A/N: As you guys can probably tell, I'm kinda going through the list. -Building those layers- Hope you guys enjoy this one.
The world was bleak and colorless place when I first laid eyes on Timothy Drake. I was hardly eleven years old when I wandered from the manor, too angry at my father to care that world had become a frozen wasteland.
I remember the snow being deep enough to cover my boots as I trudged up the hill to the cemetery, watching the leafless trees shiver in the biting wind. But the cold did nothing to comfort my bitterness, no matter how I wished it would just numb the ache I felt.
"She wasn't a part of the plan! I don't know what I'm doing. Sometimes, sometimes... I think she'd be better off with someone else."
I could still hear my father's words replaying in my head when I reached the wrought iron gates of the cemetery, they were wide open, as wide as my mother's arms would have been. I wasn't supposed to hear him and Alfred discussing me, I knew as much when I confronted him on the stairs of the bat cave.
"Why didn't you just give me away then?! It's a little late now!" I remember watching his eyes become so wide when the words came out of my mouth.
"Delilah, wait…" But I was already up the stairs. I shoved over the first bookcase I came to trying to break his path so I could flee outside. I didn't even grab a coat, I just wanted out of there as fast as my legs would carry me.
And now I was wandering the rows of snowcapped grave markers, pressing my arms against my chest as if it would keep the December cold at bay. The cemetery was eerily quiet, leaving me alone with the whisper of the wind as it nipped at my ears. Looking around however, I noticed that for once I didn't have the place to myself.
The roses the boy had in his hand looked as red as blood against the gray world around us. He looked in my direction, forcing me to look away. I locked my eyes on my mom's head stone, feeling it draw me closer. Mother, friend. Missed. God, I missed her so much right in that moment. I wanted her to hug me. I wanted her to say it was okay.
Pressing my back against the stone, her marker felt like ice but I didn't budge. I simply pulled my knees under my chin, forcing myself to endure the painful touch of the chill as my body heat began to melt away.
"I'm so lost, Mama. Tell me what to do…"
The words made my throat ache. I pressed my head into my arms, feeling the small flakes of snow skirt around my cheeks. The delicate fluff that touched the tear tracks on my face seemed to stick to my face. Listening I can sometimes think I hear her talking to me. "What's wrong, Baby?" I know that's what she'd ask. But I heard nothing. I didn't even hear the boy's feet crunching the snow. I just felt his cold leather glove touch my hand.
"Are you okay?"
I forced myself to look up, squinting through the swirls of snow. His eyes were as dark as an evergreen, his black hair seemed to remind me of a raven's feather, but like me his nose and cheeks were red, and it wasn't just from the cold.
"I'm f-fine." I managed, mopping my face with my sleeve. He quickly ripped off his coat, draping over me.
"You're also turning blue." He noted, crouching down beside me. "What are you doing out here?"
I didn't want to admit it, but the coat felt warm around me, warm enough to make my flesh sting when it tried to thaw itself. I watched as a couple deep red petals rolled down the hill, skating down the snow drifts in the wind.
"Sitting with my mom." I managed. "Thank you…"
He tilted his head, regarding me with a sorrowful knowing smile. It's not the kind you make because you want to. It's the kind of smile you make because you're fighting to hold yourself together. He gently touched my mom's headstone, brushing the snow out of the grooves of her name.
"You have someone here too, don't you?" I asked.
He just looked beyond me for a long moment before nodding. "My mom's here too." He said. "A few rows up the hill."
Nearly my entire family was here, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Both sets of my grandparents were on these grounds somewhere along with my mom and Jason too. "You look really familiar, do you live around here?" He said gently, watching me draw in the fresh snow on my mother's plot.
I pointed down the hill, knowing that just across the small valley you could see the pitch of the rooftops of Wayne Manor now that the trees were bare.
"You're…"
"Delilah!"
I could see the broad shape of my father's body when he weaved his way through the gate. I jumped to my feet, sliding the coat off."Thank you." I said quickly before darting in the other direction, hopping over plagues and monuments, my father in pursuit.
"Del."
I zipped around a mausoleum, trying to evade capture. "NO! Go away!"
"I didn't mean-"
"Yes you did! You always mean what you say!" I cried, ripping my arm from his hand when he managed to grab it.
"Just listen-"
"Why should I?! You don't want me around. You never do!" I turned to run back down the hill, when my boot got snagged on the molding of a marker. The frozen ground felt like cement when I hit it, the snow was no help, it only made sure that I was soaked.
It was in the shadow of that monument that he was able to grab me. At first I fisted my hands and proceeded to wail one him. He just pressed me into him, suppressing me. "Stop it, that's not true."
His hands were cold on my face. "You're frozen." He said, tearing off his coat. "What are you doing running around without a coat?"
"I was mad. Still am!" As if that explained everything.
He threw the coat around me, crouching when he pulled it closed. "Del, I was just venting. This is new to me; I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know if I'm doing it right."
"You took in Dick and Jason." I told him, feeling his thumb brush under my eye.
"A little girl is a bit different."
"I'm a girl, so what? It's not rocket science." I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "I just want to belong." I said softly, watching him look down at the snow between us and then back up at me.
"I don't mean to push you away." He said gently.
"Well, stop it." I said smartly, putting my hands on my hips the best I could. His coat all but swallowed me whole. "But I guess I could learn to be more understanding too." It was then I began to realize how much of a toll being a single parent took on my father. Maybe it was easier when the children that came into your life were half grown. Not a little girl who had no real role models to speak of except for a man who donned a cape and cowl nearly every night. It was from this moment I can say that the idea of Page for parents was born.
Dad seemed to nod as he pulled himself up. "We'll both work on that." He said, holding his hand out to me. I know they were cold, but to my aching hands, they were warm. He looked up, eyes locking on the stone behind me. His lips broke into that sad smile of a mourner. It was enough to make me turn around and stare.
Wayne. Of all the headstones to trip on. I remember tracing the snow out of my grandparent's names. "I think they made their point." I told Dad, feeling his arm drape around me as we walked toward the gates.
"I think you're right."
Looking out over the rows of weary stones and statues, I didn't see the boy. Stopping with Dad by my mother's plot, I realized that there was a rose lying in the heart I had drawn in the snow. "Did you put that there?" I asked, watching Dad's fingers kind of linger on the word missed. When my words finally seemed to register, he looked down at the crimson colored rose and shook his head.
For a while I thought the boy was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. I didn't see him again that winter, no matter how many trails I left there in the snow. But he always left a flower behind for my mother. I finally had to ask the grounds keeper, about the black haired boy. He only gave me a name. Janet Drake. I started leaving flowers for her too.
The first time I saw Tim face to face since that day in the snow, we paused, stared and simply nodded to each other. It was if speaking would somehow break the silent oath that we had forged. The oath of the motherless.
"Oh, here she comes."
Tim turned, glancing out the window as Delilah came running for the door, holding a folder over her head as if that would stop the rain from pelting her. She blew through the door, bringing the wet with her when she held it open for the boy on crutches.
"It's just rain. It's not like you're going to melt." He told her.
"Of course she would! Our girl is made of sugar." The woman behind the counter cried.
"Or I'm related to the wicked witch." Delilah said, unwinding her dripping scarf from her neck.
"I'm sure it's the latter." Damian grumbled, shrugging out of his wet coat.
"I should have left you at home." Del retorted as she hung up the coats. The second she turned around and saw Tim standing there, her smile fell just a little.
"Drake. I swear, you're starting to stalk me." She told him, bellying up to the counter beside him. The dark haired woman behind it just snickered as Tim held up his empty hands.
"I'm not. I swear. I just want to help."
"Well, we kind of do a little bit of everything around here." She said, wrapping an arm around Sissy when the girl came to hug her.
"We do tutoring, we have group activities for the kids, we do a bit of big brother big sister shadowing. And then for the parents there are the life coaches, family councilors not to mention the network of parents." After all, sometimes what the parents really needed was to talk to others who had been in their shoes.
Tim opened his mouth, when the girl snapped her fingers. "You like to tinker…" She said, "Do you think you could help a kid with her science project?"
He just surrendered. "I can try." He said, following her to another room where a young girl was working at a table with what appeared to be a mini rover.
"Hey Meg, did you get it to work yet?"
The girl sighed. "Not yet. I think I screwed up on my wiring."
"I would've taken a hammer to it." Del muttered as they approached the table.
"Don't tempt me." The girl warned, flipping one of her long pigtails behind her shoulder. Her eyes fell on the guy who was all but gawking at her little robot.
Delilah just gave the girl a smile. "This is a classmate of mine, Tim. He's harmless." She explained as they watched Tim poke and prod at her project.
Tim held up his hand. "Yes, harmless. Science fair, right?"
"He's a bigger nerd than I am." Del whispered.
"I heard that."
"No you didn't." Del interjected, looking from him then to Megan. " Do you think you can help her get it running?"
"Sure. That is, if you want the help, Miss Megan."
"Yes! I'm about to lose my marbles." The child groaned, resting her head in her hands.
Del grinned, slapping Tim on the back. "Make sure she does the work, you're only the help."
"Yeah, yeah, okay." He said, waving her off.
"So! Shall we open it up?"
By noon the rain had yet to let up. It pelted Gotham without mercy, sending any bystanders on the street scurrying for shelter when the lightning cracked across the sky. Damian peered over his book, watching his sister's hands work in tandem with the young boy at the piano, the music was soft, sweet even. It seemed to add to lull of the place.
He watched her hand reach up and turn to the last page in the music, her eyes however stayed on Max's hands. When the last note faded from the air, the room burst into applause.
"How do you feel about that recital now?"
"Good."
Del squeezed the kid around the shoulders, before working herself up from the bench. "You'll do great."
Dotty, the woman behind the counter popped her head up. "Some lunch was dropped off; it's in the break room." She told them, just as a robot came zipping into the front room.
"It's alive!" A girl with pigtails cried. Damian didn't miss the subtle nod that went from his sister to Timothy Drake. He couldn't help but frown.
"I'm going to let the rest of the staff know there's grub." Delilah said high-fiving the little girl with the remote in her hand before she disappeared down the hall.
Max darted to another room, returning to the piano with a Zesti cola bottle in his hand.
"Make sure to use a coaster, Maestro." Dotty warned the boy. He quickly righted the situation before twisting the top off. But instead of facing the keys he turned to Damian. He wanted to converse? Oh, fantastic.
"Clean break or a fracture?" he asked gesturing to the black cast on Damian's foot.
"Break."
"And you were walking on it yesterday?" Tim asked, raising a brow.
"Dang."
Damian rolled his eyes, as the boy took a swig of his drink.
"You two are easily impressed." He told them, watching Del return with a big box, she set it on the table.
"Dotty, remind me to pop in at Gino's and thank them profusely."
The room slipped into a soft harmony, part soft conversation, part rain and thunder. Del had eased herself beside her brother, sitting lotus style on the cushion, as she turned his book over in her hands. Titus Andronicus.
"Why am I not surprised?" She asked. "I should be, I mean, you're ten."
"What is it?" Tim asked, stopping to take a bite of his sandwich.
"Titus." She said simply, putting the book back where he had it, when Max slowly eased himself up from sitting on the floor. He was pulling at his shirt, his young face looking pinked.
"Max? You alright?"
"Not one of Shakespeare's more popular works." Tim said, watching Del unfold herself, her brow wrinkled. Something wasn't right.
"It's hot." Max complained, as he faced the piano.
Tim was pulling himself up when the boy turned around, catching a hold of Del before he hit the ground. It was only when Sissy let out an ear piercing scream did he realize there was blood all down the front of Delilah's shirt.
"MAX!" Eyes wide and wild, Del quickly turned the boy over, trying to keep him from choking on the blood that was starting to ooze from his mouth. "CALL 911! NOW!" out of the corner of her eye she caught the half empty bottle of Zesti cola sitting on top of the piano. No. No. NO!
"Del, they're not going to get here fast enough. Memorial is two streets down." Tim told her, scooping the boy up.
Del only nodded, prying Sissy from Tim's leg when he went to dash out the door carrying the brother. Only when Damian grabbed the screaming girl did Del make a move for the door. "Find all the Zesti cola bottles. Bag them!"
"Zesti cola?"
"Just do it!" She cried, darting out into the rain.
Tim forced himself to swallow, even against the sound of the thunder or his own feet splashing through the stagnate water that washed across the sidewalk from the road, he could hear the gurgle of blood in the boy's throat.
"Hold on, Buddy, just hold on." He managed, trying to grip the boy closer to him, but his hands were slick with blood. The water behind him would turn from red to pink as he cut through the streets, trying to dodge umbrella toting bystanders. Some would curse and yell but the second some would get a glimpse; their hands would fly to their mouths. Was this city so terrified that no one had the balls to try to help him?
Behind him he could hear the sound of blaring horns. He glanced back just in time to see a bloodied Delilah jump and slide across the hood of a taxi. "Just keep going!" she yelled over the clamor of the storm, the cabby's shouts chasing her down the street.
She reached the doors of Gotham Memorial before him, because the second Tim made it through the threshold, the half dead boy was whisked from his arms, as if they knew. The second his arms were empty, Tim sank to the floor right there in the lobby, certain his lungs would burst.
Delilah still had the intercom microphone in her had when she slid to the floor by the nurse's station, oblivious to the flurry of chaos they had brought with them. All she could do was give Tim a nod, and slowly count to ten.
Del pressed herself against the wall, letting her hands hang over her knees. Her clothing was clinging to her now, warm from her body heat but still sopping wet. She reeked of the rusty twang of blood it was all too familiar smell that had bile lingering at the back of her throat. The boy beside her had his eyes cast down to his bloody hands as they sat limp in his lap.
"I hate this place." He grumbled, leaning his head back on the wall.
"Preaching to the choir." Delilah croaked, watching nurses and doctors move through the halls. Del leaned her head back, closing her eyes to trying to tune out the low chaotic hum of the place, when a familiar voice had her opening her eyes once more.
"Del?!
Sam.
The bruises across her face had lessened, turning an almost gray color, rather than the dark blackish blue tone that Delilah remembered. Her face still looked painfully inflamed. No doubt the eye patch was to protect the eye that had almost swollen shut. Fresh guilt bubbled to the surface.
"Sam…" Del was working her way back up, when Mrs. Cleary snatched Sam closer to her. The woman looked at her wide eyed. "Why am I not surprised? Whose blood do you have on your hands now?"
"Is that really necessary?" Tim asked, looking up at the woman.
"Mark my words, you hang around this girl, you're going to end up paying the price."
"Sam, take your mother and go. The bill has been paid." Delilah said, surprising herself by how steady the words had left her. Sam didn't waste another second; she pulled her mother's arm, trying to drag her toward the receptionist window in the lobby.
"Mom, just let it go. We're going home, just let it go. Del I'll-"
"You'll do nothing." Delilah said firmly, biting back the apology that wanted to crawl from her lips when she say the hurt wash over Sam's swollen face.
"You really meant it…"
"I did."
The second Del could no longer see Sam or her mother; she put her head on her knees.
"What was that?" Tim asked, tilting his head at the girl. "You and Sam are like-"
"Not anymore!" Del spat, realizing how bitter the words tasted in her mouth. That seemed to surprise him. She couldn't even look at him. "It was my fault." She said softly. "Again."
Tim was plotting his words carefully when a white coat came from the same room that Max Collins had been taken. "Delilah?"
Dr. Elliot seemed a little stunned, but he slowly crouched down in front of the girl. "I'm starting to see you in here a little too much." He said gravely, gesturing for the kids to stay seated when both of them tried to get up.
"How is he? Will he-"
"He's critical, but with some luck, he might pull through." He shook his head. "You know I'm a surgeon. Why did you have them page me?"
"You're very particular. I knew you wouldn't hand the case over to just anyone. You'd pick the best of them."
He nodded, patting her knee as her father and a frantic Mr. Collins came through those sliding doors. Sissy had her slender arms snaked around her father's neck, her face red and eyes swollen from tears. Even now she still looked terrified. I know just where you are. She thought. I've been there. The memory would be with her forever and there was nothing Del could do to take it back.
"Are you Mr. Collins?" Dr. Elliot asked, taking the father and daughter aside. Delilah was still watching them when her father cut across her vision.
"Are you two okay?"
"Yes, Mr. Wayne." Tim's words were so soft that Delilah nearly missed them.
"Del?"
The girl blinked, taking her eyes off the broken Collins family. "I wish I was numb." She whispered. "Because this…this will never be okay."
Delilah couldn't describe what she saw flickering across her father's face, but when he simply offered her hand she took it, letting him pull her to her feet and right into his arms, pulling her close so she could whisper to him.
"It's the same...came out of a Zesti Cola bottle. I told Damian to bag it."
"Good."
With that he released her, and gave Tim a hand up. "Tim ran him all the way here." Delilah murmured.
"Says the girl who beat me here."
"I wasn't carrying an eight year old boy." Delilah argued, watching him eye the floor. What was the use of praising a good deed when it could be all in vain? She could read it on his face.
"At least he has a chance." Her father told him. "A chance he might not have had otherwise."
There was no stopping the constant replay in her head. She could still see the shimmer of fear in Max's eyes when he latched onto her. How frightened he became when the blood that should have stayed in his body started to pour from his mouth. He had grabbed onto her because she was the rock, the one who made everything right. And what did she do? Nothing. She did nothing. She couldn't make it stop, she couldn't take his fear away. She didn't even tell him it was going to be okay. Maybe her mind was trying to keep her mouth from telling the boy a lie.
"I didn't even try to console him." Del whispered, listening to her footsteps echo through the halls of Dick's apartment building. He only glanced at her when they stopped at his door. "Stop that." He told her, pushing the door open.
"I shouldn't even be here. I should be-"
"Uh-uh no bat cave. If I left you at home there's a 1000% chance you would do something insanely stupid."
"You say my ideas are stupid anyway." She whispered, wandering toward the wall to floor windows.
"Boss's orders. You're thinking with your emotions, not your head." He said, slinging his leather jacket over the back of the sofa.
"As if you've never done that." Del shot back, watching her reflection trace the trails of the rain with her finger tip. From here the city was beautiful. The buildings were all aglow, shining like beacons in the darkness. And yet, the girl knew that the closer to the earth a person was, the darker the city would become.
"I have. It's dangerous."
The girl let her arms fall limply to her side as she finally turned away. "I should be doing something." she cried. "If you guys don't want me to go out-fine! But I could be running tests and taking samples right now."
Dick shook his head. "Damian took a sample from the bottle that Max opened. He's running the test."
The girl just stared. "Damian? He's running the test? She didn't know if she should be shocked or horrified. "Oh, that's just great!"
"Yes, Demon Spawn is running the test; you know your Dad's going to double check it." He said, watching her crumble on the sofa. Like any good brother he worked his way to her, sitting on the coffee table in front of her.
"Hey. No, don't do that." He said, pulling her hands from her face when she rested her head in her hands.
"I just-I just have this really, really bad feeling..."
"You don't know what's going to happen." He told her, giving her hands a squeeze.
"So where is this Robin prospect of yours?" She asked, changing the subject all together. Dick could have rolled his eyes. Father like daughter.
"He'll be around shortly. Food should be on its way too."
Delilah shoved herself from the sofa, pulling her hands from her brother's grip. "Is he skilled?"
"Very. Martial artist with a good sense of discipline and self-control. And he's smart. I almost want to say he's got a bit of experience with acrobatics too, but he could stand to learn a thing or two."
Delilah couldn't help it, she shot him a smirk. "No one is better at that than you of course."
He chuckled. "Only one comes close, and that's because she has this awesome instructor."
"Did she ever mention how much of a butthead he could be?"
Dick held up his hands as he plopped himself on the couch. "Yeah, but you don't want to hear what he says about her." He said reaching for the remote, stopping only to block the pillow she threw at him.
"So I'm thinking…Tombstone." This is the part where one of them would start the one liners. He half expected her to come off with 'I'll be your huckleberry.' But instead she came to the side of the couch and stood there, holding a pamphlet in her hand.
"Bludhaven?"
Dick took a breath and let it out. "I was going to talk to you about that." He stated, turning the TV right back off.
"So…you really are thinking of leaving. Is that why you want another Robin so badly?" At least her voice came out calm, conversational even.
"No. Yes. Maybe just a little?" He could see that look swimming in her eyes, like her heart was tens seconds away from being ripped out and there was nothing she could do about it. Oh, but Dick Grayson knew why. From the day she arrived she had been his shadow. "I'm not leaving you, just Gotham."
The girl bit on her lip, not quite sure how she felt, she just turned to the door when someone began to knock.
"And that would be the food."
"Remember this spot. We're not done with this conversation." She told him as she pulled the door open. Tim was standing there holding a white paper bag. For a long moment, all she could do was stare at him. Now all his sudden interest made sense. He was the Robin prospect.
"Hey…again."
Delilah threw the door closed, leaving him out there in the hall.
"You're kidding me." She muttered, sitting down on the arm of the sofa when Dick went to the door himself.
"So you've met."
Del glared at him. "You know we have. We go to the same school, Genius."
"Oh, good. This won't be awkward then."
"The hell you say-"
"You guys know I can hear you, right?" Tim asked through the door.
"All I'm asking is that you hear him out." Dick said, watching the girl huff at the ceiling.
"Okay." She groaned, sliding to her feet when Tim came through the door, looking rather sheepish.
"There better be pot stickers in that bag."
"You're totally mad at me." Tim noted, watching the girl pick at the food on her plate. Not that he could blame her, after today his appetite wasn't on the radar either. Del just let the chopsticks fall with a clatter, shoving the plate away.
"Yeah. She's mad."
Dick immediately plucked the untouched food off her plate. "Eh, she's not mad at you. She was caught off guard and now she's beating herself up about it."
"Shut up, Dick."
"You're not psychic." He told her as she pushed herself away from the table. Damn if he wasn't right. Was she angry at Tim? No. But she had an inkling something was off, why didn't she act on it? Why didn't she corner him and confront him?
Tim turned in his chair, watching her pause at the window, tipping her head back as if she was staring up at the sky trying to see something other than concrete and glowing windows.
"He's getting closer to that edge isn't he?"
The words seemed to put a shock down her spine. True, Batman was slowly starting to shed more blood than he'd ever been known to. And while he was still clinging to his morals, even she knew it wouldn't take much to sway him now. How many times had Dick or Commissioner Gordon pull him back from the brink? And if Dick really left Gotham… Oh, God.
"Yes." She whispered, watching her breath fog on the glass. "I don't think Batman has been the same since…" Jason. But no one in the room would say his name. Not even her. Now it just seemed like a far off memory.
The girl pressed her head against the cool glass. "He does need more help out there." She said, listening to one of them rummage around. "Dick, if you leave…" Del's words hung there when she turned toward them. All she could do was stand there, defeated.
"I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure Bats is stable." He assured her, watching her shoulders slump at his words. "Nor am I going to leave you shorthanded. That's why we need your help."
Del sat on the instep that broke up the large space. "What could I possibly do?"
"Despite what you think, he listens to you. He's more likely to think this through if you're backing it."
The girl pressed her elbows into her knees as Tim came and settled beside her with his long legs. He handed her a stack of papers.
"What's this?"
"Did you notice anything weird about the accident yesterday?" he asked, staring up at the ceiling. Dick really needed to learn how to dust his ceiling fans.
"Yeah, the branch looked like it had a perfect break halfway through. Like it was cut."
Del looked down at the papers, realizing they were the volunteer forms from Quest Kids.
"How did you get these?"
"I'm just borrowing them." He told her. "I'll put them back, but you know who normally comes and goes. I don't."
The girl shot him a scowl, but carefully started to go through the stack. For a moment Tim was sure the lead was dead, but when Del's brows started to knit together all bets were off. It was enough to have Dick moving to stand behind her just to get a peek.
"Dr. Thomas Elliot." He read over her shoulder.
"I don't remember seeing him there."
"Maybe that was before you showed up. You never know, he could have gotten an emergency call."
"Plausible deniability, whatever, he's still creepy." She said, shaking her head. Out of the stack, there were only a couple of names she didn't recognize. "I just…I don't get the motive. Why go after the Collins? They're an average working class family. I'm sure he struggles from time to time, but I doubt Mr. Collins was into anything that could come back on his kids."
Del let the last paper in her hands flutter to the floor. Unless it wasn't the Collins they were after…
"Mom. Sam. Max. Out of all the cases those three have one thing in common." She said softly, wringing her hands so tight that almost looked bloodless. "Me."
"You're mother's death was a homicide wasn't it?" Tim asked carefully, as if the words might set her off. But the girl only looked at the floor as she nodded.
"Yeah. The report says she bled out from her injuries. But when Bats ran a tox screen on her, he found high levels of MDMA and venom in her blood. The same mixture was found in all of the Zesti Cola cases. Sam was injected with the same concoction."
"So there could be a copycat."
"Gotham isn't short on crazy people." Dick told them, scrunching his brow when there was a knock on the door.
Delilah only bobbed her head, as she gathered the forms, paying no mind to Dick when he crossed the space. "That's what I'm thinking. Someone's just using it to their advantage. I just…I don't know who."
"Bruce."
Hearing her father's name, Del slowly rose to her feet, unsure of what to make of his grave set face. He didn't even greet Dick; he just ambled toward the girl. Every single step filled her with dread.
"Del..." Too soft.
The forms slid from her fingers in a cascade of paper as Delilah brought a hand to her mouth. She was already shaking her head. "No. No, no, no."
Standing there, all Bruce could do was swallow the knot that hung in his throat. He had no choice but to watch his daughter's chest heave as she tried to fight against the onslaught of emotions. Tim was gathering the papers she dropped, he managed to keep his head down, but his face was ashen.
The life they had fought so hard to save…was gone.
