Chapter: 6
The sun glared nearly blindingly as Livia made her way through the rows of tombstones, trailing alongside her father in somewhat companionable silence. It had been a decent amount of time since Livia went to visit her mother, even longer to see her father. It felt…not quite odd…more shameful to go now, mostly because Livia had hated her mother and father for something neither of them had done. Now Livia knew the truth, she knew that her father Markus was actually a Baudelaire witch plagued by a curse and that her mother Amara was collateral damage caught in the crosshairs of something she thought they could overcome. Markus and Amara's joint attempt at avoiding their cursed fate all for naught.
Livia almost refused Alaric's offer to go with him but reconsidered. Perhaps she hoped to catch a glimpse of Markus's ghost though that seemed unlikely as the last time Livia saw her father, in the prison world with Leá, he made it clear that by using what power he had left to help Livia's escape degraded whatever strength he had to manifest in the Physical Plane. Livia wasn't sure she'd even see Markus in the Astral Plane again. Despite this knowledge, Livia went with her adoptive father in the hope that she'll see something of significance.
Maybe Livia also wanted the opportunity to show her remorse for the hatred she brought upon her father and mother…guilt was something Livia felt strongly, especially toward her mother. Livia may never truly understand her mother's motivation and mindset for getting onto the plane that ended their lives, there could have been other forces at work, but Livia understood love. Livia understood that strong desire to fight for love to stand by love and to help the person and people who hold your love. Livia's perspective had shifted, in facing the curse and in finding love with Darren, Livia knew what her mother must have felt and therefore what drove her actions. There were still pieces missing from Markus's and Amara's story…but Livia knew enough of the whole to understand that what happened was not anyone's fault but Klarion's for cursing the Baudelaires in the first place.
On that whim, Livia's thoughts turned to Darren…and her concern for him that only grew in their time apart. She didn't know if what she stumbled upon was a one-time thing…if it was just a minor slip up, a momentary lapse of resolve but the heaviness in Livia's gut told her those were merely excuses to avoid admitting the truth. Darren was struggling more than usual and his behavior—despite not being life-threatening—had scared Livia. It wasn't Livia's fault—nor was it necessarily Darren's fault—but she felt responsible. That incident happened in her apartment, in her room, with Livia asleep in the bed right outside the bathroom door…essentially under her watch. Of course, Livia was not Darren's keeper, but she cared about Darren's wellbeing all the same. That situation could have ended differently if Livia hadn't jolted awake out of the blue—or perhaps not out of the blue—it could have been worse; it could have been life-altering…yet Darren didn't seem to care.
Perhaps it was different to him…Darren couldn't feel that pain and the wounds just healed over, no repercussions. It was the intention that had Livia worried…and she didn't know where to go from there. Darren would not discuss what happened with her, and he requested that Livia give him time to sort through whatever it was he currently dealt with, but Livia wasn't certain he had the time he wanted; Livia also didn't know what to do. Was it her place to say something to Darren? Should she say anything at all? Perhaps mention her fears to Tim? To Dinah? Or to Dick? Could she do that knowing Darren would know exactly who said anything at all? It was not a great place to be in and Livia warred internally with herself as she tried to decide what was the best course of action,
"Thank you for coming with me today," Alaric said suddenly, the glare from the sun shining off the rim of his glasses as he threw an almost shy glance Livia's way, "I know things haven't been…the best between us lately,"
"You mean since you took the word of someone who barely knew me over the fact that you raised me for thirteen years?" Livia couldn't help but remark dryly. Though there had been a momentary instance of understanding between father and daughter prior to the ritual it degraded slowly but steadily over the past few months. The disdain she had for Alaric's girlfriend Jennifer was still thriving, as well as the intense sensation Livia picked up on a magical level whenever within a few feet of the woman. That feeling intensified Livia's frustration with her father and his actions when around the woman. It, whatever 'it' was, created tension that neither of them liked nor understood.
Jennifer was currently at the apartment, spending some quality time with Peter…neither Livia nor her little cousin liked Jennifer. And Livia couldn't help but squirm slightly at the thought of Peter being left alone with her. It didn't bode well that Livia felt so strongly about Jennifer…but she couldn't force Alaric to stop seeing the woman, at least not without reason. Though a small voice in Livia's mind whispered that she could stop Alaric from seeing Jennifer…she could interfere magically if needed…immediately Livia threw the thought from her mind feeling even more guilt flood her already weary mind,
"Livia…" Alaric started, throwing her an irritated look,
"Oh, never mind. I'm sorry. Not the time," Livia muttered, "Though it is true," It was Jennifer's fault that Klarion somewhat won his little mind game with Livia. Alaric had forced her through Jennifer into seeing Dinah for therapy…their reasoning was unclear beyond the fact that Livia 'did not seem to be quite herself.'
Alaric grimaced but said nothing more and they continued through the silent, empty array of tombstones closing the distance between themselves and Livia's parents with even strides. The silence was bearable, but barely so…becoming increasingly uncomfortable and wrecked with the intensity of their uncertainty with the other,
"I stand by my decision…perhaps not my execution, but my decision I feel was right," Alaric said finally. Livia let out a small snort but didn't say anything else, "I am sorry I hurt you though."
Livia gave no response as they finally reached Amara and Markus's headstones, glimmering a grey-white in the brightness of the afternoon—nearly evening—sun. Livia merely stared, remembering when she pulled her mother's forearm out of the ground to retrieve the raven necklace she could no longer wear. It felt as if time had passed considerably since that moment, Livia felt like a completely different person…and she was a different person in more ways than one. Livia wished she could see Markus's ghost, or even her mother's but it appeared Markus was still too weak to be seen or was permanently gone from manifesting on the Physical Plane. Amara appeared to never have had the opportunity to manifest as a ghost at all. A hard clump of grief and guilt settled in Livia's chest as stared intently at the tombstones thinking silently to herself, I'm sorry, I wish things had been different. I'm sorry I hated you, I'm sorry I didn't understand…I do now, and I will make a difference. It was all she could do. It wasn't something Livia could say in front of Alaric.
Alaric ignoring Markus's stone instead knelt to place the bouquet of flowers he'd brought with him in front of his sister's place marker.
"Was it worth it?" Livia asked cautiously, testing the uneasy truce they seemed to have come across together. Alaric glanced back at Livia, squinting in the sun his deep brown eyes exactly like Petey's, appeared mournful in the light,
"I don't know yet…but we'll get there someday," There was a glimmer in Alaric's eye, something akin to regret but also a hardiness as if he were challenging Livia to further pry apart the rift writhing between them. A rift that seemed to fluctuate, plateauing for a while before rising to the surface over and over again. Neither of them could prevent it, too stubborn for their own good.
For a moment Livia wanted to stare back, to use her magic to see into his mind and read his thoughts but forced herself from that path. She was sure she didn't want to see what lurked there not right now not when things were so volatile between them. Livia loved her adoptive father, and she knew he loved her as his own, but it was hard on them because of her secrets and it was hard on Livia because she knew deep down it was not entirely his fault for igniting the fire that drove them apart.
So, Livia looked away, turning slightly to give Alaric his space and time with his sister. She heard Alaric sigh, but he didn't try to speak or call her back. They were both struggling to find their way back to how things were before…but Livia wasn't the same person as before, in just a short year her entire world had shifted while Alaric's remained linear, set on a single certain path. Livia had branched off into something beyond Alaric and Petey…she was finding it hard to stay centered within her perceived past while maintaining her ongoing future as the new Embodiment of Chaos.
Livia shook away such thoughts, that was too intense and too metaphysical for her to consider, not now when things were still not settled with her and Alaric, with Klarion, and even with the Court of Owls. Instead, Livia let her gaze wander and sweep across the vast array of tombstones only to stop at seeing another pair of figures standing before a tombstone a way across the cemetery. That wasn't odd, anyone was allowed to enter the cemetery and see their loved ones…what was odd was that it was where Darren's mother was buried. Or at least Livia thought that was where Amanda's resting place was.
Frowning, Livia squinted in the sun as she shielded her eyes with a hand locating the Crowne mausoleum with ease her gaze shifting back to the pair standing before a granite tombstone. One figure was tall, with a long white ponytail the other slight and shorter. Livia caught a glimpse of light reddish hair from the distance but no defining features. She considered using magic to strengthen her eyesight but didn't want to blind herself from the intense sunlight in the process. Livia didn't know if anyone else visited Darren's mother or if this was something to be suspicious about…could they be old friends? Distant relatives? Either way a shiver of…something…ran down Livia's spine. Nothing felt right in that graveyard,
"Livia?" Alaric called, startling Livia. She glanced back at him, eyes wide as he raised an eyebrow in question, "Do you want a moment alone?" he nodded over to Amara's tombstone, Markus's undecorated headstone alongside hers looking lonely and dark. Livia swallowed thickly, glancing back toward Amanda's grave only to see the area empty…the two people previously before it mysteriously gone,
"No…I'm fine," Livia replied, looking back over to Alaric as she crossed her arms over her chest suddenly feeling the chill in the November air more strongly,
"All right then…let's uh, head home," Alaric stated almost lamely as he turned and started trudging back the way they came.
Livia started to follow, only to stop staring back at her parents' tombstones. She tried for a moment to picture them standing there, behind their tombstones or arm-in-arm beside the stones. Livia knew what Markus looked like, he was easy to picture…sandy hair and Baudelaire yellow-green eyes…Amara had always only been a photograph to Livia never a real person so she was harder to see there…a two-dimensional version of a living breathing woman with thick wavy dark, dark hair and bright brown, almost amber eyes was all Livia could muster,
"I miss you…I'm sorry…I-I love you," Livia whispered, waving her hand towards the tombstones before hurrying after Alaric.
Leaving behind a matching bouquet of flowers in front of Markus's gravestone in the hopes that perhaps somehow and somewhere he was watching.
Darren was falling. Literally falling, the weightlessness providing a distorted sense of momentary peace before the sound of an explosion echoed above. Pieces of shrapnel and debris plummeted from the building, reigning down over Darren as he plunged toward the pavement. Darren could feel the heat of the explosion on his back and the pelleting pieces of wreckage as gravity took hold. In all honesty, not Darren's best work, not by a long shot but disarming bombs were not his forte and it was either get the information they needed or disarm the bomb…it was a business suspected as a front for mob activity…the damage didn't exactly matter that much to Darren. Either way Darren didn't exactly have time to concern himself on whether he should have maintained the rest of the building as he was currently nose-diving to the ground below.
The feeling of gravity was welcome, Darren wasn't uncomfortable with falling, if he could land upright or had something to grab onto. Unfortunately, he was clutching a flash drive in one hand and a pile of folders in the other, which made orienting himself difficult. On top of all that Darren didn't get the chance to eyeball the distance from the floor he was on to the ground, which would have definitely been helpful had he known he'd be flinging himself through the nearest set of windows. Darren barely had time to barrel roll himself midair, so his gaze fell on the debris raining down behind him before the feeling of falling ended quite abruptly as he slammed into a rather expensive looking car parked carelessly alongside the sidewalk. The sound of crunching metal nearly deafened Darren, the sound of shattering glass and a spattering of the building from the explosion up above added to the brief sensory overload. Darren let out a strangled gasp, blinking bits of dust and shaking pieces of glass from his hair as he finally let his head clunk back against what was left of the car's roof, blinking with exhaustion up at the star-filled Gotham night sky.
The fall hadn't hurt, not by any means, but Darren was certainly injured by any standard definition. A few ribs had gone…maybe a lot more by the way it felt difficult to breathe. Definitely a few burns from the blast, pieces of glass pushed their way free from Darren's skin as the Electrum in his blood worked to heal whatever injuries he had. Static buzzed in Darren's ears and for a second, he worried his eardrums had ruptured only to realize it was the rest of the Bats, their voices cutting in and out as they talked over themselves. Darren grimaced, letting out a rough cough making another face as the taste of blood filled his mouth…something internal was amiss, though nothing a Talon couldn't heal from,
"Renegade, come in!" Nightwing's, Dick's, voice cut through clearly at last, "Was that explosion you?" Darren, still eagle spread on the roof of the now very damaged car, cleared his throat as best he could before bringing his hand—still clutching the flash drive—to his earpiece,
"Um…yeah…that was me," Darren managed to reply,
"Please tell me you're not still in the building," was Barbara's exasperated sigh,
"Nah, I—," Darren started, stopping abruptly to let out another cough, "—I bailed at the last second—,"
"—Are you injured?" Came the alarmed interruption this time from Tim,
"Is that an actual question?" Darren replied shortly, glancing down at himself…for the first time realizing the rather large piece of metal framing from the car had punctured clean through his body, low down on his gut. Darren frowned, so that was the something internal which was amiss…that would take some work to pull free from,
"Yes, it's a legitimate question!" Tim practically hissed, he sounded irritated. Darren remained silent as he placed the drive in a pouch on one of his belts before reaching for the metal rod, attempting to wiggle and loosen the area speared by it…wincing as his body reacted rather negatively to that unnatural method, it certainly wouldn't be approved of by Alfred or Dr. Leslie,
"Well, I'm fine," Darren huffed out, trying to hide the slight strain in his voice. It wasn't that Darren was in pain or at any true risk, it was only that the Electrum merely healed the wound and took away the feeling of pain; the body still reacted,
"While we're on the matter of the explosion…why was there an explosion?" Stephanie butted in, causing Darren to grit his teeth as he tossed the files he still held from his fall onto the sidewalk. Moving to brace his hands on what remained of the roofing of the car Darren mentally prepared himself to lift himself up and off the metal shard he'd been impaled on,
"Yeah? Why exactly was there an explosion?" Barbara mused; she was on comms management that night while Alfred was on standby for more serious emergencies. The new system of working in shifts for communication oversight worked better now that Dick and Babs needed to trade-off when one patrolled versus the other, who stayed home in case Mike needed someone throughout the night. The makeshift portable Batcave Dick and Barbara installed in the penthouse connected with the communication unit which operated on the same mainframe in the true Batcave. Dick and Babs could work from home without worrying about Mike,
"Don't you guys have more important things to do than interrogate me?" Darren muttered through gritted teeth as he slowly lifted himself up, grimacing at the feeling of metal sliding against his innards,
"We went over the schematics…the backups and the contingencies…everything so that the bomb wouldn't go off," Tim stated pointedly,
"Yes, and I now know how to make a mob-style pipe bomb…disarming it is a whole other story. Besides the bomb was ticking pretty fast, I forgot all the backups and contingencies, so I just threw myself out the window and called it a job well done that I didn't blow myself into smithereens," Darren replied, snidely not understanding Tim's frustration, as he painstakingly got his feet under himself and balanced—rather haphazardly on what remained of the car's uneven roof—reaching up with his hands to carefully bend the remaining half of the metal pole to a ninety-degree angle facing away from himself and towards the sidewalk of freedom,
"You got the information we required, correct?" Bruce's voice finally joined the fray, drowning out Nightwing's slight scolding on improper measures when dealing with bomb defusal,
"Yes," Darren replied quickly, eyeing the stack of folders on the ground as he pulled himself forward hand over hand up and over the now angled piece of metal pole, pushing himself off the end with a groan of relief just as a cacophony of sirens sounded in the quiet Gotham night. It's about time Darren thought before letting out a hacking cough. With a grunt Darren spit out a glob of blood onto the floor. Grimacing at the still salty, bloody, taste in his mouth Darren instead brought his attention to the gaping—though slowly starting to close—hole in his gut. The hole in his red and black suit—a mirror to Dick's blue and black Nightwing suit—was ragged and frayed the Kevlar woven carefully within the fabric. Alfred would not like fixing this piece up once more. The flicker of guilt Darren felt was eclipsed by a sudden bout of dizziness forcing Darren to stumble a step or two as he placed a hand on the remains of the crushed car to steady himself. He was hungry…the healing was sapping any energy he had prior to patrol and Darren had fueled up accordingly…all the Bats had; perhaps there had been a few more injuries from the explosion and fall that Darren hadn't been able to catalog before they were healed,
"Are you sure you're okay?" Dick asked, as if he heard all of Darren's coughing attacks,
"I'm fine," Darren insisted, "…just wrecked a pretty nice car on my way down,"
"Did you even look where you were jumping?" Tim asked incredulously. Darren opted not to answer him, he'd meant it to be funny but there was a note of concern in his friend's voice…and if Darren could hear it so could the others and if Tim felt that way about a Talon who could heal from almost everything then so could the others. It didn't sit right with Darren…perhaps it wasn't the right way to go about the mission, but the end results were what they had wanted…why were the Bats so upset?
"Ren—?" Dick questioned as if wanting to hear the answer,
"What is this, pick on Renegade night? It was one explosion…I got what we needed," Darren muttered, clenching his gloved hand into a fist trying not to let his frustration get the better of him,
"Aside from the fact that now the Falcones know we're onto them?" Tim's voice pulled Darren from his inspection of the suit, and his inner turmoil,
"Yes, and stealing their dossiers wouldn't have tipped them off that we are onto them at all?" Darren drawled with an eye roll,
"That's not the point," Tim growled, "You—,"
"Boys, enough. Renegade meet up with Red Robin. Hand off the information, then head back in and fuel up. Come out to join us again if we're not already turning in for the night as it is," Batman's command left the rest of the Bats silent. With a frown Darren grabbed the dossiers from the pavement, hurrying over to the meeting point Bruce had sent through on the holographic computer built into his suit's gauntlet.
Darren landed softly on the rooftop a few blocks from the explosion he'd dodged, eyeing the back of Tim's form as he looked out into the cityscape of Gotham as if stargazing…or perhaps Tim was just lost in thought. The files were arranged so they covered the bloody hole in Darren's suit. Whether Darren was purposefully hiding the hole wasn't really the most significant question…of course Darren was holding the files to hide the hole in his suit. The significant question was why…for some reason, Darren felt like he was in trouble. Not in trouble with Dick or even Bruce…for some reason Darren felt like Tim was upset with him and he didn't know why. It was a strange feeling not to be concerned about the opinions of actual adults but rather that of your friend. The thought brought a flash of irritation to top off Darren's already slightly agitated mood…being thrown from a building was not fun, nor had it been Darren's intention. Tim was acting as if he sabotaged their mission on purpose when, in actuality, he'd completed their objective,
"Red," Darren called lightly, trying to pull any irritation he had from in his voice…he didn't want to be angry with Tim nor did he want his friend angry at him, but Darren had been finding it harder and harder to keep the emotions he felt in check, at least presently things had been happening too fast and too soon for Darren to keep up with—emotionally...mentally.
Darren tried not to think about what happened when spending the night with Livia, but it filtered through marring anything else he was feeling with the all-familiar thrum of anxiety. It had been a moment of vulnerability, a slip up…something Daren shouldn't have let happen, but he just couldn't sit there in the aftermath of their evening enduring the flash of unwanted and unwarranted memories that assaulted him in that very intimate moment. Of course, Livia knew what went wrong…she knew why he behaved that way and why he reacted poorly to his own actions. Darren had fallen back on the toxic behaviors he'd shared with Sophie. The shame and embarrassment felt in that moment of realization overshadowed the deeper, more gut-wrenching memories that flooded Darren's mind in realizing exactly what he'd been trying to get out of his time with Livia…a distraction, a release from the pain and anger and hurt he'd been feeling since returning from Metropolis.
Livia had understood what had happened, why it had happened…but Darren couldn't comprehend why she didn't understand what happened after. Livia knew Darren's secret…they had made no promises regarding that fact only Tim held that promise 'to try' over Darren's head and yet Livia seemed upset to find Darren there in the bathroom hidden away. In all honesty, Darren didn't know how he ended up there, how he'd gotten to that point…it wasn't foggy exactly, that would touch too closely to his time in the Nest, but Darren knew the impulse had been built up by the need for control over himself and his environment…there were too many volatile emotions clanging around in his head, silently screaming within himself, to keep it all together. It had been driven by a need for peace. And Livia…she didn't get that…and the shame and dread Darren felt in that moment convinced him that no one would get it or him or his actions to cope. Which is why that was a secret, it's why Darren needed, desperately needed, to keep that a secret.
Not much was said afterward. Livia was quiet, seemingly subdued in thought, and Darren left too early in the morning for them to discuss anything. Driven more so by the anxiety and tension that shrouded him from being found in such a compromising situation than anything else. That moment, from the night before, rested as an uneasy chasm between them still…one both Darren and Livia were unsure of how to cross,
"The files?" Tim questioned. Darren blinked, starting slightly at seeing Tim standing right there before him in seemingly an instant despite having measuredly crossed over from the other side of the rooftop upon hearing his name. Tim regarded Darren with a slight frown on his face and the sinking feeling in Darren's gut roiled harshly…though it might have just been the hunger from healing,
"Right, here," Darren stated, holding out the folders for Red Robin to take, "I also nabbed some information from the computers, it's here on this drive," Tim's morphed from a mildly guarded expression to one of slight surprise as Darren handed him the flash drive from the pocket,
"Oh, good thinking," Tim murmured, a measured pause settled between them as Tim glanced over at Darren after pocketing the flash drive himself, perhaps cataloging the now exposed hole in his suit as well as the scruff and burn marks from the explosion, "Good work." It was genuine praise, and Darren took it with some relief,
"Great…I'll just go then, gotta eat and all," Darren turned on his heel and started for the edge of the rooftop when Tim's voice rung urgently from behind,
"Renegade…wait," Darren paused, one foot up on the raised edge of the rooftop a question in his gaze, "You…you should be more…more careful," Tim phrased himself cautiously, something that put Darren slightly on edge. What had brought this on?
"What do you mean?" Darren questioned, puzzled. Turning to face Tim entirely,
"You…can't just fling yourself carelessly off or out of buildings," Tim started,
"Red, I'm a Talon—," Darren interrupted lightly, trying to grin away his friend's concerns. It was the truth, he healed quite quickly…the others were more at risk than Darren was at the moment, "—And it's not like the rest of you are any better,"
"Yes, I know you're a Talon. We all know you're a Talon. You know you're a Talon but what you don't know, or I guess don't see, is that being a Talon doesn't make you invulnerable!" Tim practically hissed, agitation crossing his features, bleeding into his body language,
"Where is this coming from! I was fine! I am fine. That drop means nothing…it didn't hurt, I couldn't feel it—,"
"And that's the problem!" Tim exasperated, running a hand through his hair and letting out a breath as if trying to calm himself, "You can't feel it…you can't feel pain, so it doesn't matter to you, the danger you put yourself into doesn't matter. You said Talons sometimes forget what pain is like, but I wonder if they also forget the danger that comes long before any pain,"
"What does that have to do with anything? I had a mission…I got it done!" Darren, irritation growing stronger by Tim's tone as well as his friend's own anger, gestured insistently to the folders Tim held wishing that the sudden gravity weighing their conversation didn't feel so much like an attack. Discomfort dug its claws in Darren as well as a sudden sense of overloaded tension, a smattering of irritation, frustration, and defensiveness tossed in as well,
"I discussed that mission with you inside and out…you could do it in your sleep. It was an easy in and out…you might not have even needed to trigger the bomb to get what we wanted," Tim's words bumbled out as if he couldn't help but let everything out now that it was just the two of them, no interference from the rest of the Bats…no prying ears to delve into the secrets the two of them shared, "You keep throwing yourself in these dangerous situations…why? What do you think you get from them that we can't help you with? What are you trying to do?"
"What situations?! I'm a vigilante…it's my—our—job to keep people safe. Our job to put ourselves in such 'dangerous' situations," Darren's voice was raised, loud in his ears…they were full-on arguing,
"Three and a half weeks ago, you had a building dropped on you and a few other hostages by Two-Face. You held it up long enough for each of them to escape, it took hours, despite deep contusions, a broken arm, and a lot of broken ribs. You slept for nearly twelve hours trying to heal from that,"
"That's—,"
"—Two and a half weeks ago," Tim went on, oblivious to Darren's attempt at deflection, "An assassin tried to take out Nightwing, you pushed him out of the way and the bullet nearly hit you instead, skimmed right by your temple. You couldn't see it, but I could. You went on planning to assassinate the assassin most likely, unfazed by what just happened but Nightwing stopped you…a headshot can and will kill you, Darren, as can a very quick hard fall which happened tonight. You can't heal if your brain is mush!"
A tremor sounded in Tim's voice, faint and unsteady…Darren almost couldn't hear it…and all at once he realized Tim's anger came from his fear. Tim was worried for Darren, worried about him…and his frustration and agitation only came because he was scared,
"I can't think like that Red…if I did, if I stopped and thought like that I'd snap, I'd split in two. If I can heal…then there is no risk," Darren couldn't help but hold onto his anger, directing it to the fact that Tim didn't trust him to take care of himself, focusing on the fact that Tim didn't think he could see the full picture of his actions and decisions,
"There is a risk. I've seen that risk up close and personal. Don't forget I've been there almost every single time you've nearly died!" Tim's expression was pained as well as thunderous, a combination of remorse and almost desperate anger,
"I can't afford to hesitate…I can't be cautious, there's an entire assassin organization that wants me dead or back in their thrall as a puppet...they'll break me if they could…again…it already happened but they'll do it over and over and over again because they have the capability to do so!" Darren's tone was harsh and Tim look taken aback by such an outburst, "And because of that I can't afford to break by mere mundane threats. They'll see that…they'll use that…I can't bear that. My freedom is fleeting…my freedom is on a tightrope Red…and I'm the only one standing up there between the Court and that freedom, the only way to save myself is to keep the Court at bay...so I can't let anything seem like too much or they'll know it…they'll use it,"
There was more Darren wanted to say, it bubbled in his chest and tickled at his tongue…everything he felt in the face of winning his freedom urging to be released. All the fears, hopes, dreams…all muddled in a sea of unforgiving turbulent emotions that Darren couldn't quite react to or with. Darren didn't trust himself to say more…not when he wasn't sure what he felt himself. With a grimace Darren clenched his teeth, curling his hands into tight fists reaching a tipping point within himself,
"Ren—," Tim started, a touch of wariness in his tone, as if he realized what their shouting match may have—for the moment—cost them both,
"I'm going to keep the Court at bay…it's all that there is, I have to keep going, keep fighting them as they fight me, and it has to be enough."
With that Darren turned, irritation still thrumming within, and threw a line zipping away from Tim, from their conversation, from confronting anything that had more bearing than Darren wanted to admit. Only barely hearing the light and meek final words from a wary and concerned Tim,
"But you're not alone in this."
The food helped, perhaps more so the cookies Alfred had cooling on the countertop in the kitchen upon Darren's arrival to the darkened manor, to ease Darren's irritation. He didn't understand Tim's frustration with his actions, though from what Darren could wager, it seemed his friend was convinced he had a death wish. In actuality Darren would prefer not to die…it wasn't his fault that their lives revolved around danger, it wasn't his fault that the entirety of an assassin organization wanted him dead or worse back under their control if they had the chance. Maybe Tim didn't see the gravity of their situation…in involving the Bats, Darren made them a target just as much as he was to the Court of Owls. If Darren faltered, if he looked weak or unsure or not in control…their careful planning would unravel. Darren couldn't have that on his conscious. The Bats' safety was dependent on Darren's ability to control the Court and right now, if the assumption he came to on the Talon dagger was fact, that carefully constructed control was wavering. If what Darren thought was correct, Lydia was pushing against the parameters he'd put forth testing to see what could pass undetected. Looking to find holes in Darren's so-called monopoly on all things Court of Owls.
That was why Darren found himself in his room, still dressed as Renegade, shoving a Talon dagger into his belt. Hidden from sight but well within reach. Darren wasn't sure how the Bats would react to seeing such a weapon on his person…though they knew Darren preferred to work with bladed weapons rather than blunt instruments like Dick's Eskrima sticks. Darren occasionally went out with the dual blades Slade had gifted him…a moment that seemed like eons ago when that only happened a year ago, time was odd, and Darren didn't think he'd ever get used to the enormity of time he supposedly had.
It felt wrong to wear the Talon dagger on his person, it almost paralyzed him as Darren considered the damage the weapon could do…both literally and metaphorically. So, Darren stood there, in the center of his room, glaring down at the floorboards where so many of his hidden treasures remained, thinking about his actions. Considering his decision to confront Lydia. Darren needed answers, yet he wondered whether delivering the proof and demanding an explanation was the best approach. Would giving up the dagger prove that Darren was unable to manage his blackmail? Would it prove to Lydia that things could go on as they had unnoticed by him until it was too late? Would it make him seem unobservant, unvigilant, and lenient? On the other hand, it would force Lydia's actions, if any into the light. Darren could threaten repercussions, and if that didn't work…there were other ways to make Lydia malleable.
Darren let out a breath he only then realized he'd been holding, trying to calm his wandering nerves. It was confusing sometimes, to jump from irritation and anger to uncertainty and anxious worry…things he could identify…things he could feel, understand, perhaps at times live with though he knew from experience those emotions could stray into something more mentally demanding than he could bear. It was a damaging balance, and something Darren couldn't always maintain. Darren didn't want to face Lydia…he didn't think he could after what happened with Shepard, after all that brought up. But he had to, Darren needed to keep the Court in line. They couldn't be operating behind his back; they couldn't be recruiting behind his back…it would jeopardize everything. Once they even got a taste of their old power, the Owls would be restless, they would be determined to gain back what they had lost because of Darren…taking the Bats down with him in the process.
So, Darren let out another sigh, curling his hand into a fist. Darren could be mad at Tim or focus that energy on dealing with Lydia…into protecting his family and Gotham as well as himself. He needed an outlet for the anger and frustration he felt, not just from his argument with Tim, from the anger and shame directed at himself from the mortifying instant the night before where his secret was rediscovered in a way Darren had never intended. He needed a release and one that was productive. Like Dinah had told Darren, taught him, he can redirect his emotions…focusing them into outlets that are healthy. What Darren felt was valid, but how he reacted…what he did…was up to him and the impact of what he felt depended on what route he took,
"Uh…Dare?" Darren jerked, slightly embarrassed to be caught just standing in his dark room, turning to face the source of the voice. Tim stood in the doorway, disrupting the illuminating light spread across the floorboards from the hallway, "Can we talk?"
Darren was perplexed. On one hand, he was surprised Tim wanted anything to do with him after their argument while on patrol, on the other Darren desperately wanted to get this conversation with Lydia over with. Darren was practically vibrating the nervous energy, his fingers twitching—uncurled—by his sides. Darren swallowed thickly, letting out a rough cough before answering,
"Uh sure…I guess?" Tim tilted his head, letting it rest lightly against the doorframe, with his arms crossed as if considering his response. It appeared patrol had ended without Darren; Tim was dressed for comfort in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Darren was sure Tim had noted the Renegade suit he still wore but knew to circle around the obvious, taking a longer route to what he truly wanted to discuss with Darren…it was a method the Bats knew worked well with him much to Darren's slight dismay, they knew him too well…it was disconcerting,
"I'm sorry about before," Tim stated finally, pausing to state his piece with care, "I guess it's just difficult to know a secret that no one else knows—,"
"—You promised to keep my secret," Darren insisted sharply, panic unsettling and cold washing over him. Darren took a step back away from Tim and the light-framed floor as if regressing, stepping deeper into himself…into the shadows,
"—That's not my point," Tim answered calmly, though a flicker of annoyance mingled with concern crept over his face…but it was gone in a flash and for a second Darren had to wonder if he were the one truly wearing a mask in that moment. Darren knew Tim was unhappy keeping the secret of his self-harm from the others, but Tim also didn't understand the near-crippling fear, and the specific fears, Darren had regarding it coming to light before he was ready. Though deep down both Darren and Tim knew he'd never be ready for that no matter how hard Darren tried to fool himself,
"My point is that because of that, because of this secret we share, and because of your past…injuries…I forget that you are stronger than we are. I forget that you are invulnerable compared to us. We think so hard and carefully about the risks because we have to…you don't necessarily have to think like that…and it's hard to remember that when we're out there," Tim finished, searching Darren's face for some kind of reaction,
"I'm sorry too. For getting upset. I know that there are limits to what I can do…I've felt them, I've lived them. I was…upset because of other things not just our argument and I took it out on you. I know I can be reckless…but I take those risks, so you guys don't have to. I'm not as fallible as you are, I've got your back and you always have mine…I know that." Tim looked relieved, if not with a glimmer of surprise in his bright blue eyes at Darren's calm response,
"Good…," Tim replied, seeming unsure of their amiable ending, "I…I don't like it when we argue," Darren it out a scoffing chuckle,
"Neither do I," he agreed,
"We're done for the night…Alfred will have a cow if he sees you in uniform outside the Cave," Tim finally stated, nodding at Darren's Renegade outfit. Darren gave a glancing grimace at himself and decided…for the sake of not having another argument about this later…to tell Tim the truth,
"I need to speak with Lydia," Tim raised an eyebrow, shock flickering across his face before morphing into a stoic considering frown,
"About?" he pressed for answers and Darren could practically feel the ice-cold metal of the Talon dagger against his hip through the carefully crafted belts around his middle. Darren couldn't tell Tim the complete truth…no matter how much he wanted to, perhaps even needed to, get the concept—the impact—of the Talon dagger out of his mind. Tim wouldn't understand, he wouldn't trust him and worst of all…he'd want to come with him. No one else should be in the crosshairs…this was Darren's responsibility, and Lydia would see anyone there beside Darren as a weakness to exploit. Tim also might not like the person he needed to become—the Talon Darren needed to be—to make Lydia comply,
"Nothing…nothing significant yet. I don't want to tip our hand, not completely and not yet." Tim considered Darren's response and perhaps the nervous agitation Darren radiated—frowning as he realized Darren had dodged a true explanation—before slowly but decisively nodding,
"Fine. But if you're not back in an hour, I'm coming after you…no, worse, I'll send Dick after you," Tim pointed a finger at Darren, emphasizing the severity of his threat,
"That's cruel," Darren sighed,
"It's well deserved," Tim stated, his grin morphing into a yawn as he turned away, glancing back with a slight relieved grin on his face "Good night Darren…and, good luck."
Darren numbly returned the grin, mirroring the gesture emptily…feeling it leave his face the moment his friend left the outskirts of the room. Only dread now remained…dread in facing the Court of Owl's Grandmaster.
A/N: Hope you liked this chapter!
Hmmm...there seems to be a little bit of a rift appearing between Darren and Livia, and the latter still doesn't know what to do about what she witnessed...and she also doesn't completely understand it either. Darren and Tim also had a little spat, but that was also used to show a bit more of what happened throughout the three months that aren't central in this story. There is a bit of time between the end of Nobody's Darkness and Nobody's Paradox so these insights are used to build up a bit of background where there wasn't any before. Additionally, that mini-argument was also trying to show that Tim's also been noticing slight changes in Darren's behavior as well. Both he and Livia had more insight than most, but that also doesn't mean no one else isn't noticing—you'll see this more as the story progresses. As for the exact cause of this seemingly shift in Darren's behavior, it could be honestly anything...there's been a lot of buildup 'off-screen' as well as 'on-screen' that contributes to this. This chapter also kind of shows the contrast between outward and visible changes versus minuscule or not as visible changes...things that are being picked up on which show that Darren's friends and family are picking up on the fact that he is struggling still with something even if he should be at relative peace with his control over the Court.
And while I'm writing on this...I wonder who those two strangers down by Darren's mother's grave were...hmmm?!
Also...yeah, I did not write at all this week. I had a pretty bad week, a pretty low-energy week. But I am hoping I'll get to write over this weekend, or I at least am planning on doing that. I am still on chapter 16, mostly because I felt I needed to add a section in to the chapter otherwise the flow of the storytelling would be thrown off. I am hoping to start chapter 17 this weekend as the section addition is short-ish (we'll see, I tend to just word-vomit when I write chapters, how do you think I get these chapter lengths? Lol). What I think I will end up needing to do is stop at chapter 10, go on a hiatus until I get to like chapter 26 or chapter 30 max and then start posting again; so it will be in like segments of 10 chapters. So there will still be consistency but sectioned off consistency. I hope that makes sense, and I hope you are not disappointed. This story is HUGE...and there is a lot I want to get done and put in to finish up this series.
In all I hope you guys understand and that you are enjoying the story thus far. If you have any questions, thoughts, or concerns, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. You know I love to hear how I'm doing!
