Title: My Richard. Part Twelve
Author: Simon
Characters: Dick/OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He's a cop and she's back, darnit.
Warnings: None
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Feedback: Hell, yes.
Thanks again, Jim.
My Richard
Part Twelve Three and a half years ago"Grayson? If I have to talk to you about this again, I'll write you up, you understand me?"
"...Yeah, sure."
"Take care of it, you hear me?"
Nodding, Dick left the main desk and passed through the hallways to the locker room. It was the end of yet another double shift, he was beat and he'd just had his ass chewed by the Lieutenant. On top of that, he had about two and a half hours before he had to start his 'other' patrol. There was a ring of bank robbers loose and his personal goal for the evening was to stop them permanently. And something to eat and a shower would be nice, if he could fit them in.
The problem with the Lieutenant? Oh, just the usual. Laura was always standing outside the main door to the precinct house and he wanted her gone. She never did anything, was never a problem or a disturbance or any of that. She was just always there. He had asked her a couple of times to leave and she always had, returning the next day with a sandwich for him which he'd never accept. The Lieutenant was under the impression, as were all the others, that she was Dick's fiancé or girlfriend or livein or something and they'd had a lover's spat. That was what she hinted to anyone who spoke to her. She was always pleasant, always friendly. No one was buying that Dick was the victim here, that she was nuts.
He had become increasingly insistent that she go, telling her that he'd have her picked up for loitering if she didn't leave him alone, but she'd just smile and move off until the next time.
She was quiet, often reading a book or writing in a journal of some kind, she never left. If Dick was on duty she was there, waiting in front of the building.
The other cops noticed, of course, and asked what his problem was, so he had a fan, he should be flattered. Alright, Dick didn't like her being there, but she hadn't done anything other than smile at him and, much as he didn't want to see her, he rarely had to deal with her. He didn't even use that door, generally coming and going through a rear entrance, closer to where he parked his bike.
Occasionally she would bring in a large box of cookies or brownies or a cake or something along those lines, always making a point of saying that they were for everyone in the place and always being cheerful and polite. Everyone knew she was there to see Officer Grayson, but she never seemed to single him out, other than by the fact that she never took her eyes off of him and if he was assigned to a particular venue or a corner for traffic duty, or something, she would turn up and just smile at him whenever he turned her way.
This was even creepier and more disconcerting than a lot of the other things she'd done—the presents, the fire, the letters—because this seemed so damned benign. It was like waiting for the shoe to drop and the rational part of his mind told him to just talk to her, for God's sake. He should tell her to leave him alone and tell her that if she doesn't, he'll take further action and use the restraining order he'd taken out as soon as she called him after being released from treatment a few months before.
He could do that, he knew he could and it would make absolute sense if he did. Of course it would.
So...?
He knew that it was past time for him to put a stop to this. He did know that and he'd lost enough sleep over it to know it was affecting his day-to-day life yet again—still. He was supposed to be a hero and he was acting like—damnit—as Roy had told him in one of their on going arguments about this—the girl had him completely whipped. What the hell was his problem?
He'd been arresting people since he was nine years old, what was one more?
The story was in his file in case anyone cared to look, thought it seemed like no one had taken the trouble. All of it was there, the stalking, the suspicious fire in the boarding house, the whole fiasco at the wedding, the conviction by reason of insanity—all of it was there. He could stop her with a word or a sentence.
He could.
But—stupid as that was, it would tell Bruce that he'd messed up handling this. Something which should have ended and been put to rest five or more years before was still lingering on. Bruce had enough to deal with now without something like this to worry him as well. He was still recovering from the fallout of his broken back and the whole thing with NML. Alfred was a controlled mess because of everything and, truth be told, Dick wasn't having the most fun he'd ever had in his life, either.
Batman was up to his ass and Dick—shit, Dick couldn't add to that because he'd messed this up. He knew what Bruce would do; he'd come down to the 'Haven and fix it in five minutes and Dick would look like an idiot and feel like a second rate fool.
He just—couldn't. If it was anything else it would be different, but this was personal because it involved Dick Grayson, not Nightwing. It didn't have anything to do with any others in the business.
It was just—different, and he convinced himself that when you came down to it, it really only affected him. Bruce was out of the loop, Alfred was ignorant about what was going on and Barbara was safe, so it was his problem. No one else's. Not any more,anyway.
He and Kory limped along for a few months after the failed wedding and then called it quits with a lot of sadness and regrets on both their parts. Months after that, Dick and Barbara started connecting beyond the good friends they had been for over ten years, but that was still bumpy. Dick completely loved her and he believed that she loved him, but she was using that fucking chair as an excuse not to get closer. She was reluctant to move forward and they were both frustrated and a bit angry over the stall in their relationship. Dick had told her a hundred times that the chair didn't matter; Barbara would look at him and just smile. It was like when he was ten years old and she was showing him why his math was wrong. He felt patronized and like his genuine feelings were being trivialized and lost in Barbara's self defenses.
He hated it and the last thing he needed was the added monkey wrench of a crazy lurking around to give Babs more reason to back off.
And Laura was being weird, too—weird even for her, that is. Dick thought he had a handle on her various shades of insane, but this was something new. There were no letters or presents left at his door or the station. She rarely even talked to him other than the most minor comments about the weather or something.
It was like she had moved into a new phase and he knew she would blow up soon. That was the pattern, a period of relative calm and then something big would happen. He knew enough about her to know her cycles. She was building up to something.
He tried to talk to the Captain about it several times, but the man was always out with the flu or in a meeting or on vacation. He tried to talk to the Lieutenant, but the man refused to take it seriously, even after seeing the record. "A little girl like that scaring you, Grayson? You want someone to hold your hand to cross the street, too? She's all better; you can see that, just look at her out there. Cut her some slack, will ya?"
"I want to bring her in for violation of..."
"I said cut her some slack, now drop it." Stupid and corrupt, the man was beyond useless. "Oh, and don't try any of your tricks, Grayson. You go over my head or behind my back, your ass is grass. You understand me?"
"Did you look at the record? She's..."
"She had a problem, got treatment and now she's better. Accept it, boy. How long you been with the force? Eight months? You been here twenty years, come back and talk to me." He turned his attention back to his paperwork. "You know, something? That little girl of yours is the spitting image of my little Mary. You put the two of them next to each other and they'd pass for sisters." He took one of Laura's brownies and ate it in one bite. "What's the matter, Grayson? You don't like girls now?"
Oh yeah.
The other cops had taken to saying hello to her, asking her how she was doing today and if she was alright. They'd chat when they had the time and she admitted to some of them that she and Richard—Officer Grayson, she meant and would blush prettily—were old friends and she just knew he was a big help to them. She was so proud of him, everyone was so proud and he was always so much fun to have around. She would hint that one of these days soon they'd be tying the knot and they'd laugh and tell her that if they had her to come home to they wouldn't be stopping for beer on the way.
Sometimes the other cops wives would come to pick them up or drop the men off and Laura struck up friendships with a couple of them as well. They would commiserate about how hard it was being married to a cop, the long hours and the constant worry.
They asked Laura if maybe she and Dick would like to come to a cookout at someone's house or to dinner on Saturday with a few of the other couples in the group. They could play cards and socialize. It would be fun. Laura would always thank them and then imply, without really saying, that Dick just liked to relax when he got home and she understood that. Maybe when he'd been on the force longer he'd be able to unwind a little easier. Maybe after they were married he'd be more willing to go out with other people.
It got to the point where the other officers would tell her that Dick was changing and would be out in a few minutes or that he had to work a double today, so she might as well go home and wait for him there. She always thanked them.
She seemed like such a sweet girl, Grayson was a lucky man.
One day Dick was in the locker room, wearing a towel around his waist from a quick shower and changing into his regular clothes when Tom came over. "So what's the deal with that girl? You make a conquest or did you do her wrong? Or both?"
Dick just shook his head. He'd just been told, yet again, that he wasn't to bother her if she wasn't a direct problem. Jesus H. fucking Christ on a bike. He'd told the Lieutenant that she was a problem, he'd shown the man the court records and he still just didn't get it. Now he was being ordered to leave her alone? Christ.
Tom wasn't an idiot. "Right. She stalking you? How long has this been going on?"
Dick hesitated. They had tried to seal the records when she was sent into custody a couple of years ago but couldn't since she wasn't a minor. There had been a gag order on the press, but Smoking Gun had found the case and it was on the net. Luckily, not that many people made the connection and it was yesterday's news. The story had died out, thank God. "I'm taking care of it."
"That's not what I asked. This has been going on for a while, hasn't it?"
Dick looked around; a couple of the other guys were about ten feet away changing into their civvies as well. The whole thing was getting to him and so he did something he'd never done before, probably never in his whole life with a civilian. "Look, you have a little time? You want to get a beer?" He really wanted to just talk to someone and Tom was a friend. He could tell him enough of the story and as a cop he'd get it.
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in a booth at Hogan's Alley, two blocks from the station, having gone out a back door to avoid Laura. Dick's bike was still in the precinct lot, she wouldn't know he had left the building. The waitress brought them a couple of Lowenbrau's and took their steak orders. Dick would pick up the tab; it was he least he could do.
"So, what's the deal? You know who she is or did she just appear?"
"Her name's Laura Woodward, I knew her in high school. We dated for a year or so then she started—things started getting weird." Dick told him the bare bones of the story, how she had become possessive, he'd tried to break up, her suicide attempt, how the Woodward's had moved after that. Things had been fairly quiet then, except for the letters that he hadn't told anyone about—he was a kid, he thought he could handle it. He didn't want to upset people. It was a common story as far as these things went. He went into how she had shown up at Hudson, how his rooming house had burned and though she had been strongly suspected, nothing could be proven. Then he, with much hesitation, told Tom about how she had disapproved—to understate things—his wedding to another woman (he didn't give names) and had planted a bomb under the altar.
There had been a trial where Laura was found guilty by reason of insanity and remanded to a psychiatric facility. Obviously, she was now out and he'd been seeing her around for a few weeks, though there had been little actual contact other than her hanging around the station.
He also said he expected that she would try something eventually, though he didn't know what. Dick warned his new girlfriend, Barbara, to be careful and had made some security improvements to both her apartment and his own. He'd been basically ordered by the higher ups to do nothing, despite his showing them her record and telling them his belief that she was a danger to herself and others. They seemed to think a cute blonde who brought them cookies couldn't be a problem.
Idiots.
"You know that she won't just disappear. Do you think that your talking to her will make a dent?"
Dick shook his head. "I told her when we were fifteen that it was over and she didn't believe me then. I've been telling her to get lost ever since and even when she's seen me with other girlfriends—even when I was going to get married—she just blew past it." He took a drink of his beer, a long pull. "I testified against her in court and she thought that I was just upset with her because she wanted to get married and I didn't. She's not really all that closely in touch with reality."
"Restraining order?"
"Yeah, I have one, but you know as well as I do they don't mean shit. The most it can do is to allow me to arrest her if she violates it."
"It's something, anyway, and isn't she in violation now?"
"Sure, but I've been ordered not to do anything."
Tom paused with his steak. "The Lieutenant is a moron, you know you have to tell the Captain, right? She could be a threat and that means it involves the force. You get killed, we have a hole in the line." He saw the look he got. "Sorry. Small joke. You have to tell him, though."
"I know. I'm trying, but I can't get in to see him. I just want to try one last thing. He's not going to be back until Monday anyway, I may as well take a shot." He wanted to actually try talking to her, useless as it would probably be. He hadn't done that since—well since he was in school. All he'd done since then was avoid her, blow her off, tell her to get lost and testify against her. Maybe if they actually talked it would make a difference this time. And maybe it would snow in August, too.
She was nuts, insane, crazy, but she claimed to love him—screwed up as that was. She might agree to do what he asked...about the same time it rained up.
The worst that could happen would be that—no. The worst that would happen would be that he'd cause her to ratchet things up again and he thought of the old joke, 'don't shoot her, you'll just make her mad'.
Besides, she had hinted pretty strongly in that last letter, the one that finally caught up with him two days ago (and six months after it was mailed) about her getting out of the sanatorium, that she had made the connection between Dick Grayson and Robin and Nightwing. And if she had, then she knew about Bruce and probably about the Titans, as well.
If she had, it needed to be contained and he didn't want that to come out when she was in some holding cell.
The two men finished their dinner, Dick paid the bill as he'd planned and they walked back to the station to get their vehicles. Laura was still waiting out front. Dick said goodnight to Tom and walked over to her. She didn't seem surprised to see him approach. It was like she had expected it and was just waiting for it to happen.
"Hello, Laura. Were you waiting for me?"
She smiled at him, almost a little shy. "You know I've been waiting for years now. Have you made up your mind yet?"
Of course. "Well, I think that we should talk about that."
"Here?" She looked around. It was a grimy city sidewalk with litter blowing along and dirty water in the gutters. "We'd be more comfortable somewhere else."
He took a breath and spoke conversationally. "This isn't going to happen, Laura. You and me, it isn't. We used to go out a long time ago, but I've moved on. I'm with someone else now and you need to understand that."
"That won't last. You mean that girl in the wheelchair? She's not good enough for you, Richard. You should be with someone who can do all the things you like to do—ski and run and all of that. You'll resent her soon when you have to do all those things alone."
"I'm in love with her and it's time for you to leave me alone now."
She smiled at him like he simply didn't understand a basic truth. "It won't last and I'll wait."
"Laura, I want you to leave me alone and I want you to leave my girlfriend alone as well. If you keep hanging around here, I'll have you brought in for violating the restraining order. Do you understand what I'm saying? You'll be sent to jail."
She smiled again. Richard could be so stern and serious sometimes, but he was such a sweetheart she could forgive him anything. Well, she was distracting him from his work by being here, and she didn't want to do that. If he saw her standing here, then he'd be thinking about her all day, just like she was thinking about him and then maybe he could get hurt.
"Whatever you want." Reaching up she kissed his cheek. Picking up her bag she smiled at him again, turned and walked to the bus stop.
That was it?
That was all he had to do?
Not frigging likely.
He watched to make sure she got on a bus he knew went nowhere near either his place or a connection to anything which could get her to Barbara's, then took out his cell phone. After a quick check to get the right number, the phone was ringing at the Woodwards' home in a suburb of Chicago.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Woodward? This is Di—Richard Grayson in Bludhaven. I'm sorry to call you like this, but I was just speaking with Laura and I need to know if you could tell me anything about her which might be helpful to me."
"...Laura's in Bludhaven? I—we thought that she was up in Boston at school." Dick heard some talking in the background; obviously Lynn Woodward was getting in on the conversation. There was some back and forth. "After she was released, she said she wanted to continue her education and we took her to her dorm ourselves. We've been getting letters from there—are you sure you're not mistaken?"
"I just spoke to her face-to-face a few minutes ago and she's been hanging around the place I work for a couple of months now."
"Has she done anything—um—well, you know. Has she done anything?"
"Other than loitering here and tailing me, no, not yet. Is she still in treatment or on medication?"
"Of course. That was one of the conditions of her release."
Great, right. And no one was checking on her. Why the fuck hadn't these people had her declared incompetent and become her guardians or something? Christ.
"Would it be possible for one of you, or perhaps a friend to come get her? I don't want to have her arrested tomorrow but I will if she doesn't leave me alone."
There was some more background talk. "Of course, we'll be there as soon as we can get there. Where is she?"
"I work at Precinct #37, Bludhaven PD. You can get me through them and she's been hanging around the station house whenever I'm on duty. She's not hard to find."
"We'll be there tomorrow, the earliest flight we can get."
"Good."
"But she promised us that she'd stay at school. She seemed so determined this time to really get better."
"I know, but—we have to go, you know that. He said he'd arrest her and he works in a police station, for God's sake. We have to bring her home."
"What the hell is someone like Richard doing as a cop in that horrible place? With all the resources and the advantages he was brought up with you'd have thought that he'd make something of himself."
"You know how kids are. It's probably just a 'fuck you' to Wayne or something."
"Now, John; I never thought Richard was the type for that. He was so well brought up. And Laura has caused some problems for him."
"The child is unwell and they know that, you'd think that they could be a little sympathetic to the child for God's sake. Well, Wayne can be a pretty hard assed bastard when he sets his mind to it. Maybe Richard finally just had enough of it—either that or he's learned from the master."
"Or maybe he's still trying to get over his parents' deaths or it's a phase or something. It could be something like that, you know. God, my poor baby. I really thought that this time she was over him."
Half an hour later he was outside of the Clocktower, Barbara pushing the clearance that would let him in.
"Hey, I didn't expect to see you tonight. You miss me that much?" She hugged him as well as she could from the chair.
He had a feeling that Barbara shouldn't be alone tonight, even if she did have the best security in the world. "You know I always miss you."
She pulled back from the hug. "What's going on? You told me that you had work and then you'd be patrolling tonight, remember? Something about bank robbers?"
"I changed my mind."
"You never change your mind, now what's going on?"
"Jesus, woman, I come over to see my girlfriend and I'm committing a damn crime. I can leave if you want, I mean if you'd rather be alone. I can go any time. If you really want to spend the evening alone, sleep in that big bed all by yourself, I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem...wouldn't want to force you to do anything you're uncomfortable with or anything."
"No hidden agenda? I know you, you never just drop in for the night—oh, God, what am I saying here?"
Dick picked her up and was about to carry her to the bedroom when she quietly asked him to take her into the bathroom first so they wouldn't have to be interrupted later. While he waited for her he casually picked up a copy of Newsweek and saw the letter beneath it.
It was handwritten on pink linen paper.
Shit.
"You leave him alone, you hear me?
Richard is mine—you got that? MINE.
You think he's with you? You think he loves you? Bull. He loves me and all the nights he's not staying in there with you because he feels sorry for you, he's with me.
Amazing what people will do when pity comes into it, no? Have you thought about who else would have you? I mean, other than as a charity case?
No one, that's who.
The words 'pity fuck' mean anything to you?
He's with me and I do things for him you can't and you never will, you understand me, bitch?
WE do things that you haven't been able to do since you got shot and what was it—raped? How many times do you think he's thought it's just a shame you're still breathing?
Been dancing lately, have you?
How about a nice bike ride or—better yet, how about a spin on his motorcycle? Maybe a nice jog in the park would be fun.
I mean, how do you feel everyday when you get up? Can you even do that? Do you need someone to get you out of bed and get you dressed and all the rest? You think Richard won't get tired of that?
You think he won't want a real woman? One who's whole and not a cripple like you?
Can you give him children? He wants them, you know. You can't, can you? You'll never be able to give him what he wants and you sure can't give him what he needs.
And you're old—you know that? You know how old Richard is? He's twenty-two. You're, what? Thirty?
Even if you weren't a gimp, you'd be too old for him and he knows that, too.
Let's recap, shall we? You're too old, you can't give Richard the children he wants and you can't share all the things he likes to do like skiing and gymnastics because you're a cripple.
Do him—and yourself a favor, bitch, leave him alone.
You're pathetic and everyone knows it. They see you with someone like Richard and they know it's because no one else will have you. They feel sorry for you just like he does.
The only way you ever got him was to give it away, right?
Look in the mirror, why don't you and then look at him.
Let's just compare.
Oh, and let's not even get into how easy it would be for someone like you to have an accident, shall we?
We wouldn't want to think about that, now, would we?
There was more on this page and there was a stack of several dozen more letters under this one. Like the letters to Dick, they all basically said the same thing.
God, how long had Barbara been getting these things? Why hadn't she said something? Jesus.
She called him from the bathroom and he went to get her but instead of depositing her on the bed as she expected, he brought her out to the living room and sat her on the couch next to him.
"You should have told me." He put his jacket back on and got Barbara's out of the closet, wheeled her chair from where she'd left it, picked her up again and put her in it.
"Dick, where are we going?" She saw the letters sitting out. "Oh, for God's sake, this is ridiculous, there was no point. It would have just upset you and there isn't anything she can do to me. You know that she can't get in here and I'm fine."
"Bullshit, Barbara. You should have told me—you have no right not letting me know about this. None."
"Like you told anyone and this has been going on since—when? You were in high school? This is me, Dick. I push a button and the entire Justice League is at my door. I'm not the one in danger here."
He was as angry as she'd ever seen him, and that was going some. For a person basically completely good natured, he owned a hell of a temper. "This is my problem and you know that and if she's now involved you, then I have a right to know about it."
"Damnit, the real question is why didn't you tell any of us that this idiot is back again and how long has this been going on now this time?" He had her over to the elevator, obviously angry, though with her or himself or Laura she had no idea. "Where are we going?"
He was mad at everyone by now. Fed up. He'd had it.
"Someplace you'll be safe."
"Dick, I was perfectly safe in my own home and why the sudden concern? Will you stop pushing this chair? I thought we were going to stay here so you could protect me, for God's sake."
Down in the street, he got her keys from her pocket, opened her van and tried to get her into position against her will.
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me about those letters?" He was more than just angry, he was scared and she hadn't seen that since he was about twelve years old. "And how long have you been receiving them?"
"I wasn't in any danger and there was no reason to upset you..." She put on her hand brake to slow him from loading her into the van. "A few months, maybe five or six, something like that. Will you stop? I want to stay in my own home, there's no reason..."
"How the hell can you say that? No reason? She burned down the damn boarding house, she blew up my almost wedding—no reason? Jesus, and you just assumed that the protection fairy would just fly around you forever? I'm taking you to the Manor, you'll be safe there and you can still work on Bruce's equipment." He released her brake himself but she rolled backwards a good twenty yards while he was lowering the lift, away from him and down towards her own door. "Barb? C'mon, will you? Just do this. For me?"
He turned to get her and had taken the first step when the blast caught him.
The van exploded in a fireball.
TBC
24
