CHAPTER 9
For the next few days, things are almost peaceful. Dick and I are single-minded and focused. There is only the journey, the hike. There is only one way to move and that is forward. There is Dick's hand in mine, his thumb brushing my knuckles. There is his little half smile and the way he lifts me over fallen logs, his fingers creeping beneath my jacket and touching my bare skin. There is his soft voice while he teaches me to hunt, showing me how to track animals with infinite patience and kind words. There is nighttime, when he lays me down and unzips my jacket and touches me like he's never touched anyone.
I cry and whimper and moan his name with only the forest around us to hear.
He cups my cheeks and kisses my forehead and holds my arms down while he fucks me.
There are hard moments, where I feel like we will never escape this forest. It seems to be never-ending, stretching on forever. Sometimes, I swear I can feel eyes on me, watching me from between the trees. But I chalk it down to paranoia because neither Turner nor his henchman make an appearance. It is just Dick and I in this endless maze of a forest, as though we're the only people in the entire universe.
~O~
Heavy-eyed and sleep deprived, Rachel blinks blearily at the screen, watching the drone's camera as it flies over the Canadian wilderness. No sign of life, no sign of a plane crash. Nothing to indicate Will or Dick's existence.
"Anything?" Jason asks loudly from behind her.
"Shh!" She shushes him. Gar stirs beside her, his head resting on her shoulder. "He just fell asleep," she whispers.
"I didn't realise it was nap time," Jason mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. "Have you found anything or not?"
She shakes her head, looking back at the screen. "Nothing. It's just rivers and a million trees." She rests her cheek on her fist. "It's been days."
"We'll find them."
"You keep saying that. But I don't see it happening. Maybe they were never here."
There's silence and Rachel feels tears flood her eyes. She sniffles, trying to hold back the flood of emotion.
Jason rubs the back of his neck, looking awkward. He comes forward and gently pats her shoulder. With shaking fingers, she wipes away the tears trickling out.
Suddenly his grip on her shoulder tightens to the point of pain.
"Ow! Jason, what the hell?" Her startled yelp wakes Gar with a jerk. She looks up at Jason, but his eyes aren't on her, they're on the screen.
"Go back."
"What?"
"Turn the drone around! Go back, I saw something!" Jason commands.
Gar, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, sits forward to control the drone and turn it around. They all watch with bated breath.
A wooden cabin comes into view. The only structure around for miles and miles.
"Zoom in," Jason instructs and Gar manoeuvres the drone closer. Three armed men patrol outside the cabin, with semi-automatic weapons in hand.
"Holy shit," Gar breathes.
"That's got to be it!" Jason exclaims. "That's got to be where they were planning to take Will and Dick."
"We need to call Bruce now so he can get a team out there," Gar says.
"Screw that! You can't be serious! You're going to entrust Will and Dick's safety to some B-team of military rejects? No way. We're going out there ourselves, right now," Jason declares. Rachel and Gar exchange an unsure look.
"I really think we should tell—"
"Enough with the crap, Gar! If you're scared, I'll go myself." Jason turns on his heel and starts to stride away.
"Wait!" Rachel calls and he stops. She looks between him and Gar, momentarily torn. "I'm coming with you, Jason."
"Rachel," Gar protests.
"No. Will and Dick would risk everything for any one of us. We have to save them. Are you coming or not?" Rachel questions. After a heavy moment, Gar lets out a long sigh.
"Let me get my stuff."
~O~
It's our fifth night in the wilderness and we're both exhausted from days of continuous hiking. Despite that, I feel content leaning back against Dick's chest, his lips brushing my temple. I fiddle with his fingers, a small fire crackling in front of us. It's cold and it's been days; surely if Turner was going to find us, he would've by now.
"It's possible they didn't survive the fall," Dick explains.
"Even with the parachutes?"
"They would've been lower to the ground by the time they jumped out. Maybe they got caught in trees or didn't deploy their parachutes in time. There's a lot of possibilities."
He very clearly doesn't rule out the possibility that they're still out there, but the thought that, hopefully, Turner and his man died days ago is a comforting one.
"How long do you think we can survive out here?" I ask quietly.
"As long as we need to," he responds confidently. "We'll get out of here."
I sit up and face him, our legs sliding together. "I just wish I could contact Rachel, you know? Tell her I'm ok." My hands curl into tight fists, fingernails digging into the skin of my palms.
He exhales deeply and sits forward, gently taking my hands and unfurling my fingers. "I get how responsible you feel for her, Will. Really I do. I feel the same, not just for Rachel but for Gar, Jason…You."
I bow my head, chewing on my lip.
"But the truth is there are going to be times when you can't protect her, when you have to let her figure things out on her own."
My throat tightens. "What if I can't do that?"
His eyebrows furrow. "Why? You cling to her so tightly. I thought I understood it; you never had a family of your own so Rachel's your chosen family and you feel like you have to protect that…But is there something else?"
I shake my head and pull my knees to my chest.
"Will…Talk to me, please." I shake my head again. "Will." He reaches for me and I push him away, standing up abruptly.
"Cut it out. Just because we're sleeping together doesn't mean I owe you every detail of my bloody life." Embarrassed, I turn on my heel and march away from our little campsite, into the surrounding forest.
"Where are you going?"
"To get some more firewood!"
I go far enough away that the burning fire fades into the darkness and then I crouch over and bury my face in my hands, leaves crunching beneath my boots.
I think about how fucked up I am emotionally and how I don't think I'll ever be able to change. I want to, I've been trying to. But it's like it just can't stick. I can't let go of the past, of who I've had to be in order to survive. I look up at the stars and I think about what could've been. If my parents hadn't been drug addicts who wanted nothing to do with me, then maybe I could've grown up in a normal, loving home. I could've felt safe and been openly kind without fear or reservation.
That's a cop out, an insidious voice in my head tells me as I force myself to straighten up and begin collecting some sticks. Rachel grew up in a difficult situation, as did Gar and plenty of other people. And none of them turned out cruel and emotionally detached.
My movements become choppy and violent as I snatch twigs up, bundling them in my arms.
Leaves crunching in the distance makes me freeze. I hesitate, straining my eyes to see in the dark. "Dick?" I call out. "Dick, I'm—I'm sorry."
The voice that responds is one far more sinister than Dick's. "Aw, no need for apologies, sweetheart. I'm sure you can make it up to me."
Vex Turner slowly emerges from the shadows, a gun in his hand. I don't hesitate for a second; the sticks drop from my arms and I turn and run. I hear two sets of footsteps pounding behind me.
"Dick!" I scream. The faint flicker of the fire comes into view through the trees. I'm close. I leap over a log and dodge around a bush.
"Will?" Dick's voice is near. I burst into the clearing to see him on his feet, I've nearly reached him—
An arm darts out and catches me around the waist. I'm yanked back into the sturdy chest of Turner's henchman. I struggle and shout as Dick runs toward me but we both freeze when the barrel of a gun presses against my temple. Turner wanders into the clearing, kicking at the fire and watching as the embers burst out and sizzle the leaves around him.
"Dickie, Dickie, Dickie. You know, I'm impressed. You've changed since your days of running around as Batman's sidekick. You're stronger, smarter, tougher. The only problem?" Turner grabs me by the hair roughly and forces me onto my knees.
Dick steps forward, his face as hard as stone, glaring heatedly at his enemy.
"You've still got a bleeding heart."
The gun digs into the back of my head.
"Get on your knees," Turner instructs Dick, whose mouth is tight. After a moment, he complies, lowering himself onto his knees and putting his hands behind his head.
Turner wanders toward Dick, producing a gun from his waistband. He stops right in front of Dick and then bashes it across Dick's head. I gasp as he falls forward onto his hands, blood dripping down from his forehead.
I start to cry. My bottom lip wobbles.
Dick looks up at me and I feel every apology, every touch, every kiss in his gaze.
"Leave the girl," Turner says. "Let's go."
A loud crack and I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head as the butt of the henchman's gun comes smashing down on me. I tumble to the ground, everything going fuzzy, and am helpless to watch as Dick is dragged away at gunpoint, swallowed by the darkness of the forest.
~O~
The private jet that Jason chartered for them is beyond luxurious, but Rachel doesn't have the bandwidth to notice. She is entirely focused on the upcoming task of rescuing a hopefully-unharmed Will and Dick.
Her leg bounces up and down incessantly, her fingernails bitten down low. "Hey, take a breath," Gar says, reaching out and putting a hand on her knee. "Everything's going to be ok."
She presses her lips together. "How much longer?" She asks Jason.
"We land soon."
Her stomach twists. It isn't only Will and Dick that she's worried about - although they are certainly her primary concern. But she's also worried about her abilities. They've been rather uncontrollable as of late. What if she loses control and hurts Gar or Jason? All she wants is to get her friends back, but she doesn't want to jeopardise her other friends along the way.
"We should come up with a game plan," Gar suggests. "The drone gave us a rough layout of the cabin and the surrounding area. Let's figure out exactly how we're going to bring Will and Dick home."
~O~
I swim in and out of consciousness, my vision splotchy. Eventually, I manage to drag myself up, swaying considerably.
Stumbling my way across the clearing, I make it to the backpack and tear it open. My hand closes around the hunting knife.
It takes me a long time to make my way between the trees, staggering through the darkness, the knife clutched tightly in my grip. When Dick was teaching me to hunt, he showed me to look for broken twigs and disturbed plant life to track animals down. I do this now, squinting to make out cracked branches and marks in the ground from when they must have started dragging Dick. There's blood to follow as well, drops of it like little breadcrumbs.
At one point, I trip and fall and almost can't get back up. I want to give up and lie there in the cold night so badly. But Dick wouldn't give up on me. And I won't give up on him, no matter what it takes.
So I push myself up and I force myself forward, slowly gaining traction as I go, the fog in my head clearing. Eventually, I see a faint glow of light through the imposing tree trunks and I halt when a wooden cabin comes into view. There's light coming from the windows, but I can't really see inside.
Three armed men patrol the perimeter of the clearing with vigilant eyes. I swallow thickly, eyeing the semi-automatic guns and shifting the knife in my hand.
I press my back to a tree and take in a deep breath, formulating some semblance of a plan in my mind. For a long time, I wait and watch. Every ten minutes or so, one guard circles around the back of the cabin to check it's all clear.
Taking on all three of them at once, I have no chance. If I can isolate each one, then perhaps I can survive this.
Maybe.
I creep around the cabin from the safety of the dense tree line, cringing when I accidentally step on a branch. I freeze, holding my breath. But the guards only seem interested in the sound for a moment before they dismiss it as an animal.
When I make it to the back of the clearing, I wait with bated breath until one of the guards circle around.
My stomach twists at what I'm about to do. You have to save Dick, I think. You have to.
When his back is turned to me, I silently pad out of the trees. Knocking him out is too dangerous; what if he wakes straight back up and alerts the others? What if I'm completely unsuccessful and all it serves to do is piss him off?
This is the only way.
When I'm close enough to his back, my hands dart out and I grip his forehead, yanking him down. With one quick movement, I slice open his throat before he can make a sound.
My arms wrap around his torso to lower him as quietly as possible to the ground. I take the gun from him, but I can't actually shoot it. It's too loud and will alert Turner, who I assume is inside, to my presence. If he knows I'm here, he might kill Dick. If he hasn't already.
I press my back to the cabin, hiding in the shadows. It doesn't take long before one of the guards comes looking for his missing friend.
"Williams?" The guard calls out. "Where'd you fuck off to?" His eyes land on his fallen brethren and he opens his mouth to call out to the third guard. But before he can say a word, I stick the barrel of the gun in my hands between his shoulder blades.
"Shut your mouth," I whisper. "Drop your gun. Slowly."
He does as he's told, lowering his weapon to the ground and raising his hands up. "Call out to the other guard, tell him you found Williams and everything is fine," I instruct. He hesitates and I dig the gun up higher, into his neck. "I will blow your fucking head off right now."
He takes in a deep breath and calls out, "Found him! He was taking a piss!"
"Tell him to hurry the hell up!" The other guard calls out from the front of the cabin. I very faintly hear voices coming from inside.
"Get on your knees," I whisper roughly and the man complies, dropping down slowly. I draw back the gun and then smash the butt of it against his head, watching him fall to the ground. But it doesn't knock him out like it does in the movies. Instead, he groans, clutching the back of his head.
"Fuck," I mutter, hearing the other guard coming around the side of the cabin. Beneath me, the man tries to grapple the gun out of my grip and I'm forced to kick it away to keep it from him. I yank out my knife and drive it into his chest, blood splashing all over me. My hand covers his mouth to keep him from making anymore sound but it's too late. The third and final guard is already heading toward me; I can see his shadow stretching out across the grass. I roll to my feet and creep around the corner of the cabin. We nearly run into one another. His finger goes straight for the trigger of his gun, but I slash his hand open, causing him to cuss and drop it. His fist connects with my cheek and I stumble back but manage to kick out his legs before he can reach for the gun again. I swing back the knife and then bring it down hard. The blade goes straight through his eye. I draw it out slowly, watching his body twitch and then fall still.
My knees shake as I walk backwards, staring at the three bodies laid out on the grass.
I had to do this, I justify, over and over again. I have to save Dick, no matter what it takes.
With this thought playing in my head, I stride around the side of the cabin and toward the front door.
~O~
A single fluorescent light bulb swings gently from the ceiling. Dick blinks blearily up at it, his eyesight a little patchy.
His head lolls down to rest against his chest and he belatedly notices his arms are chained to a metal chair that's bolted into the floor. There will be no miraculous escape from Vex Turner this time. The man may be a full blown sociopath, but Dick will give him this; he learns.
After being thrown in jail by Bruce and Dick, Turner managed to escape and build his weapons dealing empire bigger and better than before, even setting up a secluded safe house in the middle of nowhere. By any standards, that's impressive.
"Dick…Dick." Turner's sing-song, grating voice snaps Dick to attention. He surveys his surroundings carefully; a wooden cabin mostly bare except for a few cots and a small kitchen. There's a large, padlocked cupboard to the right that he can only assume holds a multitude of weapons. From within the cupboard, Dick hears a thump. "Oh don't mind that. We'll get to him in a bit. First I want to talk to you, just us girls." Turner drags over a fold out chair and places it across from Dick, then drops down onto it. "Now that we're finally alone, I want to run some ideas by you."
"Is that right?" Dick keeps his composure best he can, his mind racing with ideas on how he can get the fuck out of here and find Will before something bad happens to her. If something bad hasn't already happened to her. "Ideas about what?"
"Well, about how I'm going to expose Bruce Wayne as Batman. Obviously." Turner grins and Dick's jaw tightens. "I'm thinking of getting a banner and hanging it over the GCPD precinct. Or maybe I could go for skywriting. I kind of think projecting a light into the night sky would be ironic, considering the bat symbol. But that might be a bit on the nose."
"Are you done?" Dick glares at him.
"You know it took me months to figure out the identities of Batman and his little sidekick. But when I finally did, oh it was so sweet. And it made sense too!"
There is another loud thump from inside the cupboard.
"Alright! Alright!" Turner rolls his eyes. "Enough foreplay. Let's get to the main course then." He leaps up from his chair and bounds over to the cupboard, producing a key and unlocking it. Dick glances down at the locks keeping him in place. He suspects that is the key to his freedom as well.
Turner flings open the cupboard door revealing an impressive arsenal of weapons and also a bound and gagged man. Dick recognises the man immediately; Hopper, a low level weapons dealer who used to work for Turner. Years ago, Bruce and Dick pressured Hopper into turning on his boss and the information Hopper provided on Vex eventually led to his arrest.
Batman and Robin didn't technically have criminal informants, but if they had, Hopper would've been one of them.
Turner all but throws Hopper out of the cupboard and locks it up tight behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. Humming like it's his goddamn birthday, Turner struts around his prey, leans down and tears the gag out of his mouth.
"Listen to me Vex, listen. I had to. They made me talk, I was loyal, I swear," Hopper cries.
"Shh, shh." Turner hushes him. "Quiet now."
"It was years ago, man!" Hopper continues on so Turner delivers a swift but firm kick to the guts.
Dick has to admit, he won't shed any tears for Hopper. The guy is a criminal, through and through. But Dick also can't help but feel responsible for the position he's is in. Dick and Bruce forced the man to talk and now it's come back to haunt him.
"It was years ago. But lucky for you, I have an elephant's memory," Turner picks up a wooden baseball bat from the corner of the room. Hopper scrambles backwards along the floor but with his hands and feet bound, he doesn't get far. Turner lifts the bat above his head and brings it down hard on Hopper's leg. There is a sickening crunch. Turner hits him again, this time in the jaw. He keeps hitting him, over and over again, until the bat splinters, leaving slivers of wood embedded in Hopper's face. Eventually, he stops screaming and stops moving altogether. It's a brutal death.
Dick watches on with a stoic face as Turner drops the ruined bat and licks a speck of blood from his lip. "He was always a rat, really. Was always going to die like a rat. You, though? I figure I'll take you apart. Piece by piece." Turner pulls out a pair of pliers from his jacket pocket and starts toward Dick.
The door to the cabin bursts open. For a moment, Dick thinks he might be hallucinating. His stomach plummets.
Will is haloed by darkness, her jeans torn at the knees and her face blank. She came for him, even though she shouldn't have, even though she should have stayed as far away as possible.
She steps across the threshold and into the cabin and that's when Dick notices that there's blood everywhere. Smeared across her forehead and down her cheek, staining the front of her jacket and coating her hand which grips her hunting knife tightly. Drops of red slide down its blade.
The sight of it all makes Dick sick; this is what he's made her, what he's forced her to become. He's no better than Bruce…In fact, he's worse.
"Will…" He shakes his head. She should never have been put in this situation.
"Well, well, well. This is unexpected." Turner's smile grows.
"Your men outside are dead," Will says, her voice flat and empty. "You should just leave."
"Should I now? The way I see it, I got two for the price of one." He glances back at Dick. "I thought I was being quite generous, leaving you alive. But I suppose you showing up here qualifies as asking for it."
Will's grip on the knife shifts. Her and Turner's eyes are locked together. Dick hates feeling this helpless; he's the protector, the one that fights in the stead of others. And now he's relegated to the sidelines, probably about to see the girl he cares for get killed.
Turner dives for Will and she manages to sidestep his attack and slice his arm open. He hisses in pain and, lightning quick, grabs her wrist in a tight hold. She struggles against him, kicking at his legs, but he bends her wrist till she drops the knife and then slams her against the floor.
Dick struggles against his restraints but it's useless. He's not going to be able to slip out of these chains. As Will and Turner grapple on the floor, Dick begins to yank at the chair he's bound to, hoping to loosen the screws that bolt it into the ground.
Turner manages to pin Will down and his hands go around her throat. "Turner! Stop! Stop!" Dick shouts, desperation taking over as he watches Will's face go red. She pushes back against Turner, but the effort seems futile. He's going to kill her.
~O~
When I was fourteen years old, I had a scrapbook that I wrote in like a diary. I had an entire section dedicated to what I would do when I finally turned eighteen and was free from the confines of the foster system. But that whole section was written like a dream, like a fantasy that I never expected to fulfil.
I don't think I ever truly believed that I would survive to see my eighteenth birthday.
So really dying now is ok, because I got more than I ever expected. I turned eighteen, I got to have something close to a real family. I experienced more than I could've imagined.
And yet, despite all of that…I don't feel ready. I don't want to die.
I fight back against Turner, but my energy is quickly dwindling. His hands are wrapped so tightly around my throat and no matter how hard I struggle, he refuses to let go. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dick, thrashing desperately against his restraints. If I die right now, he'll blame himself forever. I just know it. As much as I loathe to admit it, I care about him so much. I don't want the burden of my death resting on his shoulders. I don't want Rachel to be alone.
I don't want to fucking die.
Though my lungs are burning and my limbs are as heavy as stone, I am able to muster the energy to slip my legs up and plant my feet on Turner's hips. I push as hard as I can and manage to throw him off me. A set of keys fly out of his pocket and slide along the floor toward Dick.
Gasping and coughing in air, I drag myself toward the badly beaten body lying in the middle of the room. My hand closes around the handle of a splintered and wrecked baseball bat.
Turner grips my ankles and yanks me toward him, his fingers catching in my hair and tugging painfully. I flip onto my back and kick at him but he punches me across the face, making stars dance across my already blurry vision. His hands reach for my throat again and this time I see the murderous determination and delight in his eyes. He's actually enjoying this.
I kick him in the stomach but he barely grunts, his arm pressing against my windpipe. I tighten my grip around the baseball bat and drive it up. The splintered wood pierces his neck and he goes still. Eyes wide, blood dripping down onto my face. He coughs and sputters, falls off of me with a deafening thud. I turn my head and watch him slowly choke to death on his own blood, scrabbling at his throat. It takes over a minute for his body to still completely.
I can't look away, even when I hear the click of a lock coming undone and the clatter of chains falling to the ground.
Dick appears above me and finally I tear my gaze away from Turner's dead body. Dick cups the back of my head and gently sits me up. "Will…" he seems lost for words.
"I killed him," I breathe. Everything around me blends together, like it's part of a dream. "I killed all of them."
I hone in on the way Dick's throat moves as he swallows. "Everything's going to be ok. You're ok. Will, look at me." I do. His face is hard but there is warmth in his eyes. "You're ok," he repeats. I nod and he slumps back onto his hands. I bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault." I barely register the words he's saying. "This was my problem and you got dragged into it—"
"I have a sister," I interrupt him. The words seem to spill out of me, taking on a life of their own as though I have no control over them.
He pauses. "What?"
"I have a sister. Maddy. She's…She'd be fifteen now. Would've turned fifteen three months ago."
It seems to take Dick a moment to process this. "You've never spoken about her. Ever."
I shake my head. "I can't. Not even to Rachel, not really. She knows but…She doesn't really know, you know?"
"Will, I think you're in shock. And you probably have a concussion."
"That's why I got so upset at you before. I'm sorry, I didn't want to be mad at you. That's not what I want. I hate being mad at you. I hate hating you." I feel my eyes fill with tears, feel them slide down my face. Dick pulls himself forward until our legs touch and he cups my cheeks, brushing away the tears carefully with his thumbs.
"You're ok," he assures me again but I shake my head.
"I'm not. I'm not. We got split up in the foster system and I was supposed to go back for her. The second I turned eighteen I was supposed to get her. I promised. But…how can I face her? After everything? How can I-…" My voice fails completely as my body is wracked with sobs. "I cling to Rachel like—like protecting her can atone for my failure but it can't." Dick wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly. I bury my face in his shoulder and cling to him. We sit there for a long time, surrounded by two dead bodies and several more outside. The first light of sunrise begins to shine through the cabin's windows.
My tears dry and my crying stops. I am slumped into him, only half-conscious.
"We've got to get out of here. They might have a vehicle nearby," Dick says softly. He begins to lift me up but we both freeze when the door bursts open. My heart skips several beats until I look over my shoulder and slump in utter relief. Rachel, Jason and Gar stand in the doorway, like glorious angels outlined with rays of sunlight.
"Oh thank god." Rachel gasps and rushes forward as Dick and I hastily pull apart. She launches herself at me and we embrace tightly. "I thought you were gone, I was so scared." She breathes into my neck.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I repeat, smoothing down her hair and holding her as close as possible.
"I told you they'd be fine," Jason remarks. "Although Jesus Christ, Dick. You really went all out on these guys, huh?" Jason, Gar and Rachel all look around at the dead bodies in the room. I swallow thickly and stare down at the floor. Dick doesn't say anything though, just ushers us out of the cabin and into the refreshing chill of the early morning.
Rachel reaches out and takes my hand in hers. "Come on, let's go home," she says. I force a smile and nod, but I don't even think the smell of home can cover the stink of death etched into my very skin.
~O~
I look out the window of the jet, feeling a little queasy. Once we're back in San Francisco, I don't think I'm going to want to fly again for a long time. My gaze moves down to my hands. I've managed to wash most of the blood off and I'm finally in a clean set of clothes, thanks to Rachel, but I notice a small red smudge on the inside of my wrist that I must've missed.
I stand up abruptly and hurry into the plane's tiny bathroom, turning on the tap and rubbing at my hands, my wrists, all the way up to my forearms. I scrub until my skin goes red, until it hurts, until the door to the bathroom opens and Dick gently plies away the bar of soap from my grip.
He doesn't say anything as he softly washes off the remainder of the soap from me and turns the tap off. I slump back against the sink, press the heels of my hands into my eyes.
"It's ok," he says quietly and then we stand there, cramped in the bathroom, for a long time. Eventually, he takes me by the elbow and leads me out into the back seats of the plane, away from the others.
We sit across from one another, my eyes glued to the carpet beneath our feet.
"Will, what happened…it wasn't your fault. I need you to know that."
My mouth is dry, my eyes are wet. "I killed them," I breathe. "All of them."
"You never should have been in that situation. I was supposed to protect you — all of you. And I didn't." He pauses and his fingers touch my chin. He tilts my head up till our eyes meet. "This is on me. All of it."
I shake my head. "Not all of it. Some of it is just…Who I am."
"What does that mean?" He asks, but when I look at him, I see nothing but understanding. He knows what it means to be fundamentally broken.
"It means that eventually everything around me will break. I'll break it. I can't help it." I shake my head vigorously, wiping at the tears that fall down my cheeks. "It's like it follows me, like I can't shake it."
He takes my hands in his and says, "Tell me."
So I do.
"I was thirteen. Maddy was ten. I got into a fight with our foster brother and broke his wrist. He was their biological son, so they took his side. I got blacklisted after that, labelled as high risk. When you're high risk, you only get the bad foster homes. The ones where they lock you in your room at night and have bars on the windows. I didn't want that for Maddy, I wanted—…" my voice gives out and I have to take a moment. Dick squeezes my hands. "I wanted more for her, I wanted better. She was young and sweet; she had a good chance of getting adopted, but not if she was weighed down by me. I'd only make her life worse. So I requested that we be put in different homes. And I promised myself I'd go back for her but…What if she hates me?" Dick brushes away a tear from beneath my eye. I sit back, crossing my arms tightly over my chest and looking out the window of the plane. "It doesn't matter. I looked her up when we got to Titans Tower but couldn't get access to her records. I can't find her anyway."
He is pensive, as always. "Everything is going to be ok, Will," he says. "I promise." His eyes dart over my shoulder, surveying Gar, Jason and Rachel, ensuring they're preoccupied, before he leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead.
I breathe out, my chest collapsing. We hold there for one, peaceful, crystallised moment. When he pulls back, his heat goes with him. But an ember of warmth stays lit inside me.
~O~
Bruce Wayne is standing regally, set against the San Franciscan skyline, when we arrive back at Titans Towers. He turns his head as we all shuffle out of the elevator. Expensive, perfectly pressed suit, slicked back hair and carefully constructed expression; he's everything I imagined him to be.
Jason lights up and takes a step forward, but Bruce's eyes don't leave Dick for even a single moment.
"You had me worried for a moment there, son," the billionaire says as Dick moves toward him. Rachel, Gar and I bunch together; I think Gar is perhaps a little starstruck.
"A few nights in the forest," Dick shrugs. "It was more of a getaway really."
Unexpectedly, Bruce pulls Dick into a brief but tight hug. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jason turn on his heel and disappear down the hall. I squeeze Rachel's hand before slipping past the others and following Jason.
I find him in his room, roughly unpacking his overnight bag, slamming his Robin-suit case down on his desk and rattling the walls. Jason is a difficult person to like, but so am I. What he feels - the abandonment, the defensiveness, the desperate attempts to matter - I feel myself. He is a mirror, a reflection of me.
"Thanks," I say.
"For what?" He doesn't stop his choppy movements, like he wants nothing more than for me to leave.
"For coming to get me, coming to get us."
He shrugs. "I was the one that insisted you guys weren't even missing. We probably would've started searching sooner if I hadn't—"
"I don't care, Jason," I interrupt, leaning against the doorframe. "I don't care. You came and that means something. To me, anyway."
He looks at me, finally, his hands tight around a t-shirt. "You gonna cry or something?" He bites out.
I laugh, whole-heartedly, tilting my head back. After a moment, he smiles as well. I know all he wants is to be accepted by Dick, to be loved by Bruce. I can't give him either of those things, but I can give him my friendship.
"I need to sleep for about twenty hours, but the second I wake up, we're ordering pizza," I tell him.
He nods, some of the tension seeming to have drained out of his shoulders.
I leave him be and go to my room, breathing out a long sigh of something akin to relief. In the shower, I scrub my hair until I get shampoo in my eyes and brush my teeth for nearly ten minutes straight.
I am covered in various bruises, my throat is red and imprinted with Turner's fingerprints and there's a long gash on the side of my head that will definitely take days to heal. But I'm alive. A little worse for wear, but all things considered I came out the other side pretty good.
Physically, anyway.
I crawl into bed and sink into its softness. But, despite the absolute and complete exhaustion that weighs me down like stones, I am unable to sleep. I toss and I turn for so long that the sun sets and the room grows dark. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is blood and horror. All I feel is Vex Turner on top of me, strangling me, the craving of violence alight in his eyes, reflected in my own as I pierce his throat and watch him bleed.
"Fuck." I sit up, breathing heavily, panic squeezing me. I haven't slept in well over twenty-four hours, I need rest. There is a part of me that thinks I will never sleep again. The nightmares that are no doubt going to haunt me terrify me to think about.
I throw my blanket off and pad out of my bedroom. Everything is quiet and dark. Bruce Wayne must have left.
With no plan in mind, bare feet cold against the tiled floor, I somehow find myself outside Dick's room. I slowly open the door, just a sliver. It's dark, but he's awake, lying in bed with his arm under his head. He sits up as light from the hallway spills inside in long, yellow shards.
"What's wrong?" He asks, always alert, always ready for a battle. I shrug and shake my head.
This seems to make him understand. I wonder how many nights he has spent awake, thinking of the violence and destruction caused at his hands?
He moves over to make room for me in the bed and I slip into his room completely, closing the door behind me and locking it. The tension leaves me the moment I'm beneath his duvet, my head resting on a pillow that smells of him. I reach out and touch his bare chest, feel his heart beneath my palm, and breathe a sigh of relief. He turns to face me and runs his fingers through my hair, still somehow slightly damp from my shower. When he kisses me, my cheeks cupped in his grip, it is tenderly and with his utmost attention.
He's a good kisser, sure and steady. He knows exactly how to tilt my head and how to coax my tongue into his mouth. I follow his lead, fumbling to keep up, trying to pretend that I know exactly what I'm doing. I hold onto his wrists, wanting more. But now that I'm relaxed, the exhaustion is overwhelming me. He seems to sense this because he pulls back an inch, our lips still brushing.
His thumbs smooth across my cheekbones as my eyes close, as he lays my head back down against the pillow, as I fall asleep.
~O~
I wake up late, nearly midday, to the shower running in Dick's ensuite. I bury my face in the pillow and inhale deeply. My stomach curls and twists. I've never been in love before - is this what it feels like? Wanting to be engulfed by another person? Wanting to drown myself in him?
I sit up, trying to shake off that feeling. It's a little too close to dependence for my comfort. When the shower turns off and Dick comes out in a towel, he says, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," is my immediate and automatic response. I watch him closely as he gets dressed, studying the lines of his back, the moving muscles of his arms. He doesn't seem to mind.
"You should probably see a doctor," he says it like he knows I'll refuse. He's right.
"I'm fine," I repeat, though my fingers touch my throat, the skin stinging at even the slightest contact.
He shakes his head, yanks a t-shirt over his head. "I have to call Hank, Dawn and Donna."
"Why?"
"Vex Turner said he built a secret arms-dealing empire. I want them to look into it, maybe they can figure out his home base and take it down. I think it'll be near where we were, in Canada."
"Isn't that our job? As the Titans? I thought they were retired and we were the new squad." There is a hint of bitterness in my voice or reluctance, perhaps.
He looks at me, worry hidden in every crevice of his face. I hate it, hate that expression, so I glance away and get out of the bed, smoothing my hair down.
"We're not ready yet," is all he replies. I move toward the door.
"Rachel can't know…" I trail off, can't meet his eye. "She just can't know." About this. About us.
"I know," he says, but there is a heaviness in his voice. I open the door and slip out into the hallway, adjusting my shirt. I look up and there is Jason, standing two doors down, staring at me.
His expression tightens, lips pursing, jaw clenching. Shit. I open my mouth to say something, to try to explain why I'm leaving Dick's bedroom in my pyjamas, but before I can get out a word, Jason turns and walks away.
Cursing, I seek Rachel out. She's in her room, reading on her computer. Some book about strategy that Dick assigned to her, I'm sure.
"Hey," she smiles at me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. I want her to feel this happiness forever, wish I could hold her in a bubble of this moment. I sit down on her bed beside her, resting my legs against hers. "I missed you," she says, leans her head on my shoulder. "You're not allowed to ever leave me like that again." She's partially joking, but mostly serious.
I swallow thickly and force a small smile.
~O~
I must doze off on Rachel's shoulder, because I wake to the sound of shouting. We both hurry out into the living area to find Dick and Jason glaring at one another.
"I'm tired of taking orders from you! What do we even need you for? We managed just fine while you were off in the middle of fucking nowhere," Jason snaps viciously.
"What's going on?" Rachel questions, wide-eyed. Gar is leaning against the kitchen bench, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I'm sick of taking orders from him! We should be out there, actually doing something, and instead we're stuck in here simply because he says so!" Jason gestures to the city beyond.
"You're picking a fight for no reason," I tell him. "Just drop it."
His eyes turn to me and he stalks forward. "Of course you come to his defence."
"What's your problem?" I face him strongly, glaring.
"My problem is this whole fucking, useless place. I mean, let's be real, Dick only opened it back up so that you and the freak would have somewhere to go—"
My gaze darkens at him calling Rachel a freak. "Fuck you," I bite out.
A sinister smirk pulls at his lips. "Well," he says, "since you're making the rounds—"
I clock him in the jaw, my knuckles meeting bone. He stumbles back then surges toward me.
Dick yanks him away, Rachel pulls me to her side.
"Enough!" Dick demands, his tone leaving no room for argument. He shoves Jason back roughly, who stumbles into a wall. His shirt is torn and there's a trickle of blood down the corner of his mouth. Hatred spills from him in waves, irradiating the entire penthouse.
I turn on my heel and march back to my room, slamming the door closed and collapsing to the ground. After a few moments, the door opens and Rachel comes inside. She sits down beside me, our knees knocking.
"You ok?"
I nod.
"What did Jason mean? 'Making the rounds'?" She asks and my throat tightens. I shake my head.
"Who knows? He's a fucking asshole and he's lashing out because he can't control his emotions."
I look at her and see disappointment carved onto her face. She gets up and slips out the door without another word.
~O~
The bright light of the large screen gives Dick a headache. He sits back in the swivelling chair, staring up at a photo of a smiling girl.
Madison Moore.
The picture is over five years old, from when she was about ten. Dick can see the resemblance, the shining blonde hair and the golden skin. There is no doubt that this is Will's sister.
During his time with Detroit PD, he met a lot of social workers. He called in a favour and got Maddy's file sent over. It is a grim read. Foster home to foster home, at first paired with Will. But then alone, bouncing between families. The file reads like a slow descent into chaos. At first, Maddy was a model child, no issues reported in the home. But after she was separated from Will, the complaints began. Tantrums that foster parents couldn't handle, running away, stealing and drug use.
Eventually, she disappeared entirely. No one has seen or heard from her in well over a year. Will is going to be devastated.
He prints out all the information from the file and collates it into a manila folder, but doesn't get up to go and find Will. He can't; he's too selfish. The moment she discovers her sister is missing and has been for a year, guilt will overwhelm her. And then it's only a matter of time before she'll decide she needs to go and find her sister herself. Willow will leave and there's a good chance she won't come back.
Let her go, a part of him says. The moral part, the part his parents instilled, the part that has persevered all these years despite so much agony.
I want her to stay, another part says, the part that Bruce Wayne forced into creation, the part that fights for Dick Grayson when no one else will.
He runs a hand down his face, wishing things were simpler. He knows what the right thing to do is and he knows that ultimately he will end up doing it. But for now, he slips the manila folder into the desk drawer. For now, he will hold onto Will a little bit longer.
~O~
That night when Will crawls into bed with him, he cradles her body beneath him and kisses her till she's gasping for air. He can't get enough of the small sounds she makes when he touches her, his hand down her pyjama shorts. Her knees open and her back arches, eyes closed and lips parted. She's beautiful, perfect.
He is careful not to irritate the bruises on her neck, running his lips softly over her skin. He unbuttons her top and takes off her shorts. She tries to pull his clothes off too but he gently takes her wrists and moves them above her head. A frustrated noise leaves her mouth and he smiles, just a little. Their lips meet, sliding together. He moves down her naked body, touching her waist and her hips, settles between her thighs. This makes her a little uncomfortable, he can tell by the way she props herself up on her elbows, her shoulders winding tight. In an attempt to soothe her, he kisses the inside of her leg, such soft skin against his face.
He'd tell her that it's ok, reassure her quietly that he wants every part of her, if he thought that would help. But it'd only make her clam up more, make her defensive. And that's the last thing he wants. So he soothes her not with his words, but with his tongue. Pressed against her, she quickly forgets her discomfort and falls back against the pillows, moaning his name softly. They have to be quiet, with Gar across the hall and Jason only a few rooms down.
Dick hasn't done the sneak around thing since his high school days, when he would climb through girls' windows to avoid their parents or when he would sneak girls into Wayne Manor even though Bruce wouldn't have cared. He's too old for it now, really. But he'll have Will in whatever way he can, for however long he can.
He tears open a condom and slides it on, thinks of the way he fucked her in the forest with no protection and tries to sweep away the guilt, then brackets her in with his arms. Usually, there is nothing soft about Will. She is unshakeable strength and biting resilience and rough as a street kid. But beneath his hands, she is only softness. He sinks deep into her and she clutches his shoulders.
"Dick," she breathes and buries her face in his chest.
After, she leans her head on his shoulder and traces the various scars spindling across his abdomen.
"This one?" She asks, touching a faded scar imprinted above his hip.
"Training when I was fifteen. Bruce was faster. Wasn't a mistake I made again," he says, recalling the slice of the blade against his flesh, Bruce's blank expression as Dick cleaned the bleeding wound.
"He seemed…." She trails off, can't seem to find the right adjective. "Rich."
Dick laughs. "That's because he is."
"Yeah obviously. It's definitely not your cop wage paying for this place."
He laughs again, bends his head so he can better see her smile that she presses into his skin.
They both go quiet after a moment and he says, "He was worried, while we were missing."
"You sound surprised," she notes.
He shakes his head. "I'm not." Changes his mind. "Maybe I am. It's not often that Bruce Wayne is…agitated."
"A grown man that has problems expressing his emotions. Shocking," she mutters. "That's probably why Jason is constantly seeking approval, 'cause Bruce never gives him anything."
Dick lets out a long breath and sits up more. She follows suit, holding the sheet to her chest.
"He's not doing well here," he says, staring at the wall across the room.
"Maybe he should go back to Gotham," she suggests and Dick rubs the back of his head.
"I don't know. Leaving him alone with Bruce, it just doesn't…feel right."
Being raised by people who are not your parents, who want you for something rather than have you to love you, is a complicated thing. When he looks at her, he can see she understands this, better than most.
He presses a kiss to her forehead and lies back down, coaxing her into his side. She puts her ear to his chest to listen to his heartbeat and he holds her tightly, feels her fall asleep against him. He doesn't sleep though - can't. He lies awake and wonders how he can do what's best for everyone and keep his sanity too.
~O~
It's been a week since Dick and I returned to San Francisco and things are slowly falling back into our old routine. Gar and Rachel spar together, Jason sulks and trains by himself and Dick does his best to keep the peace.
It's nearly midday when I go in search of Rachel, wanting to check in with her and ask how she's been sleeping. I find her in the control room, the screens bright and shining against her skin. Her face is intense, looking through a manila folder.
"Hey, can we talk?" I ask her, walking up to the control desk and leaning my hip against it. She doesn't even look up at me, still engrossed in whatever she's reading. "Rachel?"
"Have you seen this?" Finally her eyes lift to mine and I see unshed tears in them. Immediately, I go tense.
"What is it?" I take the file from her hands and skim through it. My blood runs cold.
Down the hallway, past the training room and into the kitchen, I stop on the other side of the bench from Dick and Gar. I toss the folder onto the kitchen counter and stare at him. "Where did you get this?"
Besides Rachel, Dick is the only one that knows about my sister.
He closes his eyes and blows out a breath. "A friend from CPS sent it over."
"How long have you had it?" I demand.
"Uh…what's going on?" Gar questions.
"A few days," Dick admits.
"How could you keep this from me?"
"I was going to tell you—"
"Were you?" I interrupt. "When? When it suited you? When you found it convenient to do so?"
"Can we talk about this in private, please?" He asks but I shake my head, snatching the folder back up and turning on my heel.
I slam the door to my room closed behind me loudly and then spend a long time pouring over every ounce of information in the folder. My tears fall onto the paper and smudge the ink. I study the photo of Maddy's face closely and carefully, trace every line of her hair with my finger.
When Dick comes in, I wipe my cheeks and try to stop crying. My anger at him has been replaced by hollow despondency.
"I should've told you," he says quietly, crossing his arms across his chest. "I just…" he shakes his head.
"What?" I sniffle.
"I didn't want you to leave. I was being selfish, I know that."
I look back down at the folder. "I did this to her." My voice breaks and cracks. "All of this. I left her alone, I thought it would be better—"
"Will, you were a child. None of it is your fault."
"It's my responsibility," I say. "She's my responsibility." We look at each other and I think is this heartbreak? Is love just heartbreak over and over again?
He nods, his mouth tight. I've never seen him this close to tears before. "I'll come with you," he tries but I'm already shaking my head.
"They need you here. Rachel needs you, if I'm…." I put my face in my hands and feel my fingers grow wet.
He reaches into his pocket and places a business card on the bed beside me. "Madison's old case worker. She's in Cleveland. You should start there."
Our eyes meet and I want to say something, to tell him how he drives me crazy and makes me feel things I've never felt. But there's a soft knock on the door and Rachel's head pops in. Dick turns away so she doesn't see how upset he is.
"I'll give you two a moment," he manages to get out before slipping past her. She comes and sits on the edge of my bed.
"You have to go find her, huh?" She says and I nod.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"
"Stop." She takes my hands and begins to cry. "You have done everything for me, Will. You have given up everything, over and over again. I can't tell you how grateful I am for that, for everything. You have to do this and I want you to know—I want you to know I understand. And I love you."
I hug her tightly, feeling her face turn into my neck. "I love you, Rach."
"I'm going to be ok," she hiccups. "I'm going to be fine."
She doesn't need me anymore. It's a truth that has been slowly unfurling for some time now. I thought that when it came to fruition, I would be lost, heartbroken, directionless. But instead it just feels freeing, a weight lifted from my shoulders.
I try to pack everything I own into my duffel bag and realise that it won't all fit. I'm going to have to leave some clothes behind. It's the first time in as long as I can remember that I own more than I can carry in a single bag.
Rachel walks me to the elevator where Gar and Dick are both waiting. I hug Gar but can't even look at Dick. Jason comes down the hallway and stops, leans against the wall. I give him a tight smile and, after a moment, he returns it. I feel better knowing he doesn't hate me. Gar presses the elevator button and it opens with a ding. I step inside, my hand slipping out of Rachel's grip.
Just as the doors are about to slide shut, Dick steps forward like he wants something. Like he wants to kiss me. I give a small, imperceptible shake of my head. We can't in front of the others and besides, it would just make this hurt more. It would only make our separation worse.
The doors slide closed and he is gone from sight.
~O~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Guys I literally cried writing this chapter. I fully intend to continue this story, but if I were to end it early this would be where.
Anyway I love Will and Dick and I love Will and Rachel so much.
Thank you so much to my readers and especially to those who leave words of encouragement! Interaction means the most to content creators.