I4.6
Chapter 39: You. Us.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Adult themes. DO NOT read if you are underage or dislike controversial things.
Author's Note: I know that I've been away for a bit *cough2monthscough.* Life has been a bit rough recently, but I'm still working on this story to take my mind off it. Enjoy!
The low humming of the massive computer in the Titan Tower's command center sounds deafening in the silence of the room.
Father looks at son. Son looks away. Whether out of shame or intimidation is anyone's guess, but there is no need to guess at Richard's discomfort in the presence of his mentor. He warily watches as the Caped Cruiser glides into the command center on silent feet. Richard's pensive eyes track the older man who makes a beeline to the main computer and pulls up live coverage of today's earlier events.
"What an eventful day," he states as Richard fully steps into the room. The quite swish of the door sliding shut sounds louder than it normally would. He checks his urge to swallow.
"What an eventful ending," he replies while trying to sound as nonchalant as the man he once greatly admired.
They both watch the flurry of images on the big screen and Batman reaches down to turn up the volume so that they both can hear.
"This just in!" comes an excited reporter's voice as the words BREAKING NEWS flashes across the screen in the dark room. "There has been an attack in our city! From what we have been able to gather so far from eyewitness testimony and cellphone videos, it appears as though five large, hooded figures have attacked the city and have seriously injured a member of the Titans. As of right now, it is unconfirmed whether or not the city's very own Raven was their intended target, but it appears as though she is the only member of the group to sustain the most damage from this encounter."
Richard winces at the reporter's retelling of events because Raven was their intended target. Those men wanted to suck the soul out of his love, and he was damn near powerless to stop it. He frowns at the thought and looks down at his hands. Flexing his gloved fingers before tightening them into hard fists.
"That's guilt you're feeling," Bruce's deep voice overrides the rest of what the reporter has been saying. "Let it go. It won't do you any good in the future. You should be focusing all that energy on reconnaissance."
Richard can feel his jaw tighten at Bruce's words. Nothing he said was particularly wrong or offensive, but the younger man just wasn't ready to have his mentor comment on his short comings. The arrival of these demonic men just reaffirmed to him that he is a human fighting against much more powerful beings than himself. It's not like he didn't know this already. He lives with people who come from extraordinary places and can do extraordinary things. However, every time they encounter a new adversary, he couldn't help but feel little. Lost in the shadow of much bigger fish with sharper teeth.
The teeth of these men are shaped much like Rachel's. Their powers are familiar to him but vastly different than what he's used to. When his love calls upon her dark powers, he can feel his skin begin to tingle and the hairs on the back of his neck and arms will rise. The negative energy will respond to her and do her bidding with very little trouble. She uses it as though it is a tool. Like a spoon, hammer, net. There was no malice in it. It was then that Richard realized that it was the lack of malicious intent that distinguished Rachel's power from the cloaked figures. The tendrils of dark energy that laced themselves around her limbs and delicate neck felt alive and...hungry. Greedy. Gluttonous. They were consuming everything that she had to offer like a predator would consume its prey. To the death.
A shiver runs down Richard's spine at the realization that these men came to kill...but then why did the leader stop him from choking Rachel to "death?" Does she lose all her powers once she's dead? If that were the case, then won't it make sense to keep her alive for as long as possible so they can leech off as much of her energy as possible before she finally gives out? The supply would definitely be greater that way. Why were they in such a hurry to drain her dry in public like that?
"What are your hypotheses?"
Richard is startled out of his thoughts. He hadn't noticed when Bruce made himself comfortable in his office chair with special padding for lumbar support. Lord knows he's thrown his back out more than once from crime fighting. He watches as Bruce simultaneously keeps his ears on the newscaster while his eyes are scanning through various articles and media posts about today's incident. Apparently, the web doesn't know what they want to focus on. There were so many suggestive occurrences during the news conference to unpack that it left many people speculating whether or not the conference is somehow related to the attack.
"I have no grounded, evidence based hypothesis," Richard replies as he walks closer to his mentor, "Just a lot of questions."
"Share them," is the curt reply. On a separate screen, Batman pulls up as many videos of the attack as he can. He begins playing them on a loop.
"Well," he begins, "I have strong reason to believe that these figures are somehow related to Rachel."
"That is a given," comes a reply as the older man leans back into his chair. He steeples his fingers before him as he watches and re-watches the footage on the screen.
"The powers that they're using...the negative energy," he responds, "it's like hers, but very different. More harmful."
There's a snort from the man in the chair. "They're all using demonic energy to fight. You don't think that your little pet can do damage?"
"She's not a pet, she's a person, Batman," Richard says through gritted teeth. "She can do a lot of damage...and it'd be best for you to remember that."
"Such a weak threat," he counters. "If I thought she was a creditable danger, she would have been dealt with a long time ago. What you're saying, however, is that she and they use the same demonic energy which should mean that they can be dealt with in a similar way as well."
"Whatever contingency plan you have for Rachel might not work on them," Richard says as he points to the screen. He makes a mental note to unearth whatever plan Bruce might have squirreled away for his love. The thought of him having that ace up his sleeve didn't sit right with him. "While their powers function the same, it didn't feel the same. There was something almost 'alive' about the demonic energy that they used. Almost like it has a mind of it's own."
Richard shakes his head as he struggles to find words to describe what he experienced. "It's hard to put into words. It's something that you'd have to feel to understand. Rachel's magic isn't 'alive.' It doesn't have its own agency. It does what she tells it to do."
"Are you sure that your judgment isn't clouded because she's her?"
It is a simple question. Richard shouldn't be offended by it. There's a rational part of him that understands the necessity of it. He's grown up with her, lives with her, has feelings for her. No one will sugarcoat the darkness of another person's soul quite like someone in love. How often do friends and family of murderers try to downplay how awful that person is? Or look the other way when someone they care about is destroying themselves with their vices? Richard knows that question is genuine with merits, but he couldn't help but feel as though that inquiry is just adding insult to injury. This surprise attack and Rachel's resulting injuries reflect poorly on him as a leader and as a man.
"I'm sure of it," Richard all but snaps his response. He is greeted with a sharp look from his mentor that quickly turns into one of appraisal. Thankfully, the older man decides to say nothing and turns his attention back to the screen before him.
The reporter on the news swings her arms out behind her as she says, "As you can clearly see, there has been a lot of damage done today. The city's cleanup crew is on the scene. Picking up the fallen debris and assessing the structural damage done to the nearby buildings…"
"It appears a though Starfire hasn't fully regained control of her powers," states Batman as he gestures to the screen. Someone had recorded cellphone video of the aerial fight between the alien princess and the cloaked figures. It was clear to see how unsteady she had been in the air. Very unlike her usual, graceful, self. Richard's brows knit together as he watches her narrowly dodge an attack from the enemy. Her fine motor skills are still compromised from when he drugged her with I4.6. He had assumed that the aftereffects would have worn away by now since the chemical had been administered topically so it wasn't as potent as what Beastboy received. That was definitely not the case as her fire bolt narrowly misses the henchmen on the ground. It should have been an easy shot.
"It looks like I4.6 is more potent than either of us realize," he replies as he continues to the watch the footage of her wayward strikes. She looks like an awkward amateur trying to learn how her limbs work.
"At least she still has enough skill to hold her own, even though she is compromised," Batman states with a slight head nod of approval. Both men look on in silence as the images play across the screen. An unsteady video of Richard and the group's leader is playing on the lower left-hand corner. It catches the younger man's attention because he hadn't realized that someone would be crazy enough to get that close to a dangerous fight just to stream it. Clearly, all of his attention had been focused on the woman in his arms and the ugly assailant before him. Even though the person recording wasn't close enough to pick up on the words that were being exchanged, he or she was able to capture the encounter.
"You said...you said in the medic bay that you didn't understand what they were saying," Batman comments as he continues to analyze the footage on the screen.
Richard works to keep his facial expression neutral as he replies, "That's because I don't. He was trying to speak to me in his alien language and I couldn't understand one word that he said."
The room falls silent as they both continue to watch the clip on repeat. "This looks very much like a conversation to me, Nightwing."
Richard furrows his brows at the use of his new hero's name. The mocking tone annoys him because he knows that Bruce is being patronizing. He is also highly frustrated with how intuitive the old bat is. Anyone else would look at the video clip and assume that Richard is shouting the typical hero lines at the villain attempting to do harm to his beloved city, but Batman is not anyone. He is a detective on steroids.
"I couldn't make sense of what he was saying," restates Richard, "but I was able to pick up a word or two. The language isn't like the one Rachel uses, but there were some words and phrases that sounded familiar to my ear. Almost like Spanish and Italian. They share some similarities, but they are definitely not the same."
"Then what were you able to understand?" Asks the older man as his eyes hone in on the video as it repeats itself. He's paying special attention to Richard's lips, as though he can read them.
"Barely a few words," he says as his mind is working overtime to figure out exactly how much to share. He didn't want to have to share all he knew this soon without being able to mull it over first. "I understood the word for 'power,' and 'mine.'"
"Any fool could have guessed that," says Batman. "They were clearly there to harvest this girl's powers. There has to be other things that were said and that you understood."
Richard hesitates before continuing with "He wanted to sacrifice her for more power and believed that it was his right. That she belonged to them and that he would take what was his."
"To do what with?" inquires his mentor. "Open up another portal for Trigon? Or was it to take over the world, himself?"
Richard shakes his head because he truly doesn't know. They didn't get that far into the conversation. He was trying to get them to leave.
"I'm assuming the witch taught you how to speak their tongue," Batman states more than asks.
"She is not a witch. Stop calling her that," mumbles Richard before continuing with "She wanted to learn other earth languages, so I told her that I would teach her one if she taught me one."
The memory of that conversation tugs at his lips and heart strings. She was so adorably unsure of her request that the first time she attempted to ask, she couldn't bring herself to do it and practically melted into a wall. Rachel had been so young then. Her place in this world had not yet been solidified and her relationship to him had been distant. It wasn't until her third attempt that she finally found her voice. They both bonded over their shared envy of Starfire's ability to learn languages through a kiss, but by the end of the conversation they realized just how unsanitary that could be. And how awkward it would be to kiss each other. In hindsight, he should have asked her to try and see if it works. Maybe he would have realized that his feelings for Starfire were misplaced much sooner. At the very least, his lips would have been the first to touch hers. So many missed opportunities, but he was glad that he didn't tell her that he was too busy, which he had been very tempted to do.
He had also been perplexed when she requested that he teach her Latin. It's considered a dead language, but she wanted to learn how to read the older earth texts. So, they decided to make a trade. He would teach her one of their dead languages, if she taught him one of theirs. Needless to say, she was a much quicker study than he was and picked up Latin without much trouble. It was those countless hours of study filled with misreading, misinterpreting and mispronouncing words and phrases that helped both introverted birds bridge the gap with something that they both enjoyed doing. Solving puzzles.
"Teach me, Robin. I want to learn."
Such innocent words had been spoken in earnest and his pride swelled at the thought of being someone's teacher, mentor, master. He still has so many things left to show her. If only she'd stop being so bloody stubborn.
"And all you managed to pick up was a couple of words and phrases?" inquires Bruce in the tone of a disappointed parent.
"I didn't think I would actually need it," he states in his defense. "It was just a hobby. A bonding experience for the both of us."
"Huh," huffs Batman, "is that where your infatuation started?"
Richard has to beat down the urge to start yelling. He's tired of constantly having to defend his feelings for Rachel to the people he's the closest to. They should be the ones accepting that she's someone he wants to be with and welcoming her with open arms.
"What I feel is not infatuation," he states in as even a tone as possible, "I really do care for her as more than just a friend."
There is a pause from the large man sitting in the chair. His eyes are assessing Richard as though seeing him for the first time. As though, he is starting to believe what his adopted son has been saying. "Be that as it may, I still do not believe that she can be trusted. Her powers are too unpredictable, and she's clearly connected to beings would are other worldly and can do some serious damage."
Richard's eyes follow the gloved finger that's pointing to the screen and the hulking henchmen destroying the city. His brows furrow at the hypocrisy of it all. "You can have a bromance with Superman...a god like man from a completely different planet, but I can't have feelings for a half human woman with demonic powers?!"
"That's not the same thing," Bruce counters, "At his core, Superman is a good person. He doesn't do harm nor wishes ill on anyone. We should be counting our lucky stars that he's as benevolent as he is."
"And you don't think Rachel is a good person at her core?" accuses Richard. "Superman can afford to be nice since he has so many wonderful things going for him. Benevolence is easy when times are good."
"Even when times weren't good to him, he still didn't abuse the power that he has," Bruce calmly states which just further annoys Richard. "What I'm saying is that this girl is young and easily swayed by her emotions. Her father is a demon and whether you want to admit it or not, half of her is demonic. Spawned from an evil entity that is determined to destroy this whole planet. There's no telling when that side of her will make itself known. And then what, Nightwing? Do you really think the power of love will conquer all?"
"Did it ever occur to you that it might be the only thing that'll keep her from walking down that path?" questions Richard. "Remember that Clark Kent has Lois Lane to pull him back from the edge of madness, but who does Rachel have?"
"You so desperately want it to be you, don't you, Dick?" There is a knowing shake of Bruce's head. "You're not good for each other. There is too much darkness in the both of you."
As Richard opens his mouth to counter Batman's claim, there is a light knock on the door.
"Come in," both men say at the same time. The sliding door opens to reveal a tired looking alien princess and a concerned looking metal man.
"Sorry to disturb you," Cyborg says with a slight dip in his head. "But I wanted to check out the crime scene in person. There might be important evidence left behind. I want to take look before they start cleaning up the area."
"I'll go with him," says Starfire with a worried look marring her beautiful features.
"Are you sure you want to do that, Star?" inquires Richard. "You look very tired. It might be best for you to stay here and rest."
She shakes her head. "No. I feel restless, friend Robin. Rest I cannot do until we figure out who those people are and what they want with Raven."
Richard nods his head once. "Then I suggest you hurry. The news and spectators are crawling all over that place."
"We'll be back soon," Cy says as he walks out the door with Starfire trailing behind him. She pauses at the door before turning around and saying "Raven is still asleep. She woke up once and mumbled something about Trigon and fell back asleep. Cyborg nor I was able to decipher what she meant."
Richard nods once to let her know that he heard her before she turns around to leave.
"So," begins Batman, "this does have to do with her father."
"We don't know that for sure. What's said in a state of delirium can't always be trusted," says Richard as he turns back to face Bruce. He watches as the older man gets up from his chair. It is then that Richard realizes that they're the same height. He is no longer looking up at the man that he once admired. Instead, he can look him in the eye.
When did that happen?
Bruce lifts his heavy hand and places it on Richard's shoulder. "I'm saying this as someone who cares for you. Stay away from Raven. The darkness in you will only feed off of the darkness in her. It won't end well for either of you."
There is a firm squeeze of his shoulder before Bruce let's go. He walks toward the door of the command room, but before he leaves, he says, "I'll send you any new information that Alfred might have found on Trigon. And. I'll be awaiting your report about what happened today. Think long and hard, Nightwing. Don't leave anything out."
Batman gives him a pointed look before swooshing out of the room and leaving Richard to his thoughts. His gaze turns back to the videos playing across the multiple screens in the room. Each providing a different perspective to the same story. Who are the victims? The heroes? The villains? Aren't we all those things and more? Richard is sure that he has played the villain in someone else's story many times. Just like these hulking figures are playing the enemy in his.
You. Us.
A shiver runs down Richard's spine as he recalls the deep voice of the group's leader. The heinous smile as he pointed a gnarly finger at Richard and then at himself.
You. Us.
There's no way that Richard is anything like them. He's not power hungry enough to destroy lives for his own selfish desires. He would never willingly harm Rachel to get what he wants either. That brute clearly doesn't know what he's talking about much less what he's implying with that statement.
Neither does Bruce. All of this talk of the darkness within him feeding off of Rachel's. What utter nonsense. If he had bothered to spend some time with his beloved, then he would know that she's one of the most optimistic people when it comes to the fate of humanity. She shrouds herself in darkness and mystery because it is where she is comfortable. The monks noticed those tendencies and made sure to hammer the association home. It's only recently that she has been branching out of her shell and experimenting with new colors and modes of expression. His girl isn't as inherently dark as Starfire is inherently light. It's what they've been associated with and it just stuck.
You. Us.
Richard has to suppress another shiver as he walks into the medic bay to check on Rachel. He tells himself it's because the temperature has dropped due to the medical equipment and not because of the accusation of a mass murdering stranger.
When he walks in, he sees his love laying there. Still. The only thing giving away that she's even alive is the slow, rhythmic rising and falling of her chest. He spies the goose flesh along her arms and gently presses his fingertips to her soft flesh.
Cold.
Richard walks on silent feet to the cabinet where they keep the dressing gowns and extra blankets. He pulls one of the thicker ones off of the top shelf and shakes it out before folding it in half. With gentle care, he gingerly spreads the blanket over Rachel's cold body. Taking special care to tuck the ends in under her cold feet and around her legs. He loosely lays the rest of the blanket over her arms so that she can move them as she wishes.
He pauses to look at her sleeping face and notices that air mask is gone. She is breathing on her own and it appears as though some of her bruising is starting to fade. This is a good sign. It means that some of her powers are beginning to regenerate itself and working to heal her. Richard releases a small sigh of relief. It appears as though she is out of the danger zone...for now. There are still dangerous zealous out there who want to see her harmed.
You. Us.
Richard gently runs an uncovered finger down the side of Rachel's face, from temple to chin. Savoring the softness of her delicate skin. It felt smooth beneath his fingertip. How anyone could think that he would willingly hurt his beloved is beyond him. She didn't deserve that. She's been through too much to be tossed back to the wolves and those who want to prey on her. To use her for their own means. He used to be like that. There was time when he would look at her and think of ways to ensure her loyalty and obedience to his end goals.
You. Us.
But not anymore. Rachel is someone he deeply loves...even if it is in a twisted sort of way. She has been a steady rock for him to cling to as he weathers the storm of life and he has returned the favor several times over. At this point, there is no conceivable way for him to live without her. He wouldn't know how to begin picking up those pieces, much less putting them back together. He can't allow her to leave him for another...man, friend or foe. She is his.
You. Us.
His finger is replaced by his hand. He cups one side of her face in his larger, scarred palm and swipes the pad of his thumb over her pale cheek. Slowly. Once. Twice. And on the third time he feels her shift beneath his touch. He can see her eyes moving beneath her fluttering lids. Long, thick lashes parting to reveal bright violet eyes. The harshness of the medic bay's florescent lights only highlights the multiple faucets of her irises. Her eyes slowly blink as they try to focus on the man who is touching her.
"Dick?" she half mumbles, half whimpers.
"Shhh," he coos. His thumb trailing down to her dry lips. It swipes over her chapped mouth while he marvels at how he can still find her attractive in this disheveled state. Wild violet locks are splayed out on the stark white pillow of her hospital bed like a dark halo. "You're home now. Rest."
"Home?" she questions with sad disbelief in her voice. It makes him think back to the countless conversations they have had about her feeling as though she doesn't belong. As though she could never find a real "home" because she wasn't worthy of one. That she was destined to destroy anything good that comes her way. These were her deepest thoughts that she was only able to share with him in rooms so dark that they could barely see each other.
"Yes," is his quiet reply. "You're always home when you're with me."
"Home...with you...," she whispers again before allowing her heavy eyes to fall close and her tense body to relax into the mattress.
Richard gently releases her face and steps away from her bedside. Relieved that she appears to be getting better. She just needs rest...and nourishment. It just donned on him that she probably hasn't eaten anything since breakfast. She'll definitely need something warm and light to fill her empty stomach.
He walks out of the medic bay with a new mission in mind and makes his way to his bedroom. He has no intention of leaving the Tower for the rest of the day, so there is no real reason to continue wearing his Nightwing suit. He unhooks all of his armor pieces and places them on the appropriate stand in his closet. Then he gingerly peels off the layers of spandex and microfiber chain mail armor from his tired limbs. He stands before the shattered mirror in his briefs. He begins stretching his limbs by rolling his head in loose circles before lifting his arms into wide arches to loosen up his shoulders and upper back. Giving his skin some time to air off before putting clothes back on. The new suit does its job, but it's not very breathable. That is something he'll have to take into account when he works on the redesign.
Once Richard finishes his leg stretches, he pulls out a pair of loose fitting, gray sweatpants and a sleeveless white shirt. He scrubs his face in the bathroom sink, runs his fingers through his hair and puts his clothes on. A myriad of thoughts, feelings and plans running through his head. His mind can't seem to focus on one thing for every long, so he is going to give his body something to do that'll be beneficial for everyone. Cook dinner.
Cyborg and Starfire will be tired and hungry when they get back. Rachel will need something to eat when she wakes up. He is also starving from this action packed and emotionally draining day. He pulls out the ingredients for a quick sandwich for himself and for a simple, but hardy soup for the rest of the team.
As he works, he thinks. While he was able to get away with throwing scraps of information Batman's way, he knows that it won't hold the older detective at bay for long. It's only a matter of time before the man comes back Richard's way to sniff around for clues. He hadn't told him everything about that encounter. He tried not to reveal that he understood more than he was letting on in the conversation between him and that brute. They wanted Rachel to be their power source, like a generator, but to what ends he could not say. This could be related to her father, Trigon, or something else entirely. He couldn't tell. He also knows that Rachel holds the other missing pieces to this puzzle, but whether she'll be completely honest with him is anyone's guess. There's no way that he can make sound decisions without having all of the puzzle pieces at his disposal. She would be putting her own safety in jeopardy by withholding vital information and Richard cannot have that.
No, that will not do at all, Richard thinks as he pulls open the refrigerator door. He finds a sports drink that's full of electrolytes and sets it on the counter. Not at all.
Why are you like this, Dick?! You are more like them than you want to admit!