We still don't own anything used in this story, more's the pity.
-X- -X- -X- -X- -X-
"Have I lost my best friend?" Donna flew east above the city toward the ocean. He'd tried to call her once already. She knew it was Dick because the phone in her bag played the chorus of "Win" by Brian McKnight, but she hadn't wanted to talk to him when she was flying, and didn't want to land. And really, she didn't want to hear him say he was sorry in that tone that said goodbye.
He hadn't closed down after she injured him. He'd been willing to jest about that part, much to her horror. No, it had been something she'd said later when she wasn't really listening to her own words that caused him to shut her out.
Below her, Dick's city was a maze of river, sea, and ugly, dirty buildings. If she were sane she'd want away from the cesspool as fast as possible. But, the city seemed to hold her. She worried that if she flew too fast or too far the tenuous thread between herself and Dick would snap forever.
Donna chose an outcropping of rock out in the bay just southeast of Bludhaven. A weedy park hugged the nearby shoreline, but if anyone played there in the daylight hours, they clearly avoided the place at night. The park was dark and deserted, the rocks beyond its shore lonely. Still, she landed lightly on one of the boulders and sat clutching her knees to her chest, trying to imagine life without her best friend.
Why, after so many years, had she failed to keep up her guard around him? Why had they, now of all times, wound up in bed?
He'd been offering support and comfort when he wrapped his arm around her. She'd been thinking about the vial and choosing a man to spend forever with when she rested her head against his shoulder. The moment reminded her of when he hugged her right before walking her down the aisle to marry Terry. Then she'd been thinking she was giving up any chance to touch Dick as more than a friend. Tonight she'd been thinking this would be her last chance and she didn't want to pass it up again. So, when Dick kissed her, she didn't fight the desire that sparked inside her.
The heat had been lightning hot, a white flash all the way through her body. They both felt the jolt. His body shivered with it as much as hers did. And, as she'd always feared it would, touching him had caused her to lose him entirely.
She couldn't face the emptiness that thought brought her. She'd been friends with Dick longer than anyone. Life without him looked so lonely. It was ironic that the ambrosia, that thing that was supposed to prevent her eternal loneliness, had ruined her longest and best relationship.
Except it wasn't the ambrosia, she reminded herself. If she were brutally honest, she had to accept that she had destroyed her friendship with Dick. She shouldn't be surprised, either. Look how her other relationships had turned out.
Only… she'd never done that, had she? She'd never honestly looked at her relationships to see what had happened and, perhaps, why they turned out as they did. There had to be some common thread to those disasters. If she found it, she might figure out how to salvage her friendship with Dick.
That, she realized, was an uncharacteristically methodical thought for her. It must be her focus on Dick and his approach to problems. He'd be methodical, and probably quote the Cheshire Cat. So she'd begin at the beginning, and the beginning was Roy Harper.
Roy had been the best introduction to the ways of sex any woman could've had. As a girl newly arrived from an exclusively female island Donna had appreciated that. She and Roy were lovers who stayed friends, a successful relationship in its way. The only affair she could call a success, really. But, that was because things had never been serious with Roy. Neither of them ever wanted more than friendship and pleasure.
Terry was different. Terry had been serious. An older man, he'd allowed, even encouraged, her to be the girl she could seldom allow herself to be among the Titans. She'd felt such relief when with him. Being the Amazon, the Titan, the superhero all demanded so much. She'd had no place to just be. Terry made her believe he wanted just Donna the woman. Only, in the end, that wasn't what he wanted at all.
Donna felt her fists clench when she thought about how it had all ended. The marriage, and later his life. He'd taken her son twice, first when he'd won sole custody in their divorce, and then with him into death. He'd taken her anger too, when he died, because how could she be angry when she was grieving?
But she was angry, and she could admit it for the first time, here at the outskirts of what was arguably the angriest city on Earth. She was angry that he'd taken her youth, her trust, and twisted them for his own purposes. Perhaps he'd felt intimidated by her, as if he were inferior. Perhaps if she'd had the vial even two months ago, Terry would still be alive and, enhanced, they could solve the issues of their marriage.
"No." She nearly shouted the rejection to the dark ocean. Her joys with Terry had been fleeting, her pain from his selfishness long and hard. And it had been selfishness on his part, she could admit that now. She never knew everything he really wanted from her, but certainly part was his desire to tap her knowledge of the gods to advance his own career, and the boost his ego got from being married to a young Amazon woman. Whatever else he desired, she hadn't been able to give it to him. And when she failed him, he turned on her. He took everything she cared about.
Even if he were alive she'd never give Terry the ambrosia. She'd given so much to him. She didn't owe him the gift intended to bring her future happiness as well.
Regret flashed briefly through her mind that Bobby died before she received the vial, but that choice would have been as wrong as offering the gift to Terry. Donna would gladly have given her own life, immortal or not, to save her child. However, the gods had made clear the vial was for her life partner, not her son. To choose the wrong person would be a disaster, Diana had impressed that fact upon her. Painful as it would have been were he alive, the gift could never have belonged to Bobby.
Besides, she was getting off track. She was supposed to be analyzing her relationships for the cause of failure. So far, however, she'd found nothing of any use. She and Roy had merely had fun together, but they had parted as friends. With Terry she'd allowed herself to fall in love. The divergent endings of those two relationships stood out as sharply as the orange streaks blazing dawn across the purple eastern sky.
She was no closer to understanding where she'd failed before, or with Dick tonight. Nor, she had to accept, was she nearer to figuring out what she wanted in a relationship. She had no more idea what to do with the vial now than she had when she arrived in Bludhaven.
Maybe Dick was wrong. Maybe love wasn't the answer.
Oddly, that thought made her think of Kyle.
He hadn't loved her. He'd loved the idea of her, of being with her, but he hadn't loved her. Why hadn't he loved her?
Donna cast her thoughts back over that relationship, brief as it had been. With the clarity and distance of hindsight, she searched for the cause of failure.
She'd had fun with Kyle. From a ride in a horse and carriage generated by his power ring to a picnic on Mars -- she'd had fun. With shame, she saw that Kyle had created most of that fun. She'd been such a wet blanket with him. She'd nagged him constantly about responsibility. Frankly, she'd treated him the way Terry had treated her. Perhaps she'd been trying too hard to shed the naïve girl who couldn't please her husband. Whatever her reasons, she'd made Kyle feel constrained and manipulated, much as she felt in her marriage.
She'd been to blame for their breakup. If she'd just let her fun side out to play, as she had with Roy, things would have been better.
"Win" broke the silence again. Resolutely, Donna ignored the phone in her bag. She'd begun this examination because she was afraid she'd lose her friendship with Dick, but the fact he continued to call suggested that fear had been unfounded. He still wanted contact. She hadn't lost him at all. When she called him back, they would talk, probably laugh about how stupid they'd both been, and move on. As they always did. She should have just trusted Dick not to abandon her.
She pulled out the phone after it had stopped ringing, almost called up his number. Then, she paused. Now wasn't the time. Her thoughts had taken her to Kyle, and possibly to the solution to her problem with the ambrosia.
He was the man Diana assumed she would choose as recipient. And Diana was, or had been, goddess of Truth. And, if Donna's own stodginess were the cause of their breakup, that was easily repaired. Wasn't it?
She scrolled through the phone's directory to K. This was good. This was a step toward an answer. Even if she never mentioned the vial to him, she should mend the break with Kyle. They hadn't really spoken since that horrible day in his apartment, and she hated leaving that wound unbandaged.
The phone was already ringing when she realized she was calling at an insanely early hour, especially for people in the super-heroing business.
"Mmf. Donna?" He sounded drowsy. "Is the world exploding?"
"No."
"Then why're you calling me at --" she heard a rustle -- "four thirty a.m.?"
"It's important." That sounded lame to her own ears. Try again, Donna, and remember not to be stodgy. "I forgot it was so early, Kyle. I'm sorry. I'll call back."
"No." He almost shouted into the phone. "I don't mean to be a grouch. I was just asleep. If it's important, I can meet you. Give me an hour, no half, to shower?"
"All right." She agreed to his suggested place and time.
Her scalp tingled a little as she closed her phone. After all the hurt it felt good to hope.
-X-
Dick had seen many expressions on Alfred Pennyworth's face over the years. The one that he knew best was the one he saw now as Alfred opened the door to Wayne Manor: nonplussed bemusement.
"Yes, I know, I forgot my keys," Dick said. He'd rushed from his apartment with barely a shout to his landlady, Clancy, to call the police, and then driven to Gotham. "Nothing to worry about, Alfred."
"I am merely disappointed." Alfred stepped aside to let Dick enter. "I thought you liked my coffee, Master Dick."
"Of course I like your coffee, Alfred." Where had that come from?
"That --" Alfred raised one elegant eyebrow in the direction of his left hand -- "is not my coffee."
"Strictly speaking, Alfred, I'm not sure it's coffee." Dick held the carafe gently so as not to spill any of the contents. It might well be a bitter concoction capable of giving a person immortality and super powers. And wouldn't that be fun to explain if Bruce was around?
"Ah, good. If it were coffee, I would be compelled to ask why it's not in a Thermos."
Dick chuckled politely at Alfred's humor and crossed the front hall. As always, it echoed with his footsteps. "I'm just going to take my non-coffee downstairs."
"I shall bring you some of the genuine article, sir." There was the briefest hesitation in Alfred's voice as they reached the downstairs library. "Do you also require a shirt?"
Dick glanced down at his bare torso. He'd avoided pulling on another shirt before he left to save his sore shoulder the twisting. Alfred had to have noticed the spreading bruise, but that didn't mean Dick cared to explain it. "I was in a rush when I left home. It's not an emergency." He crossed the room to the concealed entrance to the Batcave. "Is he down there?"
"I believe he is still resting from his evening's adventures. But he has an early meeting this morning, so he should be awake soon."
"Thanks." Dick hoped that was a Bruce-version of 'soon' rather than an Alfred-version of 'soon.' He really didn't want to explain the reason for his visit any more than his injury.
He switched on the working lights in the cave as soon as the elevator came to a stop. To his right banks of computers, and other technical apparatuses, whirred and hummed efficiently. Ahead of him the Batmobile and Bat-cycles rested quiet in their bays. To the left he could see just the corners of the gym and equipment storage areas. He knew every crevice and cranny as well as he knew his own name and better than he knew the maze of rooms upstairs.
As always, the cave was cool and damp and strangely welcoming in ways the mansion upstairs never managed. Upstairs was "the manor," formal and proper, befitting Gotham's wealthiest citizen and his ward and heir. This cavern had always been their true home.
Dick shook off the bout of nostalgia. He had possibly-blessed coffee and an asbestos sample to test.
One of the many benefits of the Wayne fortune was that it allowed Bruce -- and by extension Dick -- access to bleeding edge technology. Prototypes of various machines borrowed from WayneTech were lined up along the wall of the cave beyond the computer bank, some large enough to be free-standing, others resting on a long table. At the moment, Dick was interested solely in the broad reaction monitoring liquid-to-gas chromatograph-spectrometer. He'd have to run the tests in sequence, but the machine should be able to answer the questions he had.
Most important among those questions was, had the vial leaked ambrosia into his day-old coffee?
He used a pipette to draw liquid from the carafe. Then he inserted the sample in the machine. And then he had nothing to do but wait. Dick leaned back in a chair and propped his feet on the table where the spectrometer rested. Much like a character in one of his favorite movies, Dick hated waiting for anything. So, he used the dead time to mentally shift around what clues he possessed.
For once he knew who he was looking for. He'd known for a month that Benny disappeared on Blockbuster's orders. The goons who broke into Dick's apartment tonight sure looked like they belonged to the same man. So the real question was, did the fact that both events led back to Blockbuster mean the attack and Benny were connected?
Dick couldn't imagine why or how. The object of the attack had been Donna's ambrosia, that much was obvious. And Benny had been paying off his gambling debt digging asbestos in a mine. Maybe it was a coincidence that Blockbuster had been involved in both. Then again, Bruce had taught him not to believe in the tooth fairy or coincidence.
The sound of the elevator heralded Alfred's arrival. "Your coffee, sir."
"Thanks." He took the cup. The butler's coffee might not help anyone fly, but the warmth and flavor eased some of Dick's tension and helped him think. "Alfred, do you know anything about the old Kreder mine up in the 'Haven?"
Alfred placed a neatly-folded shirt on the table near Dick's feet. "The Waynes were never in the habit of associating with people like Johann Kreder."
"What do you know about him?" The mine had to be important, even if it had no connection to the attempted theft of Donna's vial. Blockbuster was willing to forgive Benny a four grand debt, not including interest, for a month's work there.
"He was an ex-Nazi, probably a principal in Bludhaven's then-fledgling organized crime, a most unpleasant man." Alfred managed to convey his well-bred disgust by inflection alone. "The Kreder mine was the last of Bludhaven's enterprises to shut down when asbestos proved deadly. In addition, Johann Kreder was rumored to have developed an interest in the occult during his work for the Nazis that never waned."
"So, we've got magic, crime, and poison to choose from," Dick mused more to himself than Alfred. Sometimes having too much to work with was worse than too little. He needed to narrow things down a bit. "Any particular branch of the occult?"
Alfred paused, his expression thoughtful. "You do tax an old man's memory, Master Dick. But I believe it had to do with ancient religions, the original forms not the modern-day recreations."
"The real thing." That sounded uncomfortably like a connection to Donna's vial. Tenuous, perhaps, but still a connection. One he'd have to explore, no matter how much it hurt.
"If I'd known you were coming, I'd've waited up."
Dick glanced over his shoulder at a bathrobe-clad Bruce, who had somehow managed to make the elevator operate silently. "If I'd known I was coming, I'd've worn a shirt."
"Problems in Bludhaven? And is that coffee?"
"Yes and no. In that order."
Bruce paused with his hand near the pot Dick had brought from Bludhaven. "What is it?"
"Not drinkable." The last thing he needed was for Bruce to drink the coffee if it were tainted. Donna would never forgive him. "I'm running it through analysis right now."
"We've analyzed stranger things," Bruce said. He put both hands in the pockets of his robe, apparently no longer interested in tasting the contents of the carafe. Dick released a held breath. "Why are you analyzing coffee?"
"I've also got asbestos from the Kreder mine to look at. Roland Desmond is up to something that involves the mine."
Bruce had wandered over to the spectrometer to watch the machine's progress. "Any ideas what?"
"Not yet." Dick had to decide how much to tell Bruce. No doubt his skills would be an asset, but Donna had been uncomfortable with Bruce holding and, he had to assume, knowing too much about the ambrosia. Dick didn't want to betray her trust. Further, he could see the reason for her concern. How would Bruce's paranoia explode if he knew a vial full of super-potion was floating around? "Desmond also attacked my apartment earlier, which is why I'm here so abruptly."
"You mess up your shoulder in the fight?"
Dick glanced down at his shoulder -- his swollen, purpling shoulder. "It didn't happen in the fight. I handled them with a frying pan."
"Cast iron?" Alfred asked.
Dick grinned at him. "Only kind worth having. The ten inch saved my life."
"But the coffee needed to be analyzed." Bruce had pulled up the finished report and studied it frowning. "Really bad coffee."
"You taught me to make it." Dick looked at the report and exhaled, relieved. It was, in fact, coffee with no added benefits.
"What did you think it was poisoned with? Do you think Desmond treated it? Is your identity compromised?"
"I'm not sure what to call it. No. And no, I don't think Desmond knows Dick Grayson is Nightwing. If he even suspected, he would have sent more than two third-rate goons to take me out."
"Two third-rate goons who didn't injure you."
"Right."
He watched the subtle shift in Bruce's shoulders that meant his mentor and surrogate father had relaxed. "Why do you have asbestos from the Kreder mine?"
Briefly, Dick summarized Benny's story while he inserted the asbestos sample into the spectrometer. "Desmond is looking for something there."
That was a leap of logic Dick had to review after he said it. Benny had suggested that in their conversation, but there was no other evidence for it. Still, in his gut, Dick knew he was right.
"What's he looking for?" Bruce asked. "Assuming it's not bad coffee."
"Not coffee. Truthfully, it's just a hunch I'm working on. I could be completely wrong. Benny thought Desmond might be planning to poison the mayor."
"Too insignificant a target. That's not Desmond's style." Bruce paused. "Though if you mixed asbestos with that coffee, you might get something really potent."
"There might be other things he could mix the asbestos with." Dick frowned.
"Approach it from a different angle. If he wasn't after Nightwing, why did Blockbuster break into Dick Grayson's apartment?"
"Yeah. Well." Dick paused. He'd have to explain that carefully. "Donna came by to ask me about a problem she has, and while we were talking, Desmond managed to hack into Barbara's temporary storage. He grabbed the video feed from my apartment just before it was encrypted."
"Don't you have the encryption equipment on site?" There was no censure in Bruce's tone, but there didn't have to be. Dick was familiar with Bruce's nuances of expression and inflection. This question, bland as it was, reminded Dick of a different part of Crane's nightmares, a part having nothing to do with failing Donna as a husband and everything to do with not living up to Bruce's example.
"Not yet," Dick answered. To Bruce's look, he added somewhat defensively, "The chances of anyone getting anything interesting are beyond microscopic to quantum small. Most of the feed is of me eating cereal or watching the news."
"Except for tonight." Bruce's inflection didn't change, but Dick took it for the rebuke it was. "How does Donna's problem interest Blockbuster?"
"Wrong angle." Dick smiled at the opportunity to throw Bruce's words back at him. It didn't happen often. "There's no reason for Desmond to be looking at a nobody's apartment. And Dick Grayson is a nobody in Bludhaven. I'm a bartender there. No, Desmond was after something from Barbara -- from Oracle. If we can figure out what that is, we can figure out why Donna's problem interests him."
"Why don't you want to tell me about Donna's problem?"
"Because it's none of your business." Dick knew Bruce wasn't trying to take over the case. Bruce didn't want to take over anything in his life. He'd resolved those issues when he worked through Crane's nightmares. Bruce just wanted to help, but in this case, Dick couldn't let him.
"It's part of the case now." That wasn't Bruce talking anymore. The set of his jaw meant Batman had taken over.
"We need to call Barbara to see if she can shed more light on the situation." In some things, especially where people he cared about were concerned, Dick could out-stubborn even the Bat. He rose and turned toward the computer. He heard Bruce's intake of breath, as though his mentor were going to continue the argument. Surprisingly, Bruce stayed quiet as Dick opened the connection to Barbara.
"Late even for you, isn't it, B?" Barbara's face appeared on the screen as she was rubbing one eye. A moment later, she slid her glasses into place and blinked at him. Her eyes widened. "Oh, hi, Dick."
He probably should have taken the time to put on the shirt Alfred had brought him, Dick thought, but now he wouldn't bother. "We're trying to track down what Desmond might've been looking for when he got the feed from my apartment."
Barbara's image on the screen looked past him to where Bruce stood. "Did you tell him to get that encryption equipment installed?"
"You did, he did, I'll do it, all right?" Dick let some of the frustration bleed over into his voice. The lack of encryption equipment was less important than figuring out Blockbuster's plans. In the back of his brain a voice nagged him to think about Donna's problem too, but he wouldn't here, or now, and not just because Donna didn't want Bruce to know about the vial. He didn't want the others to see his feelings on that topic.
"Do you have any idea why Desmond is interested in the old Kreder mine?" Bruce asked.
She put on her thinking scowl as she punched commands into her computers. "Only thing down there is asbestos and … hello, urban legends."
"Might as well have urban legends to go with the others," Dick muttered. "Which ones in this case?"
"Kreder was a Nazi," Barbara began.
Dick nodded. "Right, involved with the occult."
"An artifact hunter, to be exact," Barbara said. "Mostly undistinguished, except for his last expedition to the island of Delos."
A map of the island replaced her image on the screen, along with photographs of large, white stone lions backed by a brilliant Aegean sky. Barbara's voice continued, "He disappeared after that expedition, and rumor has it that he brought back some kind of super-weapon."
"That the Nazis never got a chance to use," Bruce said.
"Apparently he wasn't interested in turning his finds over." Barbara cleared her throat and continued, "He managed to arrive in Bludhaven in style, however. He transported a vast collection of Greek artifacts to his new home. The Greek government has been in court for decades trying to force the estate to return them."
"He has heirs, then?" Bruce sounded interested, and Dick knew his mentor was ranging through his memory for any mention of Kreder heirs.
Barbara shook her head. "No family. In an odd bit of philanthropy, Kreder left his collection to the Bludhaven Museum of World History. They sold some of the lesser pieces to fund a special wing to house the bulk of the collection. The museum and Kreder's attorney are defending the suit. All indications are that the attorney is dirty, but careful."
"But, there's a good chance that collection included this super-weapon when Kreder was alive," Dick finished.
"Probably," Barbara cautioned. The map on the screen dissolved back into her face. "We know that he had some special way of dealing with people who opposed his criminal activities. In securing his position as Bludhaven's first proto-crime lord, he could have used this weapon."
"Do we know where that weapon is now?" Bruce asked.
"No." Barbara sounded glum. "There's nothing about it since he died. I did find inventories of his estate from the museum, and the records of the various sales. We can --"
"Kreder wouldn't sell something like that," Dick cut her off. "He wouldn't put it in a museum either. He wouldn't even want to chance it falling into the wrong hands while he was still alive."
"Then what did he do with it?" Barbara demanded.
"That's what we need to figure out." Dick stood and paced the area behind the computer chair. He'd only taken three steps when he stopped and looked at Bruce. "He dumped it in the mine."
"Of course," Bruce said. "Once the mine was closed, and deemed deadly in the process, there was no reason for anyone ever to go inside it. Kreder probably saw it as the best hiding place available."
"That's pretty thin," Barbara said. "For all we know, he could've shipped it somewhere else."
"To whom?" Dick asked. "Kreder had no children, right? Who else would you trust with a super-weapon?"
"Sirs." Alfred's voice held a note of tension Dick wasn't used to hearing. "I am by no means a chemist, but this report seems rather strange."
"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.
"This does indeed look like asbestos," Alfred said. "Except the sample seems to have sodium and iron where I expect magnesium."
"Let me see that." Bruce snatched the report from Alfred's hands and studied it. "That's the compound for blue asbestos."
"Blue?" Dick repeated. "But I thought American asbestos is white. Blue asbestos comes from Africa and Australia."
"And is a stronger carcinogen." Bruce looked up at him, his expression grim. "Is there any of the sample left?"
"Should be." Dick picked up the plastic bag he'd used to contain the sample. "A little."
"Let's get that under the microscope."
Dick loaded a slide and adjusted the eyepiece. What he saw looked darker than he had expected, even knowing this was blue asbestos instead of white. The fibers were brittle. They'd shattered into tiny fragments though he'd handled the sample as gently as he could.
"That look as bad to you as it does to me, Bruce?" He stepped back to allow Bruce to study the sample as well.
"We know that the sodium-iron molecule is more deadly than what we normally mine here in the States," Bruce said, his eyes still glued to the microscope. "These particles are finer than any I've ever seen. And --"
"And what?" Dick wished he could take the microscope back and see whatever had surprised Bruce into silence.
"But the Kreder mine contained the common white variety, guys," Barbara interrupted. "Are you sure that sample's from there?"
"I got it off Benny's shirt," Dick told her absently, still wondering at whatever Bruce was studying so intently. "He was in the mine. Stands to reason this sample is from there."
"It's moving," Bruce said suddenly.
"It's what?"
"Moving." Bruce straightened, his expression even grimmer than usual.
Dick grabbed the microscope and focused on the sample. Most people would miss the infinitesimal movement. But, the fibers did twitch. "I need to go visit that mine."
Bruce nodded agreement. "Want some company?"
Dick opened his mouth to answer, and instead of a response, a yawn came out. He stifled the reflex. He had no time for sleep, so he'd have to wake himself up. "No, thanks. Thanks for your help, Babs."
"Anytime," she replied with a smile. "Just get that encryption equipment installed, will you?"
Dick groaned as she cut the connection.
"One thing," Bruce said.
"What's that?"
"What does that sorry excuse for coffee have to do with this?"
Dick froze in place. He'd forgotten the vial in the labyrinth of clues surrounding Desmond and Kreder's mine. Instinctively, his hand went to the front pocket of his jeans where he'd tucked the thing after fishing it out of the coffee. His phone rested in the same pocket.
"I'm an idiot," he announced. Bruce didn't disagree, just looked at him with a question in his eyes. "Donna," Dick explained.
"What about her?" Bruce asked. For once, he was a half-step behind Dick instead of the other way around.
"Desmond knows I'm not a pushover now. He's probably guessed that Donna won't be, either." Dick pulled out his phone and punched Donna's number one more time. Her phone rang a half dozen times. She had super powers. She could handle herself in a fight. Still, he imagined the dozen ways that she might have been caught unaware, overpowered, even killed. His body tightened at the thought, as though it were a blow, and his mind screamed that he couldn't allow that to have happened.
When he allowed himself to look at Bruce again, he doubted he'd hidden any of his reactions. "She's still not answering. I thought she wasn't answering because -- well, that doesn't matter. But what if something's already happened to her?"
He turned toward the alcove where extra costumes and weapons were kept. Even though he was now based in Bludhaven, spares were always ready here.
"Why isn't she talking to you? You've always been great friends."
Of all the questions Bruce could ask, he had to ask one that ranked just behind "What's Donna's problem about?" on the list of questions Dick really did not want to answer. He fumbled for something that might make sense.
"Well, we --" he paused. "It's complicated."
"You slept with her." Bruce sounded certain.
"Sort of," Dick hedged. Bruce's eyebrow lifted, and Dick said, "That's why it's complicated. But I have to find her."
"Not if she's not talking to you. And especially not if she's what happened to your arm." Bruce put a hand on his good shoulder. "I'll find her."
Dick started to protest that it wasn't Bruce's problem, but Bruce overrode him. "If she doesn't want to talk to you on the phone, she really doesn't want to talk to you in person. I'll find her."
Dick let out a breath. He hated to admit it, "But you're right, you should track her down. I'll go on to the mine and see what I can find out there."
He turned toward the closet alcove again. "Now all I need is a hazmat suit. You have one I can use?"
"Only if you want it in black."