Title: My Richard. Part Fourteen
Author: Simon
Characters: Dick/OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: around and around she goes and where she stops...?
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 Fourteen
Present Day
"My Richard,
I was just released from the treatment center today and I feel so much better. When I come to visit you, you'll see how much better I am now than I was.
You'll be so proud of me!..."
So Laura was out of the treatment facility and was back. Were these people complete idiots? Had they gotten their training from a number on the back of a book of matches?
She had been released and almost the first thing she does is contact her former victim.
Well, screw this and the horse it rode in on.
Dick called Laura's probation officer and reported the violation as well as his best guess of where she could be found. He'd been keeping track and knew she was still in touch with that old friend of hers, Becca, the one she'd stayed with while he was a student at Hudson—back when she'd burned down the boarding house. It seemed that Becca was now a buyer at one of Gotham's department stores, less than half an hour from Bludhaven and had a two-bedroom place overlooking the river. Yes, he'd checked, Laura was staying with her.
He'd gone through every place he could think of to find the letters she insisted she had for the media—the letters that would supposedly tell the world everyone's identity. The letters, which would let anyone who cared about it in on the fact that he was Nightwing, his friends were the Titans, where they all lived and that Bruce Wayne was Batman.
He hadn't found them.
He'd checked the files and hard drives of every computer he thought she might have contact with, he'd looked through every nook and cranny he could think of for the damn pink envelopes—every drawer, every box, every closet, everywhere. He'd accessed what he could of safe deposit box accounts in every bank in Gotham, Bludhaven, Chicago, Boston, and up near Hudson U. He'd searched her parents' home and that of her brother.
He came up empty.
He considered the possibility that the letters might not exist but discounted it. She knew who he was, she'd figured it out and she felt betrayed enough to use the information against him and his friends.
The three years since she'd been remanded back to remedial therapy hadn't been easy for either Dick or his friends. Yes, he had slowly come out of the fog of depression and self-accusations of having handled the situation badly and having taken on all the blame, but he still had the possibility of Nightwing being forced into retirement by the badly broken leg to contend with.
That particular monkey was on his back for almost two years.
There had been months of physical therapy and a second operation to attempt to repair the tendons after the first surgery had failed to reattach them. The second try was a success, but it was still over a year before he was anywhere near back to his former level of movement and strength and he'd permanently lost a degree of mobility which would remind him of what he termed his own militant stupidity.
However, Nightwing was back and no one was the wiser—other than Dick himself when the leg hurt him from a hard landing or wouldn't move quite as fast as it used to or as high or as far.
There were still nights when he'd be with Barbara and let her hold him because sometimes that was the only thing that seemed to work.
That he and Barbara were mostly back on track, he credited that with a large part of his mental and emotional recovery. She was a safe haven for him.
He would go to the Clocktower for dinner or after a late patrol and know he was welcome. There was still some hesitation on her part, but it seemed to be lessening more and more as time went by and he was encouraged enough to think that he might have finally found the solution to that part of his life.
"I can't wait to see you, I really can't. I know how you don't like me to visit you at work, so you don't have to worry about that. I won't.
Do you want to meet at that cute little place we used to go to? The little Italian place over by the river with that sweet terrace overlooking the water? I know how you love Italian food.
Say Tuesday at one? Would that be good for you? I know you have your police schedule, but this is so special, maybe you could get off just this once?"
He had been promoted to Sergeant in Bludhaven, transferred to a different precinct and from general police work to Violent Crimes. He was being tracked to become a detective and was proud of himself on that front. The corruption would likely never be completely eliminated, but he—and Nightwing—had made a very large impact on the ethics of the BPD and things that had been commonplace a few years ago were becoming rare. A lot of the old timers had been strongly pushed into early retirement and the new cops coming in were a different breed.
He felt like he'd made a difference and once even Bruce told him that he was pleased with how things were coming along down in the Haven. That was high praise and he took it as such.
Bruce. They still had good days and bad ones, but the good seemed to be outnumbering the bad and Alfred said that the Master was relieved and proud that the long estrangement was largely behind them.
Over with the Outsiders, things were also coming along though there were changes. Garth largely left the group because of politics in Atlantis and demands from his wife and son, though none of his old friends really expected the marriage to last. Dick tried to stay in touch, but it was hard because of the distance—both geographical and political. Roy had mellowed with the birth of his daughter and actually enjoyed being a father; something Dick would never have suspected. Wally's marriage had broken up and he spent most of his time with the JLA. And Donna, well, Donna was killed in the line of duty and it hurt Dick too much to think about her so he tried not to, failing too often.
The new members would work out. They were young and needed seasoning, but they'd get there.
It was all mostly pretty good.
Except for the letters in the pink envelops which had started again.
"I've been so worried about your poor leg. That night when you got hurt was awful—I've never seen anything so horrible and there was so much blood and you were in pain. I hope I never have to see you like that ever again—all hurt and you were even unconscious.
It's better, isn't it?
I was so frightened and that other girl, that gimp girl was just sitting there not doing anything to help.
I hate her.
You could have been dying and she wouldn't have done anything."
"You're an idiot if you don't stop this bitch. I'm telling you, man. You gotta put a lid on this broad.""Thank you Roy, for your latest attempt at PC."
"Screw PC and, speaking of that, you're the one who's going to get screwed if you don't deal with this and I don't mean that in a positive, life affirming way, either"
Dick gave him a bored look. He and Roy were hanging in Dick's apartment in the Haven, the pizza was mostly eaten and they were halfway through their second six-pack. It was well past midnight and neither one was feeling any pain.
"I am dealing with it. Drop it."
"Bullshit, you are. You tried—and failed—to find the letters. You called in and had her arrested because of a restraining order violation and she was out of jail in three days. Have you even told Barbara that Madam Nutcase is out again? Does Bruce know?"
Silence.
"Jesus, you jackass—you haven't, have you? What the fuck are you waiting for this time; an engraved invitation on pink paper?"
"I'm not waiting for anything. I've strengthened the security at the Clocktower again."
"And Barbara wasn't suspicious? This is a smart person you're talking about here, junior. She's not going to buy that you were just changing the screens for her."
"She knows that Laura is out and she also knows that I'm taking care of it."
"And Bruce? Alfred? Jim Gordon? Y'know, your father-in-law might be a little concerned."
"Bruce is in Japan for that merger, Jim—who is not my father-in-law..."
"Yet."
"... Has been copied on everything about the case and Alfred is fine."
Roy popped another can open, handed it to Dick, opened another for himself and they tapped cans together in a toast. "Okay, then."
"Okay."
They finished the second pack of beer and made a good dent in the third when they both fell asleep. Or passed out. By two the next afternoon when the knocking at the door woke him up, Roy's mouth tasted like a sewer and he was hung over. "Grayson. Get the door."
Nothing. "Hey, Grayson, you have company." Silence. "Christ, Dick, get your ass out of bed, will you?" Still nothing but the continuing, way-too-loud knocking.
Reluctantly, rubbing the crap out of his eyes and hoping to hell at Dick had legal drugs in his medicine cabinet, Roy pulled himself up and over to the front door, opening it enough to look out.
"You think I'm bluffing about those letters? You're stupid if you think that.
I'm not a liar.
You are, but I'm not.
The letters are all ready to go, they even have stamps on them."
"Yeah?"
Small, blonde, pretty and way the hell too cheerful.
"Hi, is Richard here?"
Richard? Who the hell called Dick 'Richard'? "Hey, Dick? You up?" No answer. "I guess he's still sleeping. You want to leave a message or something?"
"Well, could I come in? He's expecting me and I promised him I'd stop by when I got the chance. We're old friends." She gave Roy a closer look, still smiling. "I'm Laura. Have we met?"
He took a closer look at her. Now that she mentioned it—Holy fuck, but, "Nah, I don't think so. I would have remembered you. Uh, I'm Roy." He stepped aside to let her in. Dick would want to know about this. He'd want to talk to her as soon as possible—like yesterday. "I'll see if I can get him up. Come on in, make yourself comfortable."
He went into Dick's room, but the unmade bed was empty as was the bathroom. Finally he found the scrawled note on the cluttered kitchen counter.
"Had to go in to work. Help yourself to anything. Later. D"
The girl was at his side reading the note. "That's alright. I have some things I can do here anyway while I'm waiting for him." Roy gave her a questioning look. "Really, it's okay. Richard and I are friends. Why don't you go get cleaned up and I'll be just fine."
Like he was about to leave her alone, but... "I have to call my wife, I'll just be a minute."
She smiled again—still. "Sure, no problem. Hey, are you sure we've never met?"
"I'm sure. Di—right, Richard has a couple of friends named 'Roy'. I'm the other one." She nodded, accepting and probably not thinking him important enough to bother about.
He went to the bedroom, leaving the door ajar so he could keep an eye on her. Taking his cell out, he was relieved to see it still had a charge and hit his address book, pushing phone number eight on the list.
"Grayson."
"Good morning, you have a visitor, Richard."
"Roy? What the fuck are you talking...? Oh, crap—are you shitting me? Where?"
"Your place. You want me to entertain her for you?"
"I'll be there in twenty. Keep her there."
He ran the water in the bathroom sink for a minute and flushed the toilet so she'd think he was doing normal stuff, then downed a couple of extra strength Tylenols before going out. Back to the main room she was in the middle of cleaning the mess they'd made the night before.
"Richard is such a sweetheart, but he's the worst slob! I swear, I can never get that man to pick up after himself." She was dumping the many beer empties into the recycling and throwing out the congealed pizza, putting the boxes into the trash. "I know you two had a good time, but he really shouldn't drink—and all this pizza? I mean, can you imagine him with a beer belly? Yuck!" She laughed at the thought. "Are you two close friends?"
"Brothers, since we were eleven."
Dick Grayson without his six pack and not the kind you get at the liquor store? Like that would ever happen. The man was born with those abs, for Christ's sake.
"You and Di—Richard are pretty close, I take it?"
She blushed prettily, eyes lowered. "Well, you know."
He nodded, of course. "Have you known him long?"
She was still tidying up, straightening throw pillows, refolding the afghan that lived on the back of the sofa. "Since high school. We went steady all through and—God, this is embarrassing, we were the Prom King and Queen. They took pictures for the yearbook and everything." She started on the dishes in the sink, loading the dishwasher as she kept talking. "I probably shouldn't even tell you, but that was the night we first—you know. The first time we did it." She was lost in the beauty of the memory for a few moments. "He was so wonderful."
Dick didn't go to his prom. That was the week they had to go to Japan to help fight the Fearsome Five.
Finished with the dishes and wiping down the counters, she moved into the bedroom. "I don't think Richard has made a single bed since I've known him—first his mother did it for him, then Alfred and now I guess I have the job. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows how to do laundry—he's like a big baby sometimes with these things!"
In fact Dick could run a washer as well as anyone. He was just a little busy, what with two jobs and the Outsiders, plus Barbara to keep happy. He was also capable of loading a dishwasher or making his bed. He usually didn't bother.
Laura's eyes landed on the framed photo of Dick and Babs taken last Christmas over at the Manor. They were together on the couch in the living room with a corner of the tree behind them. She was sitting on his lap; their arms were around each other and the both of them looked completely relaxed, at ease, and so damn happy. No, more than just happy; they looked content.
"That's his sister. He takes care of her sometimes."
That surprised even Roy. "Di—sorry, Richard is an only child."
"No he isn't. That's his sister. He told me so himself."
Oh boy. Whatever.
"Right. Have you met her? If you're with him, you must know her."
"Oh sure. She's great." The bed wasn't just made; she stripped it, put the linens in the bathroom hamper and dug a fresh set of sheets out of the closet. "Purple, lime green and pink paisley sheets? What was he thinking?"
They'd been a joke gift a few of years ago from Donna and Terry—when they were still together. Before they both died. After hearing Alfred's pronouncement that anything other than pure white bedding was vulgar, they had gone out of their way to outfit Dick's bed with the ugliest sheets they could find. They were amazingly awful and came with Donna's guarantee that they would impress any overnight guests.
"Hey Roy? Is Richard's leg better? I mean after he broke it a couple of years ago falling off his motorcycle I was so worried. He's alright, isn't he?"
"He's fine." After two operations and almost two years of PT, yeah, he's just dandy, you bitch. And he didn't fall off his bike; you blew it up along with the van. Anyone else would probably still be on crutches, but Dick pulled off a full recovery by working harder and longer than anyone thought possible.
The front door opened and Dick walked in wearing his police uniform and his Nightwing expression. Roy went out to meet him. "She's in the bedroom and she's, um, she thinks..."
"That we're an item. Yeah, I know."
The two men walked into the other room just as Laura finished fluffing the pillows and put them up by the headboard.
"Laura, you're not supposed to be here, you know that."
"You aren't still mad about that little thing with that van, are you? Your friend here told me that your leg is all better and everything." She was hugging him, hard. "You smell so good, you always smell so good and you feel so strong." She reached up and kissed his cheek.
"I'm arresting you for violating the restraining order again." There were two other cops in the living room now.
"Oh, Richard. You don't mean that."
"Take her down to the car, I'll be right there." He nodded to the other two officers who handcuffed her and started to lead her out.
"Richard? You remember those letters? I mailed them this morning."
She was led out.
Roy caught his arm. "Those letters?"
"I'll close now because I want you to get this really soon.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Yours forever,
Laura
"She's been threatening me with these supposed letters to the press about everyone's secret identity."
Roy stared at him. "And...?"
"And I think she's bluffing."
"You think? You're not sure? If she's figured it out then Bruce is busted and the Titans, Outsiders, whatever—Jesus. This could be..."
"A mess. I know. But I think she's bullshitting."
"Christ, Dick, if you're wrong..."
"It'll be fine. Why don't you take a shower or something? I'm going to swing over to Barbara's and let her know what's going on then I have to get back to the station."
Roy couldn't believe the nonchalance. "Thanks, but I have to get back to check on Lian."
He found his shoes. "Man, if you're wrong..."
"Don't worry about it, Roy."
They were lying in her bed together. It was post sex and they were at the stage of just coasting on the feelings, both physical end emotional. Or Dick was, anyway. He'd get back to the station soon enough, an hour more or less wouldn't make that much difference. It wasn't like he'd ever done it before or was about to make a habit out of it, but just this once.
"I absolutely can't believe you're not doing anything about this. If she really mailed those letters then we're all in trouble, are you not getting this for some reason?"
"She didn't mail any letters." He tried to rekindle the mood by stroking her arm, her side and anything else in reach he knew she could feel. He didn't succeed.
"And you know this because you've gone postal now?"
"Smart ass. I know this because I spoke to her friend, Becca, and Becca took the letters out of Laura's purse and replaced them with blank paper in her pink envelopes. I have the real letters here."
"And if she made copies?"
"She didn't."
"And you know this because—Jesus, Dick, what are we playing here? Twenty questions?"
"She spent most of last night writing the letters. Becca was concerned about what she was doing so when Laura fell asleep, she called me and made the switch. There are no copies and Laura has no reason to believe that she mailed blanks."
"And I take it you've been in touch with this Becca person since...?"
"Since Hudson."
"Of course."
"But she obviously read them and if there's information that..."
"It's fine."
"Dick, how can you say that? The things Laura was threatening..."
"Barbara—it's fine. It's alright. Change the subject."
"Really?"
"Really."
She kissed him again, tightening her arms around him. He had planned to just stop in to make sure Babs was alright, he really had, but, well, hell. They hadn't seen each other in almost a week and he was tense and she was glad to see him...the mood was returning, at least for Dick.
"So this is the end of it?"
He hesitated a second. She knew what that meant. "She'll be evaluated by the shrinks, but she's smart enough to work the system. She'll be out pretty fast—maybe a week or two, a month at the most."
He could feel that she was upset by that. This had gone on too long. "And so she'll be back? What are we supposed to do? Just keep going in circles?"
"It'll end."
"How?"
"It will."
TBC
19
