Chapter 18
4 Months Later
Police lights flicker against the side of the abandoned building. Dick watches from the shadows as the group of arms dealers are hauled away in handcuffs. They are the last of Vex Turner's crew, who continued to operate even after their leader's death. With all of them locked up, perhaps Dick can finally get a decent night's sleep. Ever since chatter began that there was a bounty on the head of whoever killed Turner, Dick has been sick with worry for Will. As far as he knows, no one knows the true identity of Turner's killer but he can't be sure about that, can't be sure that she's safe.
He retreats to the back of the building, where Gar, Jason and Rachel are waiting for him.
"That's it. The last of them. We did it," Gar beams, ever a shining source of optimism. Rachel smiles as well.
"Will's safe now," she says, a wistful note in her voice. Dick knows how much she misses her friend, how much this separation has pained her. He's heard her crying in her room, seen her looking over her shoulder like she expects Will to just materialise out of thin air and be there, a strong, silent supporter. Will's absence has been an adjustment for all of them.
"Let's get out of here before the cops come back here," Jason says impatiently, the word 'cops' rolling off his tongue like one might say 'bastards'.
Back at Titans Tower, Dick stops by Rachel's room to check on her.
"You don't have to keep doing this - checking in on me, you know," she says, seeing right through him as she always has. "I'm alright."
He shrugs, leaning against the doorframe. "Just making sure."
She looks down, pulling at a loose thread on her sweater. "I mean…I miss her. I really do. But I get why she had to go and—and I know she can look after herself. Besides," she shakes her head. "She's going to come back. Soon, I'm sure."
Dick isn't so sure, but he doesn't say that aloud. Instead he says, "I'm proud of you. Of all of you. You've pulled together as a team."
"We've pulled together," she corrects. "We wouldn't be a team without you."
He forces a small smile, tries to pretend that he doesn't think about leaving them everyday to go in search of Will. But she would really hate him forever if he did that, if he left Rachel behind. When Will left, it was under the guise that Dick would take care of Rachel and he can't fail her now.
"Get some sleep," he tells her, knowing that the past few nights Gar has been sneaking into her room. They think they are so secretive, so stealth, but Dick knows all the tricks in the book. He'd talk to her about it, but he isn't sure what he'd say. He isn't her father and doesn't feel like he has a right to demand to know what's going on. Another pang in his chest; he wishes Will was here again. She would know exactly what's going on with Rachel and Gar, would know exactly what to say to Rachel.
In the dark living room, the only lights being the twinkling of the buildings set against the night sky, Dick's phone rings.
Unknown number.
Frowning, he answers, "Hello?"
"It's—it's me," a familiar voice. Dick's breathing stops.
"Willow?" The name is past his lips before he can even form a coherent thought.
There's a pause, a static crackle. "I need you."
~O~
The address Will gave him leads to a rundown motel on the outskirts of Indianapolis. The fluorescent lights flicker as he strides down the cement hallway, toward room number 17. He stops outside the door, noting the crooked numbers that hang like they're about to fall.
After her phone call, he rushed to get to Indiana as quickly as possible. Flew on the jet, sped in the rental car from the airport all the way here and yet now, he hesitates. He has no idea what he will find on the other side of the door.
His hand twists the handle; it's unlocked.
The room is bathed in almost complete darkness, a sliver of light shining from beneath the bathroom door.
Will sits on the edge of the bed, as still as stone. Her blonde hair - long now, hanging down well past her collarbones - curtains her face. Her shoulders are slumped and she doesn't even flinch at the sound of the door opening. Her untouched duffel bag lies at her feet, her denim jacket discarded haphazardly on the ugly, mottled carpet.
A bottle of pills sits on the bedside table, the cap off and more than a few of the pills missing.
Dick swallows past a lump in his throat.
"Will?" He speaks gently, not wanting to startle her. She blinks up at him blearily, red eyed. He's not sure if it's from crying or from the drugs. He crouches before her and takes her hands. They're ice cold. "What happened?"
"I found her," Will breathes. The brokenness in her gaze is something he hasn't seen on her before, not even after they escaped Vex Turner. A tear slips down her pale cheek. "In a grave in New Crown Cemetery."
Fuck.
His eyes slide closed momentarily. When he opens them it's to see her face crumbling.
"They dragged her out of the river six months ago…" Will lets out a sob and then another and another. He surges forward and holds her tightly, sits beside her on the bed and lets her crawl into his lap as she falls apart. Her cries are not shallow or light, they are deep, resonating throughout her whole body and shaking her to the core. She clings to him, presses herself against him as though she wants him to swallow her whole.
Powerless to do anything but cradle her, he presses his lips to her temple and tightens his arms around her. There is nothing he can say to soothe this pain. He knows it well, felt it when his parents died, slipped right from his grasp. The grief that comes with losing someone in this way makes a permanent mark on a person. She won't recover from this, not fully. God knows he never did.
Eventually, she falls asleep against him and he lays her very gently onto the bed, pulls the blanket up over her shoulders. Her cheeks are hollow, her collarbones jutting from her skin. His hand slides down her body and he can feel every one of her ribs, even through the fabric of the blanket and her shirt.
As he always does, he regrets his actions. He should've gone with her, should've never let her venture off alone. He should've called Donna and Kory and told them that he needed them to come to Titans Tower and stay with Gar, Rachel and Jason. He should've never let her face this horrible quest by herself. But he did and he can't take it back now. There is a part of him that knows they will never be able to put one another first, will always be fighting to protect others and that will always get in the way of them - of whatever it is they have. He wants to be able to say he'd let the world burn to save her, but what kind of man would that make him? A pretty selfish one, he thinks. Not one worthy of her, that's for sure.
~O~
It's early morning when she wakes.
She stretches and blinks blearily up at him and for one blissful moment, it's like she's forgotten. Forgotten all the bad things, all the pain and anguish and guilt. She looks at him like she loves him, like he is everything she's ever wanted or needed, filled with warmth and joy.
Then, as quickly as the moment began, it's over. The pain is back and the light in her eyes is extinguished.
She sits up.
"I haven't paid for the motel room yet," she says.
"I'll take care of it," he says and she doesn't protest. This worries him more than anything. She looks at the bedside table, where her bottle of pills had sat, and goes very still.
"What did you do?" She demands and he presses his lips together, looking down.
"I flushed them."
She swears under her breath, kicking the blankets off and marching into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her. He can hear her rummaging around for a few minutes in the cupboards and when she comes back out, she's calmer.
She's got another stash, then. He doesn't try to take them off her, doesn't want to start a fight. He just picks up her bag and takes it down to the car before paying the bill.
On the car ride to the airport, she is silent, her forehead resting against the window. He wants to say something to make her feel better, but what could he possibly say?
When they enter the jet, she goes straight to the bathroom again and stays in there till the plane is about to take off. Dick is about to knock on the door and ask her if she's ok when she slips back out, past him and into one of the leather seats. He sits down tentatively across from her as she leans her head back, pupils blown.
She's high.
He just hopes she'll have sobered up by the time they get back to San Francisco. He doesn't want Rachel seeing her like this and he thinks sober Will - the one who's actually in control of her own actions - wouldn't want to expose Rachel to this version of herself either.
"I know that this pain feels like it's going to last forever," he says slowly as the jet takes off. "But I promise it won't. It'll…get easier."
"I don't need a fucking lecture on grief, Dick," she says, her head lolling onto her shoulder, her eyes narrowing.
He leans forward, clasping his hands together. "Look, you're going through one of the worst things that anyone could experience. But you're not alone, Will. You have Rachel and Gar and Jason…And me."
She shakes her head. "I don't have you," she says airily, like it doesn't hurt her at all. "I never really did."
He wishes he could tell her just how wrong she is. She has him in a goddamn chokehold and has ever since he found her passed out in the street outside his police precinct.
Her hair hangs limply over her shoulders, but the sun shines through the plane's windows and burnishes it golden. Even like this, messy and underweight and grief stricken and high, she is beautiful. And he is hers.
"Taking pills isn't going to make this hurt any less," he says, instead of all the things he wants to say.
"I don't know," she breathes. "I feel pretty good right now." And she sinks further down into the leather and dozes off for the next two hours.
Some mild turbulence wakes her about halfway through their flight and she stumbles back to the bathroom. Dick is sure she's going to take more pills but instead he hears the shower start up.
For a few moments - barely a minute - he indulges himself in a small fantasy. In his imagination, he gets up and slips into the bathroom, steam fogging the mirrors. As expected, it's a luxurious and spacious bathroom for a plane; after all, it is owned by Bruce Wayne. Dick strips off his clothes and lets them fall beside hers, then climbs into the shower. She's standing there, water cascading over her skin, and she looks up at him with nothing but desire. Clear-eyed and pupils blown wide not from drugs, but from arousal.
When he opens his eyes, still seated in the chair, he thinks perhaps his fantasy was so vivid that it came to life, because Will is standing in front of him in nothing but a towel. Her skin glistens, water dripping from her hair.
He curls his hands into careful fists. "What are you doing?"
She walks closer to him, one foot in front of the other, and then stops right before him. Slowly, she sits over him, a knee on either side of his legs, still holding the towel around her.
"Will…" whatever protest he's about to voice dies in his throat when she leans down and kisses his neck. "Fuck," he breathes, her lips like bolts of electricity against his skin. He has missed her so fucking much and he wants nothing more than to touch her, to feel every inch of her pressed against him.
But this is wrong.
"Stop, stop." He puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes her back lightly. She sits up, looking at him. Tiny drops of water adorn her eyelashes, brushing against her cheeks every time she blinks. He swallows hard and strengthens his resolve.
"I thought you wanted this." There is a coldness in her voice that tells Dick he's made the right decision.
"I do. You know I do. But this isn't right. You're still high and you're upset."
She gets off him without another word and goes over to her bag. He can do nothing but watch as she drops the towel and quickly gets dressed, pulling up a pair of underwear over her slender legs, clipping her bra into place and sliding into her jeans and a t-shirt.
Once she's dressed, she thuds back down onto the furthest seat from him and turns her head away, looking out the window and to the blue abyss beyond.
~O~
Rachel waits anxiously in front of the elevator, pacing back and forth, chewing at her nails and cringing at the taste of black nail polish.
"Rach, stressing about it isn't going to make her get here any sooner," Gar says.
"I know. But I just…I need to see her. Right now." The urgency in Rachel's voice rings throughout the tiled foyer. "I need to make sure she's ok."
"Her sister just died, Rach. She's not going to be ok," Gar reminds her gently.
The elevator bings and they both stand to attention when the doors slide open, revealing Dick and Will.
Rachel's heart plummets and pounds in her chest. Willow moves slowly out of the elevator, barely meeting Rachel's gaze. Her hair hangs around her shoulders, cheeks hollow and eyes downcast.
"I'm so sorry," Rachel breathes and she throws herself at her best friend, wrapping her arms around Will's shoulders tightly. But Will does not reciprocate the hug. She is limp and frail in Rachel's grip, a dead weight on two legs.
When Rachel pulls back, she sees it; the cloudiness in Will's eyes, the loose pout of her lips. It's a look Rachel knew well, from back when they were in school; she's high.
"I really missed you," Rachel manages to get out, her throat constricting and making it hard to speak.
"Yeah. Yeah, I missed you too," Will says, but there is no emotion, none of that soul-deep love that is usually shared between them. "I'm gonna…get settled in." She takes her bag from Dick's hands and moves past Rachel, down the hallway and in the direction of her old room.
Heartbroken, Rachel does her best not to cry, holding her breath until she's sure she isn't going to sob. Gar puts his hand on her shoulder.
"Look…" Dick rubs the back of his neck, looking almost as emotionally drained as Will did. "She's grieving right now, Rach. But she'll come around."
"Yeah, she just needs some time, then she'll be back to her old self," Gar adds on, though Dick doesn't look like he quite agrees with that statement.
But Rachel shakes her head, a single tear managing to escape her eye. She's been Will's closest friend for many years now, so she knows that the only thing Will ever loved more than Rachel, was her sister. And now her sister is dead.
And Rachel is pretty sure that it's all her fault.