Robin
He stands in Bruce's garage that might as well be a museum, looking over the cars, trying to decide which one Dick Grayson, aloof teen of privilege should drive to the gala. Exotic?
Hmmm...
Luxury?
Hmmm...
American?
Classic?
Italian?
The thought of driving a Ferrari is pretty tempting, but he goes for a red, 66 Mustang instead.
He puts his black tuxedo jacket on the backseat, then hops in the driver side. He starts the engine and it gives a satisfying growl. Everything in the car looks old, but looks can and often are deceiving. Bruce has upgraded every single system in the car, including the radio and speakers.
Robin pulls out of the garage, and winds around the narrow road to the main entrance of the manor. He pulls onto the shoulder where the road curves closer to the house. He turns the engine off, and waits for Raven. A short time later, he turns the key, activating the accessory, then turns on the radio. The Cure's Just Like Heaven starts playing through the speakers.
He smiles, then waits a bit. Raven still hasn't come out, so he opens the door and steps out into the fresh night air. He leaves the door open and sits on the hood of the car, wearing a black vest with the white shirt and black tie, waiting.
The plan is to go undercover and blend in, try to spot the Joker, and thwart whatever devious plan he's plotting. Simple enough, right?
Robin sure hopes so, but he somehow doubts it.
The minutes tick by as he sits, waiting, drinking in the music, letting time blur.
The door to the house closes and he opens his eyes, seeing Raven coming down the front steps of the manor that looks more like a castle than a house.
She is wearing a very simple, modest, white cocktail dress, the skirt reaching down almost to her ankles.
His chest gets hot. He passes it off as anxiety from the upcoming mission.
What else would it be?
He notices that she is also wearing a shoulder length black wig. Once the fighting starts, it will be hard to explain Dick Grayson's coming to the gala with a violet haired girl on the same night that Raven was spotted at the same gala. No, the wig is necessary. The wig is slightly longer than her normal hair, but styled much the same way, except that it is swept partway to one side, partly covering her forehead.
She walks towards him looking very stiff and very uncomfortable.
Must not be used to those shoes.
She wears flats and not high-heels, because not only is she not used to them, but they are not the smartest choice for fighting.
He nods as she approaches.
She nods back, not saying anything, barely looking at him. Her face is locked into an emotionless frown.
Something is bothering her, he knows.
He drops off the hood of the car, landing on his feet. The heat in his chest grows worse the closer she gets. His eyes fix on her, and he finds himself having trouble looking away.
She stops a few steps from him, still showing no emotion. Which isn't anything new; she's often reserved. But- like before, too erect, too stiff.
Too something.
He tries to think of ways to put her at ease, uttering the first one that comes to mind.
"You look beautiful," he says.
She stiffens ever so slightly more. Most people probably wouldn't notice, but he's not most people.
"It's a nice dress," she monotones.
He nods. "Yes it is. But you always look beautiful."
Feeling like kind of an idiot, he resists itching his neck, and just smiles lightly. He was trying to put her more at ease, make her more confident, but instead, he embarrassed her.
Idiot!
"Beautiful?" she says it like it's a huge surprise.
"Of course." He sits down behind the wheel. "Ready to go?"
(******)
He drives around the winding roads, heading towards the interstate that will take them to the city.
Raven sits in the passenger side, looking out the window, neither of them talking as the radio plays on.
Streetlights blur past his vision, temporarily illuminating the car's interior, then leaving it dark again. The song ends and Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths starts playing.
The wheel feels good in his hands. The engine's rumble brings a smirk to his face, distracting him from the uneasily tightness in his gut.
"Robin?" Raven says.
"Dick," he says.
She turns to him and furrows her brows. "What?"
"You're gonna have to call me Dick while we're at the gala."
She nods.
"Right," she says.
"I guess I'll be calling you Rachel?" he says.
Raven nods a yes.
He nods and they fall into another silence.
"Dick," she says.
"Yeah?"
He watches her out of the corner of his vision, keeping his eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. She sits stiff in the passenger side- too stiff.
Why so frustrated, Raven?
Deciding patience is his best path, he waits, drinking in the music.
"Are you worried?" she finally says.
"No more than usual," he says.
She nods, then goes back to looking out her window.
But that's a lie.
Yes, he's always uneasy about missions before hand, and the waiting is always the worst part, but this is different somehow, and he doesn't know why. It's not a bad feeling. It's kind of a nervous excitement.
Raven looks his way, her violet eyes glimmering as streetlights pass.
The ache in his gut multiplies, an idea occurs to him.
It can't be.
Is it Raven? Is that why he feels so nervous? After what happened with Starfire, he hasn't even really considered pursuing another girl.
Raven gives a small smile, still looking at him.
His heart kicks against his ribs.
She looks back out her window, softly humming along to Morrisey's angsty vocals.
He starts to calm some. Driving a mustang with a beautiful girl in the passenger side, listening to 80's music- you'd have to be dead not to feel some nerves, he reassures himself.
The mission. Focus on the mission.
(******)
Raven
"Please, please, please,
let me, let me, let me... Let me get what I want this time," the song's lyrics echo in her mind.
Robin smiles lightly, guiding the car like a professional driver.
Raven feels a heat in her chest. She tries to ignore it, but can't, she considers using her power to shut it out- but she isn't sure she wants to. She kind of likes it.
The Smiths song ends, and The Promise by When In Rome starts playing. She furrows her brows.
"Where have I heard this?" she says.
Robin bites the side of his lip thinking, then snaps his finger. "Napoleon Dynamite."
She nods, remembering Beast Boy telling her how funny it was, and forcing her to watch.
Truth be told, she had a rather hard time keeping a straight face when the farmer finally got the courage to shoot the cow just as a school bus full of children passed by.
She turns her head, looking at Robin. Yellow street lights pass overhead, illuminating his features. Time blurs as the song plays on.
Robin puts his blinker on, then peeks around the back of the car and to the sides. He catches her eye, and she looks away quickly, realizing that she had been staring. Her ears start to burn, and she resists a nervous fidget.
What is the matter with me?
Why is she suddenly feeling so uncomfortable around Robin? Why can't she seem to resist the urge to stare at him?
An idea occurs to her, making her relax some.
It must be because she had been separated from him for a time, she tells herself. And in that time, he had been in great peril- possibly worse peril than any other time since she's known him; because that time, he had been truly alone to deal with a great threat. She's just very happy to have him back, and she doesn't know how to express it correctly.
Usually, when she has trouble with her feelings and understanding them she talks to Robin about it. He's patient and kind, and always manages to help her find some peace.
But can she talk to him about himself?
No, that's preposterous-
But why is that preposterous?...
It just...
It just is.
Isn't it?
"What's on your mind, Raven?" he says.
He somehow always knows when she's struggling with something. Sometimes she wonders if he's the empath.
"It's nothing," she says.
He keeps driving, not looking at her. "Right."
She resists a grumble.
"It's just," she starts, "- it's just that... I really feared the worst this time."
Robin turns halfway to offer a slight smile.
"Sorry," he says.
"No. That's not what I mean," she says. "I just... I feared I would never see you again. And now that you're back, I- It's all just so..."
"Overwhelming?" he says.
She nods. "Yes. Very."
He goes silent for a time. She watches him as the lights illuminate his figure, then leave him in darkness.
The song on the radio ends, then If You Leave by Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark starts playing.
"I think Starfire's leaving has affected us more than we'd like to admit," he says.
Him bringing Starfire into the discussion distresses her, but she doesn't know why. She shuts out the anger, trying to focus on what he says next.
"I'd love to tell you that I'll always come back, but any time I suit up brings with it the danger that I might not. The same is true for every one of us," he says.
"But that is nothing new. We all know that possibility, and we all accept that fear."
"Do we?" he says. "Do we really? No matter the danger, no matter challenge; we'd always managed to come out on top. And we'd always managed to stay whole; we'd never lost a team member. And then Starfire left."
"So?" she says, not following.
He clears his throat. "It's like when a family member dies, and you're suddenly forced to face your own mortality. You realize that it won't last forever- it can't last forever. And yet, we try to convince ourselves that it will. We live every day like tomorrow is promised to us. Starfire leaving has forced us to realize that any one of us might not always make it back, and the team itself won't last forever."
The team won't last? Thinking of a future without the titans scares her. And thinking of a future without Robin petrifies her. Never had she realized how much she relies on him- how much she depends on him.
"Do you really think the team would fold?" she says, afraid of the answer.
"Not as long as I have anything to say about it."
She smiles at his answer.
"Yeah," she says. "Same here. Even if it's just you and me."
The thought of just the two of them brings a small smile to her face. She casts the thought aside, focusing on the music instead.
"Good song," she says.
Robin nods a yes. "I've always loved this one."
She smirks and her worries fall away as she leans back in her bucket seat. Riding in a nice car, listening to good music with her best friend, heading to a gala; life is good.
(******)
Robin
He and Raven stand in the elevator, heading up to the roof of a famous skyscraper. He's been to many of these galas in his time before the titans. This gala is a fundraiser named after the late Police Commissioner Loeb. Bruce engineered it to help the families of fallen police officers.
Robin knows most all the people that are going to be here. He keeps on reminding himself; Dick and Rachel.
Dick, ward of eccentric billionaire playboy.
Rachel, beautiful student that he met at boarding school.
Dick, friend of police officers.
Rachel, pretty girl from out of town.
Dick, former boyfriend of the commissioner's daughter.
Rachel, adorable shy girl of mystery.
"Rachel," he says.
"Dick," she says.
They both nod at the same time, then the doors open. They step out onto the vast roof that looks like a lavish ballroom. The moon and stars shine bright in the sky, casting pale light down on the black tie affair. Tables with white table cloths, and a glass bar on one side, a dance floor and stage on the other. It's hard to believe how large the roof is. An orchestra plays beautiful string music into the clear night.
Dick offers Rachel his arm.
She hesitates, then loops her arm through the crux of his elbow.
A tingle runs up his arm and down to his toes at her touch; he passes it off as mission jitters.
His eyes scan the crowd, spotting all kinds of familiar faces as they thread their way through the crowd, heading towards the bar.
They reach the bar, and he holds her hand as she sits, then he takes the stool next to hers. A bartender with balding gray hair and a white tuxedo comes their way with a polite smile.
"Can we get two ginger ales?" Dick says.
The bartender nods kindly, then goes to work, getting their drinks.
"Well, well, well," a familiar voice says beside him.
He turns his head to see Detective Harvey Bullock sitting beside him. Big, loud, unkempt, unshaven: Bullock. He wears an old tux, his shirt half tucked in around his massive gut, his jacket gone, no vest, his black bow tie is untied just hanging around his neck, but he wears a really nice, wide brimmed, gray fedora with a black band. He has a toothpick in his mouth and a glass of whiskey in his hand.
"Hello, detective," Dick says. "It's been a long time."
Bullock looks over Dick's shoulder to see Rachel sitting beside him. He raises an eyebrow at Dick.
"I see you've been keeping busy," he says.
"This is Rachel," Dick says. "She goes to my boarding school. Rachel, this is detective Harvey Bullock."
"Pleasure to meet you, detective," Rachel says.
"Please," Bullock says. "Call me Harvey."
Rachel nods.
The bartender places their ginger ale on the bar. He put it in one of those tall glasses so it looks like a beer.
Dick thanks him, and takes a hold of his glass.
Someone from else from the department calls to Bullock.
He grumbles under his breath.
"Duty calls," he says. "You two try not to get in too much trouble."
He winks, then stands up and lumbers away.
"So," Dick says, "what do you think?"
He turns around in his stool and leans against the bar, eyes scanning the crowd.
Rachel does the same.
"I've never seen anything like it outside of television," she says.
He nods, eyes still scanning everything.
"See anything?" she says.
He shakes his head no. Then stands up. He motions to the dance floor.
Her eyes pop wide, then she goes back to her even expression.
He offers his arm. "Care to dance?"
She stares at his arm, not looking him in the eyes.
"I can't dance," she says.
"That's okay," he says. "Just follow my lead, you'll be fine."
She keeps her eyes on his arm.
"I can't dance," she says again.
"Hey." He keeps his tone soft.
She looks up to meet his gaze, then shakes her head no.
"Do you trust me?" he says.
She bites her lip, then shakes her head yes.
He motions to the dance floor again. "Then trust me."
She forces out a breath, then takes his arm, standing up.
He smiles, then leads her to the dance floor.
"We'll be able to see things better out here. It's not that different from fighting, and we both know how good you are at that," he says. "Plus, it will help sell our cover."
The lovely string music continues under the star cast sky, playing a slow song.
He and Rachel reach the dance floor. He takes her hand in his, then steps in closer.
She draws in a sharp breath as his arm wraps around her middle, pulling her even closer. Her freehand finds his shoulder, and for a second, they just stand there, eyes locked.
Dick picks up the beat of the song and starts off, gently guiding her along. She smells like honey and vanilla, and it is majorly killing his focus. Her body so close to his- touching his sets his blood on fire.
He had not anticipated that. He has danced many times with many different girls. This is no different, he tells himself.
He swallows the nerves, bringing his mind back into focus, eyes scanning everywhere around them. Not looking in her eyes is helping him focus again.
He doesn't see anything unusual until he spots a tall, dark haired man on the dance floor.
It's Bruce. And he is dancing with a tall, dark-haired woman, wearing a red dress. She looks familiar, but Dick can only catches glimpses of her face.
He turns his attention back to Rachel.
"You're doing great," he says.
And means it, too.
"You might not be experienced, but you are very light on your feet," he says.
"Thanks," she says barely more than a whisper. "It is a bit like fighting. And I had a good fight teacher."
They sway on the dance floor, casually looking around the room. His eyes catch Bruce and his partner again, and this time, he gets a good look at her face.
Dianna?
She and Bruce dance closely. Very closely- too closely. Their eyes are locked and it wouldn't take an empath to see all kinds of silent communication going on.
Dick leans closer to Rachel, whispering in her ear.
"Wonder Woman's here," he says.
He draws back to find Rachel's eyes closed. They snap open and she nods.
She catches his eyes again, and he can't seem to look away. He likes having her in his arms.
What?
Good grief, get a hold of yourself, man! She's a pretty girl. Of course you're gonna enjoy dancing with her.
She gazes intently into his eyes.
He resists the urge to swallow.
And together, they sway across the dance floor as time blurs around them. She rests her head on his chest, breaking eye contact, giving him a better view of the dance floor. He knows she can hear his heart thumping in his chest.
And then, he hears a crash, glass shattering, and terrible screaming.
Author's Note
Hey, all! Thanks for reading. So, yeah, I let some eighties movies influence this chapter. If you've never heard those songs, look them up. They are awesome.
So, that was Part Thirteen. I hope so much you all enjoyed it. Questions, comments, suggestions, don't hesitate. I'll hopefully have Fourteen up soon.
Thank you Jeenathespectrobesprincess for the review! Thank you! Well, here it is. Let me what you think.
Thank you ShieraH for the review. I'm so glad you loved Part Eleven.
Thank you Psychic Soul for the review! Well thank you very much. I'm glad you loved how the Justice League scene went. I wasn't sure about it when I wrote it. Thanks for the kind words, and thanks for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it so much.
And thank you everyone who has reviewed. You have made it so much easier for me to keep going and keep pushing. These quick updates are because of you, so thank you!
Thank you iCoffeeChu, Nacho556, and Santiera Sienna for favoriting.
Thank you 8 Poisoned Kindness 8, iCoffeeChu, and Nacho556 for following.
And thank you every reader who has opened the story so far. You are all awesome!
Well, that's it for this part.
I hope life finds you all well.
Until next time.
mojo