his own burden. A mask and a now-neatly brushed wig joined the clothing. "Just in case. Just in case he wants them."
The sounds of 'shower' still going, the two left the room, rejoining the girls (including Cissie and the now less-groggy Anita) in the common room. Despite his absence, Robin was again the reason for the silence.
It stretched out awfully long, well after the shower sounds eventually stopped. It stretched out until the three resident Titans returned, when it was broken by a gaggle of explanations, all of which Nightwing ignored as soon as he had ascertained his little brother's location, a destination he promptly set off for. Eyes averted, no one else followed.
The door, to Nightwing's intense gratitude, remained unlocked. Not that he couldn't have opened it anyway, of course, but to do so would have been . . . rude. Even if it was his own room. Quietly, he slipped inside, half expecting his little brother to have pulled a repeat of his earlier vanishing act. What he saw was nothing of the sort.
Robin sat huddled in the middle of the floor, barefoot but otherwise clothed, clutching his towel. His back was to the door, but nonetheless his head rose as Nightwing entered. Just like Batman, the older hero thought irrationally, before his attention refocussed on the figure in front of him.
"Robin?" gently, as if soothing an injured wild animal, Nightwing spoke. The boy stirred slightly and he took that as invitation enough to kneel next to his little brother, careful not to touch the other.
"Robin, it's me."
"It won't go away."
"huh?" He asked, intelligently. It certainly wasn't quite what he'd expected to hear.
"The water. From the shower. I towelled it away, but it's still there. I washed all the blood away with water but now the water won't go." Robin turned and his face, framed with still-damp tendrils of hair, was unmasked. And wet.
Tears poured from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks to pool on his chin and drip on the tightly clutched towel.
Nightwing gently took the cloth from the other's fingers.
"Robin, it's not from the shower," he found his voice. "It's tears. You're crying."
"I'm . . .crying? I can't be crying." The suddenly pleasant, emotionless tones of his voice were unnerving, hinting at a far greater trauma than even Nightwing had suspected. "I'm not programmed to cry." Tears are a comfort we are denied, he thought, I couldn't cry for Kaze's first death, scream yes, pound out my anger yes. But I couldn't cry! Why should I cry now? I cannot be crying! Yet the proof, undeniable, rolled down his face to splash over his still-clenched fingers. Kaze! Yuki!
Suddenly he found himself sobbing. Rage and grief and anguish all pouring from him in a torrent of salty water and gasping wails. Dimly he was aware of Nightwing holding him, rocking him gently and whispering soothingly.
After what seemed like an eternity, the emotions gripping him eased slightly, ebbing back to allow darkness to take hold of him, lulling him into sweet oblivion. He took what it offered greedily.
Nightwing sighed as he tucked Robin under the covers on the bed; worn out from grieving, the boy had finally fallen asleep. This isn't what I'd hoped for, bringing him here. He thought, unconsciously echoing Superboy's earlier ruminations. But I'd be lying if I held that it served no purpose; he's getting his emotions back. He's coming back to himself, he's my little brother again! Gently, a smile creased his features as he smoothed the long, dark tangles from the fragile-looking, tearstained face before him. I'm impressed he managed to hide the hair for that long. I guess Alfred helped him do it. It must be pretty important to him, if he'll defy Bruce over it. Mentally, he shook himself. I need to find out what happened when they took off, what caused this development. But now that he **has** regained this ability to cry, I know – somehow – that it's . . . it's going to be okay. It really is going to be okay!
The thought was no small comfort as he went off to find the rest of Young Justice, and with them some answers.
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The answers he found were unpleasant, and as a result of sorting through them, neither he nor anyone else checked on Robin for several hours. When they did peer into the dimly lit room, it was to discover that the Boy Wonder had indeed pulled another of his vanishing acts.
This time, however, it was Secret who found him, and she did so on the roof. He sat silently watching the pre-dawn grey through masked eyes, looking out from under a wig of short-cropped hair.
I guess now's as good a time as any to talk to him, she steeled herself. Sooner's better than later, anyhow.
"Uh . . . hi, Robin." She hesitated, then coalesced into a seating position beside him, intangible but nonetheless there. He said nothing as she joined his vigil, voicing none of the turmoil that had scorched his mind and soul through the long night.
"I . . . needed to talk to you. To tell you something important, and to say I'm so sorry. It's. . . it's about that boy, and the girl."
". . ." Again he said nothing, but she sensed he was listening.
"They . . . well, he was, at least. Trapped, that is. They'd bound his soul into some sort of computer. A really weird one, not like what we use at all. It was like they'd fingerprinted his spirit and copied it. But you can't copy a soul, they're one of a kind. So all they did is trap it, caught in chains of information in this computer. I don't even know if they realised that's what they'd done, that that's what they put into that girl's mind and body." I'm babbling. Talking around what I need to say, around the important stuff! She took a deep breath, somewhat intimidated by the unnatural stillness of the figure beside her. He wasn't looking at her, but every ounce of his posture screamed attention. At least I know he's listening. Oh, this will hurt though.
"He was . . . weakening. And she was staying with him, jeopardising her own passage onwards." Anxiety, and the remembered pain of her choice twisted in her chest. Steeling herself, Secret continued. "So I freed him. From the computer, I mean. And then . . . then I sent them onwards." She looked up wildly, misty tears dampening her eyes as she desperately sought his understanding.
"I had to! Do you see?! I couldn't keep them here! I couldn't make them be . . . be like me, even if only a little, even to make you smile and be as quietly happy as you used to be! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The threatened tears became a gaseous reality as she sobbed into her hands. "I'm so . . . so very sorry!"
His response was so quiet she almost didn't hear it.
"Thank you."
That got her attention.
"I'm sor- Huh?"
"Kaze and Yuki . . . they're special." And trained in mystical techniques I suspect you and I can barely imagine, given their family heritage. "If they wanted to stay, well, a little thing like death wouldn't have stopped them. Didn't stop Yuki, since you say she stayed with Kaze when he was trapped. So once you freed him, even if you tried to send them on, if they'd really wanted – needed – to stay, they would have, especially once Kaze's soul was free of the Doctor's tainting of his mind. They would never have left anything unfinished behind."
He paused, then continued, more to himself than to Secret, whose tears had lapsed into stunned silence. "Kaze kept his promise. And by moving on, by letting go, he showed that I'd kept mine. As well as telling me, he proved it to me."
Finally, Robin turned to face her, a soft smile playing on his lips. Gently, he pulled off his mask and Secret gasped.
The smile, bittersweet but pure, reached his eyes.
A smile not for the dead, but for the living.
"I've survived, as Robin. As myself."
He drew a deep breath.
"I've survived as a human being. Kaze and Yuki will always be with me. No matter what realm their souls are in now, they'll be with me inside."
Tears and smiles. Joy and despair. I have them now, I feel them. I can even show them. I am me again.
In front of them, the golden colours of dawn spread into their full glory, welcomed by the delighted song of a red-breasted robin, and the silent peace of his unfeathered namesake.
A new day had come, and with it hope.
End.
NOTES
Well, no, not really. That's just the end of this fic. At least two more fics set in the Twenty AU are in the works. Even as we speak (type?) they've been plotted, and writing will start soon. As to why Robin appears to have worked through his issues so quickly, the answer is simply . . . he hasn't. Not yet, not in the space of one night. But he's at least made a start, and it's the sense of wonder he's gotten from that that he's communicating to Secret. Further exploration of the themes is plotted into my next fic, but I really hate leaving with an unhappy/angsty ending, so . . . (yes, I do consider this a happy ending. Robin is starting to heal, and become his own person again. This is a good thing.) A great big thank you to Maggie, without whose cheerful encouragement this would likely have taken a fair bit longer, and to Lockheed, for waiting so patiently for a happy ending – more of that to follow, since I've shifted a number of my planned plot-lines to the sequel fic. You guys are great! I would really love C&C on this fic. **goes SD with great big puppy dog eyes.**