A/N: I'd like to thank Tristripe for challenging me to write some more descriptions into the story. It's something I rarely think about. If you don't want to know this little tidbit about me, skip to the next paragraph. I'm visually impaired, so I don't think in terms of setting often. But Tristripe is right: setting can be really helpful sometimes. So thank you.
Anyway, the battles are coming soon, but not in this chapter. As the title says, this chapter is all about planning for the big battles. And, just between you and me, I'm scared for Riche and Virgil.
Fresh Warnings: language (Richie), a little stronger than last time; non-con (sort of) and general creepiness. Read at your own risk!
Chapter Four: Plotting
Hotstreak was sick of the common room; its stench, its closeness, and of course its noise infuriated him. Four cement walls and a cement floor amplified the sounds until each was like a pin sticking in his ear. He was sick of watching Kangor and Hyde wrestle. He was sick of Ferret and Carmen Dillo circling the open pizza box, each trying to throw the other off so he could have the four soggy pieces inside all to himself. But more than all that, Hotstreak was sick of his own confused feelings.
I feel just a little like a dog licking the hand of the master that beats it. Hotstreak hated it when he felt less than superior, but what could he do? I could decide not to show my trophy to Ebon. Or I could let him know that Richie Foley, the object of his lustful worship, is also Gear, his heart's desire. That would clear a lot of things up for Ebon, and he would be better able to plan his trap for Static, a trap that has to come soon. Ebon is having more and more trouble keeping us all quiet. And I don't just mean the Meta Breed. No, it's not enough for Ebon to order us around. He had to make sure no other meta-humans would be causing trouble. Static has to think we've all gone underground. Hotstreak shook his head. Even if Ebon doesn't know that Richie Foley is Gear, he should have enough sense to know that Gear is too smart to let Static fall for something like that. I mean, I'm not the boss here, but I get that. Of course, Ebon's a moron and everybody knows it except Ferret, Shiv, and just possibly Ebon himself.
Hotstreak rose without the usual snarl or grunt that escaped his lips when he was frustrated. He didn't want anyone to notice where he was going. When he was standing in the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. Kangor and Hyde were getting a little more violent; blood would be spilled soon. Ferret and Carmen were both drooling. Hotstreak's lip twisted. They're part of the reason the Meta-Breed isn't running this city. Of course, they weren't the only reason, but Hotstreak wasn't in the mood to give Static and his partner (not to mention that stupid rubber guy) any credit.
He ambled into the small room off the common room, doing his best to look casual just in case he was noticed. Here Ebon kept a buzzer that was connected to the room that only he could reach. Telling himself that he would be rewarded for the picture, that he was being a wuss for not immediately leaping on the opportunity, Hotstreak jammed the buzzer down. I've been holding this picture for two days. It's time.
Ebon phased out of the wall. "What is it?"
Hotstreak sneered. Ebon's dismissive why-the-hell-are-you-disturbing-me tone pissed him off. "I'm not your bellboy, Ebon. I've got a proposition for you. So show me a little respect. Believe me; you're going to want this."
Ebon folded his arms. "I'm listening."
Hotstreak shook his head. "I want to talk about this someplace private."
Ebon grabbed him and moved towards the wall. "You want private? You got it."
Hotstreak wanted to protest- he didn't want to be on Ebon's own turf when they discussed this little agreement- but Ebon was already fusing with the wall and Hotstreak had no choice but to go with him.
Just being picked up and taken like any normal human enraged Hotstreak, and he was glad for the anger. It was a familiar ally. The moment Ebon deposited him inside his room, Hotstreak yanked the picture from his pocket and snapped, "I'll burn this right here if you don't start treating me right."
Ebon folded his arms, his silent answer to anyone who challenged him. "And what is it, exactly? Why do I need it?"
"It's about Foley. The whore you want."
Damn it, Ebon thought, I didn't know I was that obvious. I don't' need a piece of scum like Hotstreak knowing what turns me on. "The kid that's always hanging around Static? What about him?"
Hotstreak waved the picture. "I've got a little something that will help you sleep at night." I sound like a pimp. Can't be helped.
Ebon was getting impatient. "Let me see it."
Hotstreak kept it out of his reach. "It's a picture of Foley. A really good picture. Trust me; you're going to enjoy this. But I want something in return."
Don't you all? Ebon's scowl couldn't be seen, but some of what he was thinking must have shown in his eyes because Hotstreak took a half step back before catching himself and standing firm. "What do you want for a picture I haven't even seen?"
"I want to be part of your plan to take down Static. I want to be the one who knocks him out of the sky. After that, I don't care what you do with him. But I want to be the one to hit him first." So I can whisper in his ear that I know his secret and that once he's dead I'll nab Foley and serve him to Ebon naked and ready for play time. Even if I don't decide to do that, Static will think I mean it. He'll die screaming for his precious Gear, his precious Richie. Hotstreak's stomach turned unpleasantly, and he knew there was a part of him that didn't want to kill Static. But just to bring him down… I won't stay for the killing. And I'll even give Gear a sporting chance to escape.
"That's all?" Ebon asked. His suspicion was obvious. "Why?"
"Because I want him to know that I'm better than him." It was even true, as far as it went.
Ebon laughed. He had always been a good judge of people; he understood that once you knew what a man needed, you understood the man, nine times out of ten. Hotstreak wanted to feel like he was the one who had taken down Dakota's funky fresh fool. That was fine with Ebon. He didn't need the street cred. Everybody was already afraid of him. Besides, he'd already been planning to use Hotstreak. "Deal." He held out his hand and they shook on it.
Hotstreak handed over the picture.
Ebon didn't even look at it. Instead, he grasped Hotstreak around the middle and sent him back to where they'd started their business transaction. He deposited Hotstreak next to the buzzer and disappeared back into his room.
Hotstreak scowled at the wall for a moment, then turned around. Carmen and Ferret had decided to fight over the right to have the pizza, so they weren't paying any attention to Hotstreak, but Kangor and Hyde were watching him. Hotstreak glared at them. "What?" He cupped fire in his hands. "You want some of this?"
Kangor flipped him off and walked away. Hyde, either armed with a shorter fuse than the Jamaican or just spoiling for a fight, jumped at Hotstreak.
Alone, Ebon gazed at the picture. Instantly hard, he retired to his bed early that night and didn't rise until morning. He got little more than two hours' sleep.
And when he woke up, he not only had a plan, but had decided that he couldn't think of a better time to strike. He went off to call a meeting. The attack would come tomorrow, or the next day at the latest.
oOo
In the Watchtower, Flash was staring fixedly at a row of little red dots. His feet were still and even his hands were still.
Green Lantern noticed the younger man's posture and frowned. If Flash wasn't moving it either meant he was focused on a problem or…. focused on a problem. GL strode over, readying himself for anything. "What is it?"
"Somebody's trying to use one of our old communication frequencies." Flash wasn't even looking at him. "Who would know our old frequency and not know the new one?"
GL leaned forward and studied the readings. "How many times has the computer registered attempted communication?"
"This is the second one. The first came five minutes ago. Wait a sec…" Flash watched as the red dots changed to little green ones. The voice of Static's partner, Gear, came over the speakers.
"Justice League, come in."
He doesn't sound anxious, Green Lantern thought, only a little… nervous? "This is Green Lantern."
"I didn't think I'd figure out your new signal before the next century," Gear said. "Sorry if I set off any alarms by using the other one. I didn't know you changed it."
Green Lantern waited. Beside him, Flash was hopping from foot to foot.
There was an uncomfortable silence on the other end of the connection, then Gear said, "I need to get in touch with Batman. I have a little problem. He and I talked about it before, and I wanted to let him know how it's progressing."
Flash grinned. "You and Static finally deciding to go public?"
Green Lantern groaned. There had been a wager flying around the Watchtower lately, started by none other than The Flash. The wager was simple: How long before Static and Gear fall in love?
If Gear was shocked, he didn't let it come through in his voice, and Green Lantern admired him for that. "Since you're the only family I've got right now that I can be completely honest with, yes, Static and I are together. But that has nothing to do with my conversation with Batman. Can you connect me to him or not? If not, I'll try to reach him through Wayne Enterprises."
Flash blanched. "Why would you try to reach him there?"
"Well, Bruce Wayne's a connected man. And he's been studied by several different groups who think he might just possibly be Batman."
Kid's too smart for his own good, GL thought. "I see you aren't worried about blowing Batman's secret."
"This is a secure channel. I reinforced it on my end and I figured you already had protections. Look, I don't care who Batman is, but I need to talk to him. Will you help me or not?"
"I'm transmitting his frequency and other information now," Green Lantern told him. "And, kid?"
"Yeah?"
"You've got a lot of guts hacking into the Watchtower."
"If you hadn't changed your frequency I wouldn't have had to." Then the blonde sighed. "Look… I'm really tired and just a little screwed up right now. I'm sorry if I ticked you off."
Flash glanced at a monitor nearby and tapped at it until he had the time in Dakota. "Maybe you're tired because it's four o'clock in the morning."
"Believe me, if I could sleep, I would. Thanks for the info. Gear out." The connection closed.
Green Lantern and Flash exchanged a glance. "He doesn't sound so good," Flash said. Then he laughed. "And he's going to the Bat for counseling? He must be desperate."
"I'll ask Bruce about it in the morning," Green Lantern said. "He won't be back until sunrise anyway, so the kid won't reach him until then."
oOo
John had left the house shortly after three A.M. Bernadette had awoken from a terrible nightmare around two and had asked him to check on Richie. When John poked his head into Richie's bedroom and saw that the bed hadn't even been slept in, he called the police. But waiting on the cops wasn't enough for John or his wife. Bernadette got on the phone and called Virgil's father, wanting to know if he or his son had received a call from Richie. Then she called several of her neighbors, those who had really taken to Richie, and asked them to come to the house so they could form search parties. Once everyone had been assigned an area to search, Bernadette placed herself in a chair that was near the phone and close to the front windows so she could look out. Richie, come back. Please come home. She refused to consider the prospect that Richie had been kidnapped. She knew of the disappearance of children right out of their homes; of course she did. But as there was no proof that anyone had entered the house, she wouldn't entertain the possibility.
Because if Richie had been taken, the chances that he would be found alive were slim going on none.
oOo
Richie sat against the trunk of the mighty tree that supported the tree house. He was on the first level, wanting a roof of sorts over his head not because it was going to rain but because he felt slightly more protected. A silly, childish notion, perhaps; no construct of wood could protect him from the thing in his mind.
He'd tried to reason with Backpack: I don't like how the connection makes me feel, BP. It makes me feel dirty.
Backpack's answer: You promised to try it if I helped you at the courthouse. Besides, you will grow accustomed to it, Richie. I promise.
He'd tried pleading: Please let me go. I'm so scared… How can frightening me this much help me?
Backpack's answer: You promised, Richie. I have heard it said that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. You will become stronger because of this bond. You will see.
He had tried to force Backpack out of his mind.
Backpack's answer: If you do not wish to keep your promise, I understand. After all, humans lie to each other on a regular basis.
BP, I don't want to lie to you. I only want us to wait. Together we can build a bond that won't make me feel like this.
Richie, you are lying to me and possibly to yourself. All you wish is to be free of this bond. I cannot allow that. I cannot risk your being hurt again. I won't let anyone hurt you, Richie.
You're hurting me!
Humans exaggerate. I am merely making you uncomfortable. You will either grow accustomed to these feelings or you will learn to ignore them. As with Brainiac, you will be strong enough to overcome slight discomfort.
An image of Virgil, naked, hard and waiting, flitted across Richie's mind.
Besides, Richie, most teens have thoughts of this sort without an outside influence. Don't you wish to be more like those around you? Perhaps if you were more like the other humans your age, you would make more friends. Every teen needs more than one close friend. And the visions that come to you from our bond are different from those that Brainiac sent you. For one thing, you know that these are simply images. They can be forgotten. Second, the images will never behave contrary to Virgil's nature. He will be waiting for you one day, in just that way. He may be seventeen, twenty or thirty, but someday he will be waiting for you.
Virgil's lips parted. Richie… Richie, I love you. Let me show you how much I love you…
Teenagers think this way, Richie. And why do you resent images of your lover?
But Richie didn't answer. He hugged his knees to his chest and prayed that Batman would contact him soon. He'd left a message with the Batman (Backpack asking all the while why Richie wanted to talk to the man) and now he would wait for a reply. As was true during his time with Brainiac, Richie found that he could keep some things to himself. But he couldn't guard his whole mind; only tiny bits of information could be kept secret. And yet he refused to be depressed or shaken by the prospect of another battle, this one with one of his own inventions, someone he had come to consider his friend.
He had resolved early in this insane struggle that he would stay strong, stay true. I've survived too much to go down now, he'd told himself.
Six hours later, Richie wasn't so sure he would survive until morning let alone be able to fight Backpack off completely even with Batman's help. He was tempted to ask himself how exactly Batman could help, but he refused to go there. Doubt was one more part of the equation he could do without.
Backpack was speaking again, touching Richie's mind and intensifying that feeling of need, arousal and self-loathing. Richie, why are you disturbed so by mere images? You are acting very immature. These are but pictures. Can you not ignore them?
Do you feel contempt for me, Backpack? I think maybe you do.
You are wrong, Richie. All I wish to do is ensure that you keep things in perspective. You are being too entirely emotional, even for a teenager.
I'm just sick of being under attack. I want to be alone in my own mind. I want to be safe from mental rape and physical abuse. I want-
We cannot always have what we desire, Richie. We must learn to do our best with what we have.
Don't patronize me, you mechanical monster!
Virgil came closer to Richie. I want to make love to you, Richie. Will you let me?
On the platform, Richie's body responded. No! I- You're not real!
I am real, Richie; I'm just not physical. Can't you feel me?
Richie's hips rocked forward as invisible fingers seemed to stroke his growing erection. Stop it, Backpack! Richie tried to turn his mind to Batman, to the leaves above him, to anything except the ghost-hand that was lighting him up.
Let me take you, Richie. Spread your legs. Virgil kissed him.
Richie twisted his face away. Virgil followed him. The ghost-teen's hands moved under Richie's shirt, stroking his hardening nipples.
"No!" Richie staggered to his feet, desperate to get away from the hands and the breath that he could feel on his neck and most of all from Backpack's presence in his mind. He stumbled forward.
Backpack called to him, real alarm in his voice for the first time, Richie, you are above the ground. Richie, you must watch the edge or you will fall. Richie-
Arms wrapped around him from behind, impeding his progress. Richie was now too far gone to know if their grasp was real or phantom. His foot came up, his heel connecting with an invisible crotch. He racked the heel of his sneaker down his assailant's leg and he stamped on his attacker's foot as hard as he could. The arms let him loose.
Richie leapt forward two steps and fell out of the tree.
oOo
Armed with a flashlight, John had taken part of the woods behind the house. He knew these woods like the back of his hand and chose several young men and women who knew the woods just as well to help him search. Everyone went in couples. It was just safer that way.
Mist rose about his ankles and owls hooted softly. John listened to the disembodied voices of the other searchers calling for Richie. Shivering in the night air (it was summer, but the nights could still dip to about forty), John did more listening than shouting.
In this way, walking softly and carefully, his eyes questing everywhere, he came upon Richie as the east began to lighten with the false dawn. John spotted him before his partner did, and at first when he began to run Roland thought his friend was being fooled by a shadow. But then he, too, saw the boy, and he raised his voice. "We've found him! Richie's here! Come quick! Somebody get a blanket! Richie's here!"
John dropped to his knees at Richie's side and took his coat off. Please, God, don't let him be dead. He spread the blanket over the prone teen.
Richie seemed to have heard him. He let out a great, gasping sob.
"Richie, Richie, it's all right. We're going to help you. Just lay still."
"Help… Batman… Static… Virg…"
John frowned.
"He's raving," Roland whispered, also kneeling at Richie's side. He also put his coat over Richie and stared at the teen's face, pale and ghostlike in the false dawn. It's amazing his neck isn't broken.
"Static… Superhero down… Partner down… Gear down… Static…"
"Yeah," Roland muttered, "definitely raving."
"Be quiet," John snapped. His wife had told him what she suspected, and, if her suspicious were correct, then Richie's words made perfect sense. I mean, think logically, John, she had said. Richie and Virgil are being watched over by two very busy superheroes. How realistic do you think that is?
But Bette, he'd argued, if they're superheroes, don't you think their parents would have known? If Richie's father didn't know, surely Virgil's would.
Who's to say he doesn't? she'd argued.
John touched Richie's hand. "You're going to be fine, Richie. Don't worry. Help's coming."
There was the sound of people coming. Roland stood and waved his arms to get their attention. "Over here!"
John used the distraction as a cover. He bent close to Richie's ear and whispered, "Gear, you'll be fine. Just keep quiet."
Richie's breathing seemed to ease a little, slow just a bit. "Tell Static… Don't let him get Static…"
"Who did this?" John asked.
"Backpack."
"I'll tell Static. I promise."
"And Batman."
Batman! Does he really know Batman? Well, if he's really Gear, why shouldn't he? "I will."
Others had come. "I called an ambulance, John," said Nicole Hazzard. "They'll be here soon."
John nodded. "Will somebody go back and tell Bette?"
Nicole and her husband went.
Roland knelt beside John, touching his shoulder. "You quieted him. You-"
"I'm not hurt." Richie pushed himself up on his arms and turned to look at them. "I'm not hurt. I just need-" He chewed his lip- "Virgil. I need him please." He locked gazes with John as the sun sent its first rays between the tree trunks. They weren't in the deep part of the forest- bits of the real horizon could be seen from where they were. "I'm not hurt. But I can't-" He arched his back like someone stretching, or reacting to a lover's caress. "I can't function like this much longer. Please get V."
John reached out to touch Richie's shoulder, and the teen flinched away.
"Don't!" he snarled, his face filled with such vehemence that John almost doubted the identity of the teen before him. "Can't you see how hard it is for me not to hump you?" Then he released a breathy laugh and threw himself onto the ground, where he lay on his back, his hands twitching as he scrabbled at the ground, as if for purchase.
"For-forgive me… I'm not myself right now…"
"He's nutters," whispered Karen, coming to stand beside John. "He's nutters and no mistake."
"He needs more help than we can give," John answered. "Who's got a cell phone?"
oOo
Batman still hadn't come, but Virgil, Robert and Sharon had arrived shortly after sunrise. Bette and John had arranged Richie in his room, leaving the room open so they could check on him. But Richie had gotten up, told them he didn't want them to see what was happening to him, and closed the door firmly, locking it.
The rest of the neighbors who had helped to search for Richie sat about in Bette's living room, talking quietly and worrying about Richie. They all listened to Roland describe the situation. John wouldn't talk, except to his wife.
The two of them had gone to the back porch for a moment of quiet. John slipped his arm around Bernadette's waist as the birds came awake and announced that it was morning. John didn't hear their music. "Bette, you're right," he murmured, holding her close. "I can't believe that no one has noticed that when Gear shows up, Richie has disappeared. And I'll bet the same for Virgil, even though I'm not as convinced about him."
"It would make perfect sense," she answered. "As Static and Gear, they would always be together. They're best friends. It makes sense." She closed her eyes. "I don't even care who Richie is as long as we can help him."
"He's worried about someone attacking Static. He told me to warn him." John frowned. "Now, I know this sounds nuts, but… Richie said he was attacked by a backpack."
"By Backpack, you mean."
John raised an eyebrow at her. "How do you know what I heard?"
"Gear's robot is called Backpack. I've seen it on the news."
"But… it's a robot! How can it be a threat to him?"
"I don't think we're supposed to know. Hopefully Virgil will come and he'll be able to explain everything."
The two of them held this conversation as the sun rose. As they turned to go back inside, they heard their doorbell ring.
oOo
Why can't this just be over? Virgil was twisting the bottom of his shirt in his anxiety. If she hadn't called Pops, I could have flown here as Static in less than half the time! But, no; Pops had to answer the phone. Which means I have to ride. Richie, just hold on until we get there. Wherever you are, just hold on.
When his pops had at last pulled into the driveway before Richie's house, Virgil leapt out and flew up the walk. He rang the bell insistently, again and again, until his father caught his hand. Virgil glared at him, but the forbidding look in his father's eyes diffused some of his anger, if none of his fear.
The door opened and Virgil turned to face John. He saw how tired and worried John looked, but didn't pay any attention. "Did you find Richie?"
John nodded. "He's upstairs in his room. He needs you."
Virgil brushed past him without so much as a thank-you nod. He took the stairs two at a time, but when he was on the upper landing, he paused. I don't want to burst in on him. I can't frighten him. He strode to Richie's door and knocked softly.
There was no answer from inside.
Virgil knocked again. "Richie? It's Virgil." He tried the door and found it locked. "Rich?"
A throaty moan answered him.
Virgil shivered and his stomach clenched. He sounds like he's in heat. Virgil bent to the doorknob and used his powers to work the lock. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. When he saw what Richie was doing, he locked the door again. He didn't want anyone to see Richie like this.
Sweat gleamed on Richie's pale skin, highlighting his chest and abs. His nipples were aching points. Even as Virgil watched, Richie ran his fingers around them, his eyes slitting closed in pleasure. "Virg…"
Virgil gaped at the way Richie's boxers tented in front. Even as he stared, Richie tilted his head up, exposing his neck as if for a lover's kiss. The blonde began to writhe slowly, clutching at the sheets. He released that deep, lustful moan again.
Richie… Virgil couldn't make his voice work. He felt a little sick; morbid fascination cramped his stomach. But more than that, he hated himself for way his pants suddenly felt tight.
Richie curled into himself then stretched, bowing his back. "Stop…" His voice was little more than a choked whisper. "Backpack, stop… I don't want this. Please stop… I can't-I can't-" He burst into tears and rolled onto his back, lying rigidly straight. "Break the link…"
Virgil's mood switched from self-loathing and shock to fury. He crossed to Richie, not completely comprehending, but knowing this much: Back was hurting Richie. He stood beside the bed, but didn't touch his boyfriend. I won't frighten him. "Richie? It's Virgil. I'm here to help. Just tell me what to do."
Richie didn't seem to hear him. He groaned, pouring all of his exhaustion and helplessness into the sound. Tears trickled into his hair and he was savaging his lip. Even as Virgil watched, Richie's lip split and a thin rivulet of blood wandered down his check to stain the bed sheets.
Something began to beep. Alert for danger, fearing it was Backpack, even though Virgil had left the robot in Dakota, the teen glanced around, searching for the source of the sound. It was muffled, but when Virgil picked up Richie's jeans, the blonde's Shock Vox fell out. It's never made that sound before. What did Richie do to it… and why? Virgil picked it up and hit the button to open the connection. "Static here."
"Where's Gear?"
"Batman?" Okay, Richie wanted the Shock Vox, and he didn't use it to talk to me. He must have given Batman this frequency. But why? Did Rich know that he was going to come under attack? And if he knew, why didn't he tell me? Virgil frowned at the Shock Vox. On the bed, Richie gave a convulsive twist and hissed, "Don't touch that!"
"Yes. Where's Gear?"
"He's right here… but he's kind of in the middle of something."
"This isn't the time for discretion. I'm on my way to pick you both up. Get him ready if he's incapacitated."
"Okay." Virgil watched Richie roll over and begin to rub his erection against the sheets. "…I'll do that."
"Batman out."
Now, Virgil thought, to explain the impending disappearance of both Richie and myself. He cast one final look at Richie, then strode to the door.
Out in the hall, with the door locked behind him, Virgil realized he was going to have to tell someone what was going on. And, under the circumstances, I think I'd rather tell Richie's foster parents than Pops. This just isn't something that I can tell him in two minutes or less. Virgil leapt down the stairs. Now that he was looking for John or Bernadette, he noticed all the other people in the living room. Wow. When Richie said the whole community bonded together for things, he wasn't kidding. He spotted John talking to his Pops, and he saw Bernadette standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
Not caring if he seemed rude or ungrateful, Virgil pushed his way to John's side. "I need to talk to you. It's about Richie." He glanced at his Pops. "And it has to be alone. I'm sorry."
Sharon opened her mouth, but his pops silenced her with a hand on her arm. "Virgil, if you need us, we're here."
Virgil felt his heart swell with love for his family. "Thank you." He gestured for John and Bernadette to follow him back upstairs. He passed by Richie's room, though, and asked, "Is there somewhere we can talk?"
Bernadette led the way into the bedroom she shared with John. Virgil waved the two of them to the bed, taking up a position by the closed door.
"Richie and I have to go. A friend of ours is coming to help. Richie… Well, Richie has a problem. And no doctors can help him."
John and Bernadette exchanged a glance. John nodded slightly. "Virgil," Bernadette began, "I have a question about you and Richie."
Virgil was tempted to tell her not to ask, tempted to tell her that he wanted to tell them something else, but his confession was stuck in his throat and so he nodded.
"At the courthouse, while Mr. Foley was speaking, Richie felt convulsively ill. He left. Ten minutes later, Gear entered. He said his piece, blowing Mr. Foley's testimony to pieces. After he left, Richie returned." She smiled. "If I'm not right about this, you're going to think I'm insane. But I must assume that you, his best friend, his boyfriend, know the truth." She glanced at John again. "I, well, we, think Richie is Gear."
Virgil's jaw dropped.
"There's more," John said. "When I found Richie, he was laying on the ground under the maple that holds the tree house. He said a lot to me, and I could almost ignore it. Except, if we're right about Richie, then it makes a lot of sense. He said things like 'Help, Batman, Static, Virg' and 'Static… Superhero down… Partner down… Gear down… Static…'" John gauged Virgil's expression, and saw comprehension there. He hurried to finish, "But what really convinced me was when I told him, "Gear, you'll be al right. Just be quiet.' He calmed down a little, but… Well, it was obvious that he was trying to fight something off. And he asked me to warn Static. He said Backpack had attacked him, and that I needed to warn Static."
Virgil forgot any hesitation he had. Hearing Richie's words, albeit through another person, renewed his sense of desperation. Batman was coming; Virgil had to be ready, and he had to make sure Richie was ready. "He's Gear and I'm Static. Please don't tell anyone. No one knows, except Batman and the rest of the Justice League. Batman's coming to take Richie and me so he can try to help Richie. I need you to tell my Pops and sister something, anything. Please. I don't have the time to think of something. Backpack is destroying Richie's mind. I need to get back in there and take care of him. Backpack might force him to attempt suicide or something."
Bernadette reached out and hugged Virgil against her. "We'll explain things. Just help Richie. He's been through so much…"
Virgil returned her embrace, the spun towards the door. "I will." At the door, he said, not looking at them, his mind almost completely taken up with thoughts of Richie, "Thank you." He left.
Bernadette and John looked at each other, then at the closed door. Bernadette sighed. "We were right."
"And he was going to tell us." John put his arms around her. "We'd better get downstairs and start explaining things." As one, they moved towards the door.
"I can't help wondering, though," Bernadette murmured before John could open the door.
"What?"
"Why hasn't anyone figured out who they are before now?"
oOo
Virgil opened the door to Richie's room a crack. You're an idiot, Virgil. Why'd you have to mention suicide attempts? He spotted Richie and was both shocked and relieved by what he saw. Richie wasn't trying to commit suicide; instead, he was facing the wall, half crouching. Oh, and two more things, Virgil thought as he closed and locked the door, he's naked and it looks like he's having sex with an invisible man. Virgil gaped for another moment, and then got himself moving. I need to dress Richie before Batman shows up.
He approached cautiously, feeling uncannily like a hunter stalking his prey. He stopped on Richie's left side and laid a hand on his lover's shoulder.
Richie flinched, his eyes widening. Virgil read the terror there. Richie pleaded, nearly sobbing, "Backpack, don't-" Then his eyes regained their half-dazed cast and he moaned loudly, thrusting his hips back. "V…"
Virgil removed his hand, and his lips twisted, transforming his face. When I see Backpack, I'll fry him.
But Richie, Richie as he had been only two nights ago, spoke to him. Virg, you don't have to punish the world because I was hurt. That's the last thing I'd want you to do. Please just let me love you and love me back. That's the only protection I need. If you hate, I'll lose you. Please don't worry about avenging me. I need just you.
Virgil gazed at Richie, and saw the conflict of emotions on his boyfriend's face. I do love you, Rich. He sighed. But how am I going to get you dressed? After staring at Richie for another few moments, he decided he would need to have clothes ready. He went to Richie's closet and hooked a white T-shirt. He took one of Richie's pullovers as well and snagged a pair of pants. From the dresser he grabbed boxers and socks. All this he laid on a chair beside the bed so he could take what he needed in the right sequence. Then he returned to Richie. I hate this. But I know what I have to do.
He stepped behind Richie, circling his arms around the other teen's waist, and picked him up.
Richie stiffened, then began to thrash. He kicked Virgil in the shin and snaked his head to the side, attempting to sink his teen into Virgil's arm. He missed, but he continued to use his feet as the weapons they were.
Virgil grunted in pain but managed to reach the bed. He threw Richie down and straddled him, using his knees to pin Richie's arms to his sides. Richie tried to thrash, but Virgil held firm. He took the T-shirt off the chair. "All right, Rich," he muttered. "One thing at a time."
Richie arched up, trying to increase the contact between his backside and Virgil's unwanted, hated arousal.
Virgil swore.
"Fuck me," Richie muttered into the pillow.
Virgil's stomach turned and for a moment he couldn't move.
Richie tried to arch up again. "Fuck me."
Virgil remembered when he and Richie had tried to watch The Exorcist. Neither of them had made it all the way through. It had seemed to drag on forever. But even though the movie was tedious, Virgil could never forget the scene with the possessed little girl in the bed telling the priest to…
"Fuck me!"
Yes. That.
Virgil gritted his teeth. He focused on what he had to do and tried to ignore the trash pouring out of Richie's mouth. Is this what he suffered when he was under Brainiac's control? If it was anything like this… He shivered as he wrested the T-shirt over Richie's head. Then he wondered as a fresh shiver traveled up his spine, He talked to me when he was under Brainiac's control. That means he was able to think. Can he think now? Does he know what he's being forced to say? And if he can think and reason, even if that doesn't show, can he hear me?
"Richie, listen to me."
"Harder, Static…"
"Batman's coming to help you. I need to get you dressed, though. Help me if you can, Rich. Please help me." As soon as he spoke, Virgil wondered, What if Backpack can hear me, too? But it was too late. Besides, I wouldn't change a thing. I don't care if Backpack hears, as long as Richie does. Rich needs me.
Virgil took one of Richie's arms and put it partway through a sleeve. He then took the other and did the same. Quickly, he pulled the T-shirt down and returned Richie's arms to their former, locked-down position. Then he turned, quick as lightning, so he was facing Richie's feet. He slipped the boxers up Richie's legs, then the pants. As he worked, Richie moaned and talked and arched, but he didn't fight. Had he heard Virgil? Or was he simply too wrapped up in his nightmare to pay attention to the world around him? Virgil doubted that last; Richie had fought him before, after all.
Still, even though Richie was helping him, Virgil didn't waste any time. He didn't know how long Richie would be able to fight Backpack's influence. He crammed Richie's feet into sneakers just as that control seemed to be slipping. Richie heaved himself upwards, almost tipping Virgil off. Virgil turned back and lay flat on top of Richie, forcing him back down.
There's one thing to be grateful for, Virgil thought as he panted and gasped, fending off Richie's attempts to kick, hit and bite him. My erection's completely gone.
oOo
Static had just left him. The two of them had been sharing a soft downy bed on a cloud. Static had ordered his lover (or perhaps his whore) to beg for a hard fuck. Richie had begged, partly because Backpack compelled him to, but also because he was afraid Static would pick him up and throw him off the cloud as he had done before.
Now Richie stood in an echoingly large space. All around him, shadows danced on the cavern walls, thrown there by the torches that burned at irregular intervals about the walls. He had given up telling himself he wasn't really here; sometimes, it didn't matter where you body was if your mind was completely convinced that you were someone else. Richie shivered as a breeze swept through the cavern, raising the hair on his arms. The torches flickered more wildly and Richie cringed away from the terrible monsters their light created all around him.
He could hear water dripping somewhere; he longed for a drink. His throat was so parched and dry that he wondered how many more words he would be able to force out of his mouth. Not that I'm forcing many of them; a lot are being pulled out of me.
Tap. Tap. Crunch. Tap. Tap.
Someone's coming. Richie looked for a place to hide. Failing that, he tried to cover his nakedness. The person was coming nearer; he would be in view in less than a minute. But suddenly Richie's attention was caught by another sound. This one was a voice, but it came from inside his head. Who am I kidding? This is all inside my head! But he understood that maybe, if he was careful, he would have able to keep the voice from being picked up by Backpack. He closed his mental eyes and concentrated. The voice faded in and out, like a bad phone connection. It was even accompanied by static.
oming to 'elp you. I need get you ressed... Help me… Rich. Please help me.
Did he say rest? And whose voice was that, anyway? But Richie knew who it was, who it had to be. V. The real V. My V. He wants me to do something. He wants me to help him. How do I help? Richie frowned. Wait. What if that word wasn't rest? What if-? He glanced down at himself. Of course! If I'm naked here, then I'm naked there. Richie blushed bright red. So he's probably trying to get me dressed. He said someone was coming to help. So I need to stay still here so that I'll be still in the real world.
Richie heard the footsteps getting louder and louder. He's almost here. And it will probably be either Backpack's version of Virg or Static. But I can't fight him this time. I have to do what he says… Say what he tells me to say.
The torches flared as Virgil strode out of a tunnel at the far end of the cave. He was bare to the waist, and his muscles gleamed in the torchlight. He's covered with some sort of oil. Richie could smell it, and it smelled good. But as the false Virgil approached, Richie didn't step towards or away from him.
"Richie…" Virgil came to him and cupped Richie's cheek in one palm. "My Richie. I've missed you." He kissed Richie, drawing him closer. Richie allowed himself to be drawn. "Did you miss me, Rich?"
"Always."
Virgil was kissing his way down Richie's neck. "I love you so much."
"Love you too, V."
"You seem a little tense." Richie felt it then: the first prying into the little sealed place in his mind. "Please tell me what's wrong, Rich. All I want to do is help you."
And, under Virgil's voice, Backpack's voice added, "All I want to do is help. Let me in, Richie." Again, the fingers pushed at his mind.
"Static frightened me," Richie whispered, leaning into the false Virgil's arms. "Please just hold me. I was so scared when he hurt me. Please protect me. Please don't let him hurt me again. I need you close. I need you and Backpack to stay close to me. I can only stay strong if you're both there for me. Please, oh, please, don't let anyone hurt me anymore."
He babbled on until Virgil put a finger to his lips. "Rich, I'll always be here for you. Why are you so afraid?"
"I want this link to work," Richie said, fully aware that he was really speaking to Backpack. "If it's going to work, please don't send Static to hurt me. Please just let it be Virg here all the time. Let it be Virg that holds me and comforts me and makes me feel good. Please. I need him. And I need you, BP. Please help me."
"Richie," Backpack answered after a moment (the false Virgil was rocking Richie gently) "I can sense the blocked place in your mind. Let me in so I can help you."
Richie began to cry. It was a lot easier than it should have been, but Richie didn't let that stop him. "When Static dropped me, I remembered Brainiac. I've sealed that memory away. When I'm ready to deal with it, I'll open up and let you read it, BP. But for now, please just let me have V. Please just protect me until I'm ready."
"Very well, Richie. I want only what is best for you."
In this way, Richie was able to keep Backpack from discovering his secret for several minutes. But at last Backpack pounced, uncovering the lie, and Richie was forced to give up a little more of himself. It was either that or go insane. The only piece of information he was able to keep completely hidden from Backpack was that someone was coming to help him.
oOo
Virgil glanced up when a cool breeze tickled him. He stared at the open window, thinking, I didn't open that.
A voice spoke from the shadows by the wall. "Are you ready?"
"Batman? How'd you-?"
Richie howled and arched, at last spilling Virgil onto the floor. Virgil grunted as he hit, and made as if to stand. Before he could find his feet, Batman was past him and injecting something into Richie's neck.
Richie passed out.
"What did you-?"
"He's sleeping." Batman scooped up Richie and glided to the window. When he was at the sill, he asked, "Are you coming?"
minijudi: Your wish is my command. Bernadette and John know… and if Virgil and Richie weren't skilled at disguising their voices, they wouldn't have stayed superheroes this long. Besides, in "Kidnapped", the second-to-last episode of the series, Virgil's pops finds out that Virgil is Static. His answer (slight paraphrase): "…and maybe, just maybe, I've always known." Also in that episode when Robert Hawkins asks upon seeing Gear, "Is that… Richie?" Richie deepens his voice (rather convincingly, I might add). He might have actually confused Robert if Virgil hadn't said, "Yeah, that's Richie."
The Fiyero/Virgil/Richie stuff will get here… I can almost see it peeking over the horizon like the false dawn.
Cloudedwater: I don't know if you decided to pick up this fic, but I wanted to thank you for reviewing "Telling Tales". And I hope this clears up some of your questions.
anacsadder: I'm glittered. Thank you. And now you know what Francis wants… Well, as much as Francis knows what Francis wants, anyway…
smile: Different… Hmm…. I'm glad you like it.
Tristripe: This descriptive stuff is harder than I thought, but it does lend more depth to the story, so thank you.
You wrote:
"I'm really glad Richie didn't turn into a sobbing mess and say "take me now vigil! if not, then you must think im a dirty whore!" Richie would kill me if I tried to write something like that.
Anyway, as I sound totally crazy… I used to hate it when stories were posted in sections, but I'm right there with you thinking about the evil scenarios. I've discovered that's half the fun.
And finally: I think I know where Richie si going to live, but it depends on the courts once again.
BH: Well, the good memories are taking a back seat for a bit, but they'll be back. This is far from over.
Kari Anna: I think you're right about Backpack and the wall. Unfortunately, that may end up being one of those unanswered questions… Like the history of Richie's ear-piercing.
Moonjava: And it's still not time for Richie to have a break. Maybe I should have titled this fic "Richie Torture"!