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chief-of-restless-hearts · 3 years

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Chapter 5: Trial

. . .

It was all wrong.

Dick’s mannerisms were off, twitchy and uncertain and completely foreign to his usual bearing--even under stress. And...his face. Unobscured by the grainy video quality, it seemed drawn...even gaunt.

Batman replayed the street cam footage, and watched as the boy, still wearing that dark mirror of Deathstroke’s costume, ran out from alongside the abandoned car lot and halted abruptly at the edge of the road. He threw his gaze back and forth down the empty street, as though looking for something. As though he had been chasing something.

Dick loitered agitatedly for a few moments longer and then turned and vanished out of the camera's view.

But there had been something about his expression...

Batman replayed the clip on his portable computer again. Heavy rain whipped at his cape and cowl, running in frigid rivers down his shoulders, but he remained utterly fixated. Crouched atop the building that Dick had emerged from in the recording, he had finished examining the roped off crime scene below, the details of it rotating through his mind as he studied the only true evidence that Dick had ever been there--aside from the bloodied shuriken which he had personally ensured would not be entered into police records.

None of the suspects, either captured or deceased, had sustained injuries compatible with what the shuriken must have inflicted. Which meant he had another suspect to hunt and interrogate. One more easily accessible than the survivors who had already been incarcerated.

Batman would need to move carefully to avoid justifying any rumored link between Robin and the boy captured on the tape. The sudden return of the Robin emblem alone was more than incriminating enough, and that made the motivation behind it all too clear. Deathstroke intended to isolate Robin from his allies, to destroy his reputation and relationships beyond repair and entrap him completely.

Batman would see him disappointed. His hatred for the assassin grew more intense with every hour, every day that passed.

Five days. Five days Dick had been missing, with Deathstroke, and now he looked like this.

Bruce lightly traced the image with his finger.

What did he do to you, Dick?

. . .

The lone survivor on the lower floor had clearly and gruesomely been singled out for the sake of interrogation or vendetta, and between emergency surgeries and the time necessary for recovery, the suspect was slated to remain unconscious and sedated for at least the next day.

Batman glared down at the haggard-looking man in the hospital bed, lingering in spite of this. It was maddening, knowing that testimony that could incriminate Deathstroke and exonerate his boy accomplice of bloodshed was just out of reach.

He was wasting time.

While the looped cameras would be automatically restored to their normal state once he was clear of the building, a nurse could stop by at any moment. He turned to leave.

No sooner did he face the window than he saw the familiar brightly costumed figure hovering just outside it.

He gritted his teeth and slipped outside. He ignored Superman’s attempts to meet his gaze as he closed and locked the window behind him and he grappled up to the roof, and then he turned to face the man with a scowl.

“So the video has leaked already,” he said flatly, without any question attached to it.

“I’m afraid so,” Superman confirmed, his expression pensive as his feet settled gently on the roof. “It was leaked to the Planet a few minutes ago. I’m not sure how many other papers and stations received it, but I’m not too optimistic.” He hesitated. “I came as soon as I heard. I’ve already done a quick scan of this part of the city, that’s how I found you, but...is there any other way I could help?”

Batman squeezed his eyes shut and resisted the temptation to reject the offer completely. He couldn’t afford to. Not this time. Especially not after...the other time he had tried to save one of his charges alone.

“I already know what you want to do,” he said at last, with effort. “Do it. Call the League.”

Superman was silent, but Batman didn’t turn to look at him.

This wasn’t Clark’s fault, of course it wasn’t. But it was his, and how could he look Clark in the eye when he knew that with so much certainty?

“Bruce...can you tell me that he’s alright?”

“No, I can’t,” he snapped. “Deathstroke has had Robin for nearly a week. I have every reason to believe that he is not alright.”

Superman’s brow creased with confusion. “Deathstroke...?” he started, but then he shook his head. “Bruce, I...I know this can’t be easy for you--”

“This isn’t about me,” he bit out.

Superman’s expression was pinched with open empathy, the same expression he’d had after he heard that...that Jason...

Batman was tempted to slap it off his face.

“I know,” Superman assured him. “I’ll summon as many League members as I can, but before I do, I wanted to make sure that--” He broke off, and his expression said the words left unspoken. “I wanted to see you.”

Batman closed his eyes again, and sighed. “I was about to call you,” he admitted, reluctantly. “Thank you. For coming.” He knew without looking that a small smile had entered the alien’s face.

“Nothing to thank me for,” Superman said easily. “This is for Dick. I mean, aren’t I the kid’s honorary uncle or something?”

Batman rolled his eyes, but the reminder was another little stab in his chest. “He was ten, Clark.”

Clark’s smile widened, and the weight in Bruce’s chest might have eased, if only slightly.

. . .

He reached the Hall of Justice inexcusably late and intensely furious with himself.

He had contacted the Titans again for aid in pinpointing the exact location where they had separated from Robin in the tunnels, as well as where they had found a bomb instead of Sarah Simm. His search of both areas had uncovered nothing, absolutely nothing, and had told him only that Deathstroke must have returned to the scene of the crime to cover his tracks.

And then he had woken suddenly in the water speeder, surrounded by frigid dampness and pitch black walls. The sewers had blocked any outside contact from Alfred or the League that could have roused him, he had still uncovered nothing that could help Dick, and after less than twenty-four hours of searching already his body had failed him.

As he exited the jet and made his way into the League building he found Wally West and Donna Troy sitting together in the lobby, both in costume. They started with surprise as he passed.

“Hey, Batman!” Wally called, but Batman’s brisk pace didn’t falter. Wally sliced across his path with lightning speed and tried to catch his eye. “Wait a sec, we just want to know--”

Bruce fixed the boy with such a glare that his eyes widened in alarm and within an instant he had retreated back to Donna’s side.

“Is Dick okay?” Donna called after him. Her voice was high with alarm. “...Batman?”

Their mentors must have seen fit to exclude them from the meeting. They certainly had the ability to do so, as the young people had yet to be granted access to the Watchtower satellite. Dick had been the only Titan to be given a code.

Without further acknowledgement of either teen he approached the zeta tube and stepped through the transporter.

When at last he swept into the Watchtower conference room with unprecedented tardiness and a fresh bout of transporter-due nausea, not only was the League seated but the new Teen Titans team as well. Wonder Woman was standing beside them, indicating that she had been speaking to them before his interruption.

In the sudden quiet all eyes turned to him, but he met only Wonder Woman’s gaze as he stalked toward the head of the table. In passing the others he counted, with a sting of resentment, that only five League members were present: Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash, Green Arrow, and Green Lantern. A smaller turnout at such short notice was to be expected, of course, but there were a few missing faces that he had expected to see.

He ignored Clark’s less than subtle attempts to catch his eye. Wonder Woman, understanding Batman’s intention, nodded but said nothing as he firmly set his palm-sized portable projector on the table.

“Of the twelve suspects found at the location of the sighting,” he began as several photographs from the police archives lit up the wall behind him, “these four HIVE members were found on the upper level, and on the lower level there were found three more in addition to five men who have been identified as members of the local mob.” he switched to a new set of images, these far more gruesome than the first, “Of those found on the lower level only one, a HIVE member, was found alive. The survivor had clearly been tortured.”

Not only for the sake of the young people at the far end of the table, who already looked nauseous, but out of the bare minimum of respect due to the victim he declined to share those final images with the table.

“All injuries on the lower floor, lethal or otherwise, were inflicted by a long blade,” he continued. “In marked contrast the four HIVE members on the upper floor sustained no injuries more serious than severe bruising. The zip-tie restraints confirm that only these attacks could be credited to Robin, and that Deathstroke was responsible for the lower level killings.

“The surviving suspects have so far refused to respond to police interrogation, and the most gravely injured suspect remains unfit for questioning. Which leaves the video footage of Robin as the only publicly accessible evidence as to the crime’s motivation or perpetrator. Because of this the authorities have not tied Deathstroke to the crime, nor do they have any reason to.”

The video flickered onto the wall and began to play as he spoke.

“The footage that captured Robin on the scene leaves no question that he has been mistreated.”

The blurry image of Dick on the screen staggered to a halt at the edge of the street, and Batman paused the video. He zoomed in on the boy’s face, and found that he needed to swallow before speaking again.

“Robin has lost weight, his movement is stiff, almost clumsy, and if he were thinking clearly he would never have unwittingly placed himself within sight of a street camera. This footage was taken five days after the last footage we have of him, from the day he disappeared, and...”

He broke off as something like a fist closed around his throat. He cleared it with some difficulty.

“...and we cannot afford to leave him in Deathstroke’s hands any longer than we already have.”

For the first time he looked across the table. The video must have been played prior his arrival to give any who hadn’t seen it an understanding of the crisis, and while the Titans were gazing at the projection with evident grief, the League members at the other end of the table seemed...uncomfortable. Only Clark and Diana returned his gaze, while Barry looked distant, Ollie toyed with the straps on his suit, and Hal’s gaze was firmly averted. The Lantern’s leg was bouncing idly.

“And we will not,” Wonder Woman said firmly but gently. “We must hope that Robin’s friends can help us further understand the circumstances.”

Batman could only nod and seat himself.

Wonder Woman turned again to Cyborg beside her at the end of the table. “If you would continue for us, Victor?”

Cyborg’s gaze lingered uneasily on Batman before he spoke up. “The whole ‘Red X’ thing was just Robin’s way of getting to that assassin.” He shrugged. “Maybe it would’ve worked out better if he had trusted us with the truth, and maybe it wouldn’t have...but he was only thinking of us--how to best protect the team.”

Wonder Woman nodded. "Of course," she said kindly. “Thank you, Victor. Now, Garfield,” she said, trying to catch Beast Boy's eye, “could you add to Victor's perspective of that night?”

Beast Boy’s chin didn’t move from where it rested on his arms crossed over the table. “Red X knocked me in front of a train while we were fighting,” the boy said frankly, but as League members exchanged glances he rolled his eyes and finished. “And then he pulled me out of the way. That didn’t make much sense ‘til we found out he was Robin.”

The questions continued, alternating between Titans as they covered events that had already been recounted to him. Still, Batman kept his eyes fixed on the Titans at the other end of the table, pointedly ignoring Clark, who was seated a few chairs to his left and still trying to catch his eye.

At last the tale reached the fateful night that Robin had resurfaced in Deathstroke’s colors.

“It doesn’t feel right, but Raven says that he wasn’t brainwashed,” Beast Boy mumbled, half into his arms. “and that’s kind of her thing, so she probably knows what she’s talking about. But...after Red X, that would make it twice this month that he’s kicked me around without that excuse.”

Wonder Woman’s lips pressed together tightly, and she paused before thanking the boy and turning to Raven. “Raven, can you confirm with absolute certainty that Robin’s mind was not interfered with in any way when you last saw him?”

Only the shift in Raven’s eyes indicated that the cloaked girl had heard her. With rigid posture, she sat with her hands folded in her lap and her hood drawn over her head.

“I wouldn’t say that it had not been interfered with in any way,” she said slowly, “but not in the way that you’re asking. I could feel his...frustration, as he fought us, but if he hadn’t been in control of his body his emotions would have been clouded.”

“Thank you, Raven. Now, Koriand’r?” The Tamaranean girl’s head of thick, knee-length curls turned sharply at her name. “Could you tell us what happened that night?”

For an instant the girl’s eyes grew round, almost alarmed, before her gaze returned to her lap. After a moment she began describing Robin’s erratic behaviour that morning--all due to his anger at Deathstroke--and how he had vanished during the subsequent search for Sarah Simm. By the time she reached the fight on the roof, her words came more slowly, reluctantly. At last, her words trailed to a stop.

Wonder Woman leaned closer, trying to meet her eyes. “The footage we have of the incident shows that both you and Robin disappeared from view for a short period of time. Could you tell us what happened?”

Batman noticed when Green Lantern looked significantly at Green Arrow, who was frowning.

Batman suddenly shared far more of the girl’s trepidation than he cared to.

So slowly and painfully that he could visualize her fists clenched at her sides, Starfire began to recall the incident that she had already told him.

“I...I had pursued Robin to the top of the sign, and then we--”

Raven suddenly gripped her shoulder. Starfire halted mid-sentence to look over her shoulder in surprise. What Batman could see of Raven’s face under her cowl was tight and wary, fixed on the other end of the table.

“Koriand’r,” she said in a low voice, dark and cold as a winter night. “They’ve already decided on his guilt. They aren’t thinking of how to help Robin, they’re thinking of how to stop him.”

Batman followed Raven’s gaze to the league members to his left, most of whom seemed taken aback. He studied their faces with a barely concealed scowl. Robin had always thought highly of Raven’s competence as an empath, as well as of her friendship, but in this circumstance Batman sincerely hoped that she was mistaken.

Green Arrow leaned forward and jabbed a finger in her direction. “Look kiddo, if you’re so good at reading minds, why don’t you tell us what was going on in Robin’s head? That’s all we want to know.”

Clark shot Green Arrow a stern look from across the table that was enough to make the man press his lips together and lean back in his chair.

Starfire rose above the table with clenched fists and fire in her emerald eyes. “You deceived us!” she snarled. “We came here only because we knew that Robin trusts you!”

“You said it,” Beast Boy muttered, narrowing his eyes at the League.

Cyborg gestured toward Batman with a scowl. “At least we expected better from Batman, here. You’re his father or somethin’, aren’t you?”

Batman scrutinized the unusual tension darkening Lantern’s features, Arrow’s irritated grimace, and the way Flash was awkwardly rubbing his jaw. Clark was the only one to return his gaze, but that pinched expression of concern only served to aggravate him.

Batman recalled seeing Donna and Wally waiting restlessly back in the hall of justice, and began to wonder exactly why they had been excluded.

Wonder Woman withdrew her own disapproving look at Green Arrow to face the Titans. “Children, I assure you that we ask these questions with the purest of intentions toward Robin and his safety. Koriand’r, dear...what happened next on the rooftop? If we are to help Robin, we must know.”

Starfire descended until her feet again touched the ground in a defiant stance, but she did not sit.

“He escaped us,” she answered shortly, leveling a scathing look on Diana.

Wonder Woman spread her hands entreatingly, meeting the girl’s openly defiant gaze. “Your records state that that night you were the only member of your team to sustain injury. We must know what happened.”

Starfire blinked in surprise, Cyborg’s jaw dropped, and all four Titans turned to Batman with betrayed expressions. At the moment, for different but similar reasons, Batman felt the same.

“I supplied them only with the relevant documents,” he said through gritted teeth, his granite-hard gaze fixed on Wonder Woman, who returned it with a pinched brow. “Or those that I perceived to be relevant at the time. You’re taking a while to get to the point, Wonder Woman.”

Wonder Woman gave him an earnest look that pleaded to be understood before turning back to the Titans. “I assure you, all of you, that this is necessary.”

Cyborg scowled deeply and crossed his arms over his chest. “You aren’t gettin’ anything out of us until you explain why it’s necessary. Robin may be our leader, but he’s also our friend, and we have a right to know what’s going on here.”

Diana closed her eyes for a long moment. “I...believe the League should review a few things before we continue this discussion. We will contact you when we're ready to resume.” Reaching down to her waist, she raised the lasso of truth in her hand. “I swear to you that we shall do everything in our power to help Robin. And children, though we may have led you to think otherwise, please believe me when I say that we do all share in your sorrow.”

They hesitated for a few moments, but the young people rose from their seats to follow Diana’s guiding arm toward the hall.

Green Arrow leaned toward Green Lantern, and the sensitive audio enhancers in Batman’s cowl picked up the words spoken under his breath.

“Diana did pretty well, considering,” he said wryly. “I’m sure glad I didn’t get saddled with that job. Never been much good with kids.”

Green Lantern was staring down at the table as though he hadn’t heard him, and Clark was wearily rubbing his face with his hands.

“But your ward is a teenager,” Flash protested in an equally subdued tone, sounding confused.

“Exactly,” Green Arrow sighed.

The other vigilante’s all too familiar facetious tone snapped the last fragile tendril of patience Batman had managed to retain.

“Every last one of the Titans’ questions and concerns were valid,” he snapped, “especially considering how this team appears to be blatantly disregarding the amount of time that has already been wasted. Or has the purpose behind this gathering been forgotten already?”

His voice carried, and the young heroes paused on their way to the door. Green Arrow’s gaze snapped irritably toward his for a split instant before a flicker of remorse replaced the irritation. He dropped his gaze.

“We haven’t forgotten anything,” he muttered.

“Sorry about that, Batman,” Flash said ruefully, as though he had been included in the accusation. “And...I want to say how sorry I am for what happened. I mean, if it had been Wally...”

Flash’s tone, rather than his words, grated strangely in his ears. “Sorry for what?” he demanded.

Flash seemed taken aback. “Well, you know...” he faltered. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you after...”

Flash faltered again, possibly because of the overly sharp question, and also possibly, Batman considered as he picked up on sharp motion out of the corner of his eye, because Clark was staring at him, slashing his hand urgently across his throat.

“--After what happened to the other one,” another voice finished, so dry and uncharacteristically cold for Green Lantern as to be rendered nearly unrecognizable. “After that, someone should have known better than to leave a kid loose on the streets.”

“Lantern!” Wonder Woman barked, but she went unheeded. Green Lantern glowered at Batman over crossed arms.

Batman’s fingers tightened around his arm rests, but his face was an impassive mask, the muscles of it frozen of their own volition.

Seated to the Lantern’s right, Green Arrow’s gaze flickered between them. He shifted in his seat uneasily. “C’mon, Hal...” he muttered, “we don’t need to...”

“I’m sorry for lumping you in like this, Ollie, but even with Roy the situation was different. Star City is not and never will be what Gotham is. Batman chose to raise two kids on that twisted city’s streets, and nothing comes out of Gotham uncontaminated.” He turned a significant look on Batman. “Not even the good guys.”

Batman rose slowly, stiffly. “What are you implying?”

Green Lantern rose in turn, leaning over the table toward him. “I’m implying that Robin was in the perfect position for an opportunistic creep like Deathstroke to get into his head--thanks to you.”

Wonder Woman’s fist slammed down on the table with a roar. “Lantern, that is ENOUGH!”

The entire table surface shuddered, a hair of pressure away from snapping in two.

“Bruce.” He heard Clark’s whisper from just beside him. There was warning in it. Clark didn’t trust him not to start something.

And he shouldn’t.

Neither he nor Lantern made any move to sit.

Flash turned his head suddenly, and zipped to the other side of the room to quietly send off the Titans, who had been standing forgotten in the doorway with stunned expressions on each of their faces. Solemn silence filled the moments until the children were gone, and then Wonder Woman spoke again, this time with quiet anger in her voice.

“Any discussion of guilt or innocence can wait until we have found Robin. As Batman has already established, we are losing valuable time.”

“Yes, we are,” Lantern agreed sourly, dropping back into his seat. “The press will be all over this. It’s exactly what our critics have been waiting for--evidence that we’re just as dangerous and unpredictable as the criminals we take down. And the more convinced the public becomes that Robin’s turned coat, the more difficult it will be to salvage their trust in us.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that just yet,” Clark interjected calmly, “but if it comes to that, I can help us prepare a press statement.”

“The truth should be more than enough to satisfy the public,” Batman said flatly. All faces turned to him, their expressions difficult to read. He ignored them. “The video evidence removes any question from the situation. Tell them that we are dealing with a hostage situation--that henceforth Robin’s every action should be presumed to be done under some form of coercion, and that all possible effort must be made to track Deathstroke down and recover Robin uninjured.”

There was a moment of silence.

“We can’t prove those assumptions, Batman,” Flash said quietly.

We can’t lie to them, Batman heard, though it remained unspoken.

Clark raised his hand before he could snap out a retort. “Wait Barry, the video may not be the tangible proof we need, but I know Robin pretty well, and his body language in that video was definitely concerning.”

Green Arrow interjected again. “C’mon, Supes, you’ve got to admit that won’t convince anyone. If Robin was ever in a hostage situation wouldn’t he have made some attempt to leave us a message? That’s basic training, right? And that videotape doesn’t count. Even Bats admits that Robin didn’t realize he was being filmed.”

“And that isn’t all that we need to discuss, either,” interjected Green Lantern. “We can’t forget that Robin knew all of our identities and had a very high level of clearance in the Watchtower. So long as Robin is with Deathstroke our most carefully guarded secrets are at risk.”

“Gentlemen,” Wonder Woman said sternly. “Until the facts lead us to certain knowledge, please keep your theories to yourselves.”

“But we do know something for certain,” Batman snapped. “We know Robin. Every single one of you has known him for years. And you know what he is and is not capable of.”

“Uh, Bats...” Flash began hesitantly, and Batman wheeled a stony glare at him. “I can’t stand behind everything Hal is saying, but...if we’re wondering why Robin would do something like this, I mean, you do realize what this looks like.”

“What does it look like?”

Flash visibly balked at the acid in his tone, and shrugged miserably. “C’mon, man...don't make me say it...”

“Say what?” Batman growled.

Flash swallowed, shrugged again, and started fiddling with one of his gloves. “It’s just that...I mean, we were all kind of under the impression that, uh...you and Robin didn’t part on the best of terms?”

Ice, hard and painfully sharp, formed in the center of his chest. Cutting into his lungs until all he could take in and release were barely controlled hisses of breath.

He stood, slowly, using the utmost of his self control to contain the rage when his hands were nearly shaking with it. “I am...truly disappointed to discover that this team is willing to use an innocent boy as a buffer between the world and its reputation.”

For a moment, before he turned away, he almost thought that he saw him, perched on the table in front of him with his long, gangly legs swinging over the edge, a familiar image from all those years that Bruce had relented to let him sit in while a league meeting droned on.

The image faded.

He turned away, but paused to wheel a piercing glare at his seated teammates. “When you speak to the presses I suggest that you try to explain how it is possible that a fifteen year old boy has more integrity in him than does this entire facade of a Justice League.”

+ - + - + - +

Bruce swept out of the conference room without another word or glance.

The entire room was dumbstruck, and it took a few moments for Clark to gather himself enough to go after him.

Within an instant he had breezed into the hall, and he caught up to Bruce a few steps past the door. Bruce’s expressionless white lenses looked right through him, and then Bruce stepped around him as though he were an inanimate object obstructing his path.

Clark wished that hadn’t hurt.

He moved just quickly enough to keep up with Bruce’s long, snapping pace. “Bruce,” he began, trying not to sound desperate, “please, you can’t just walk out now. I know this went badly, and I’m sorry, but you can’t--”

“You were very quiet tonight,” Bruce interrupted icily.

Clark stared for a moment, guilt holding his tongue. “Diana was...”

“You knew him better than all the others put together,” Bruce cut in again, and only then did he look Clark in the eyes. Clark felt himself wilt a little under the accusation in them. “Don’t tell me that you’ve lost faith in him too.”

“No, Bruce, I would never--I do believe in him, Bruce. He’s an amazing kid, I’d give anything for him and you know that. I’m just trying to tell you that we need to communicate. All of us. That’s what a team does. I know they handled it badly and jumped to conclusions, but you can’t just give up on them like this. This is your team and--”

“No, Clark, it’s your team.” That retort almost came out in a rasp, and Bruce had already looked away again. “Call me once they come to their senses and decide to stop scapegoating the victim of this situation.”

“That isn’t--Bruce--”

Bruce vanished into the teleporter without a backward glance.

Clark closed his eyes, counted slowly to ten and then back down to zero, and then released his breath as slowly and calmly as he could.

He turned on his heel and stalked back to the conference room at a human speed to allow himself to work off the edge of his temper.

But he could hear his teammates’ chattering as clearly as if he were in the room with him, and the subject set his teeth on edge.

“But then...why wasn’t Robin in Gotham?” Barry asked helplessly.

“Barry, please...” Diana sounded exhausted.

Hal’s voice broke in, and as Clark approached the sliding doors, he again began counting to ten. “We can’t just drop these questions, Diana. In that video Robin was even wearing that ‘R’ of his. If that doesn’t tell us something I don’t know what would. And as for Robin’s health...I mean, it’s not that I think Deathstroke’s a fun guy to live with, but what reason do we have to believe that Robin wasn’t there voluntarily?”

“Maybe you don’t need a reason,” Clark said, stalking through the conference room doors. “Maybe all you need is a little faith in a longtime friend, and just the barest smidge of respect for a man grieving the loss of his only surviving son.”

Hal turned to look at him, openmouthed, but Clark’s gaze shifted from him to each of the other leaguers in turn.

Ollie shook his head with a quiet sigh. “I’m glad Roy wasn’t here to see this,” he muttered, a little bitterly. “He’s been worried sick.”

“Wally, too,” Barry added miserably.

Diana stood still and somber, absorbed in her own thoughts, and the silence stretched on as they all did the same.

Barry broke it. “Hal, I can’t believe you threw Robin’s death in his face like that. He wasn’t just any sidekick, he was...was that one adopted? I...don’t think I ever asked.”

“All the more reason for him to know better.”

“This is beyond being wrong or right, Lantern,” Diana said sternly. “You prioritized your feelings over team unity.”

“Alright, alright,” Hal sighed, “I get it. I came on too strong, like always, right? But it’s not like I blame the kid--if I’d been in his shoes I’d probably have lost it years ago. And besides, Bats had it coming.”

Clark approached the table only to grip the back of his chair almost tightly enough to break it. “Well I hope getting that off your chest was worth it,” he said fiercely, “because we just lost the one League member who had a decent chance of finding Robin if he doesn’t want to be found. And we were gathered here to help his son.”

“Yes we were,” said Diana, her eyes still weary, but her hands planted squarely on the table. “And we still are. But I must agree with one of the points that Lantern presented. In time we will need to address the public’s suspicions.”

Clark closed his eyes, his heart sinking, because he knew exactly what Diana was about to say. Worse, he wasn’t sure he could contradict it.

“If we deny the increasingly obvious truth that Deathstroke’s young accomplice is Robin, we lose their trust. If we admit to his identity but do not pursue him as we would a criminal our impartiality will be called into question. We can afford to delay this, but not inevitably.” She let out a long, carefully controlled breath. “We have only one choice, and Hera help me, I wish there was another way.”

+ - + - + - +

He emerged from the teleport back into the Hall of Justice, and this time saw Donna and Wally with the Titans gathered around them in a conference of their own. The group had already turned to watch him, and six pairs of eyes fixed on him as he redirected his steps to approach them.

If the League couldn’t comprehend the inherent absurdity of the suspicion that Dick--that Robin would ever willingly join an assassin, then he was left no choice but to seek out allies who could.

Both the former and present members of the Titans readily and eagerly agreed to help. The small entourage made its way through the sewers toward the former location of the bomb as well as the point of Robin’s departure, and under his direction they set about combing the tunnels inch by inch.

The search, though now performed with the very best of Cyborg’s tech as well as his own, uncovered nothing. Searching the tunnels from the point of Robin’s departure proved even less fruitful, even with Beast Boy’s attempts at catching his scent that proved useless among the pungent sewage and Raven’s futile attempts to feel Robin's presence.

To bypass the sewer water issue Batman had earlier asked Wonder Girl to call Aqualad to help their search. The girl had winced, probably at the prospect of assigning her friend such an unpleasant task, but she readily agreed.

Along with Aqualad, Roy Harper--Speedy--arrived some hours into the search, stared up at Batman in his red and yellow archer’s costume and demanded, rather than offered, to help with the investigation.

Batman shot a frustrated look at Wonder Girl, who was clearly biting back a grin. She raised her hands defensively. “I promise I didn’t call him!”

“Yeah, about that,” Speedy cut in. “How come I had to hear about this get-together from Wally, huh? Since when did I become the team member to get snubbed for invitations?”

Batman bit back a sigh. “Green Arrow--”

“Hey, Ollie doesn’t get a say in Titans business, okay? He--hey, Wonderdoll wait up!” He broke off running after Wonder Girl down the tunnel.

The dark tunnels devoured precious hours, again cutting him off from outside communication, but there was still so much ground to cover. He had been all too happy to evade any attempted contact from the League, but guilt over leaving Alfred completely in the dark about his activities since leaving the cave that morning finally drove him to return briefly to the surface.

He crawled out of the manhole and slipped into a nearby alley before activating his comm. “Alfred. I--”

“Oh, thank God, Sir. I have been trying to contact you for the past hour, and--your witnesses from the HIVE...they’ve been murdered.”

. . .

The five kills had been executed swiftly. Neatly. But despite what the circumstances could have led him to believe, poison had never been part of Deathstroke’s repertoire.

The last surviving witness, the torture victim, had evidently been saved for last. He was still breathing when Batman again broke into his hospital room with disconcerting ease despite the increased security. The man was still unconscious, but twitching slightly, with thick, beading sweat dripping from his forehead into his hair.

Batman pressed a gloved hand over the man’s mouth. He jerked awake. Two wide, bloodshot eyes locked on him and the man writhed and fought uselessly to scream through the hand.

“Less than two hours ago your allies were assassinated by the HIVE,” Batman said, his voice low, but too guttural to be a whisper. The man’s pathetic struggles only worsened. “Answer a few questions and I will ensure that you don’t--”

The man’s eyes rolled back in his head. The writhing evolved into convulsions, and Batman became suddenly aware that the man’s skin under his gloves was unnaturally hot. Suddenly that made horrifying sense.

He whipped out a batarang and sliced through the catheter connecting the bag of fluids to the man’s arm. How long had it been feeding the poison into his system? The machine beside the bed was already beeping an automatic alarm.

Help would come too late.

“Did you see Robin?” he demanded, releasing the man to moan freely. “The boy with Deathstroke!”

The man’s rolling eyes briefly flickered over his, confused and probably delirious. “...R...Renegade?” he gasped.

. . .

Until the cave analysis of the poison sample was complete, all he had was a suspicion. One that he could confirm through another, more readily available means.

He hacked into hospital security footage to search through the hours prior to his own entrance, and there at last he found the assassin: a dark haired nurse, glancing both ways as she entered the room.

She pulled a long syringe out of her pocket, and as she injected it into the bag of fluids, Batman could just make out her nails--long, sharp, and painted green. With the job finished so easily, she turned to leave the room. The lower half of her face was covered by a hospital mask, but her cat-like eyes flickered up toward the camera, and he recognized the assassin's distinctive matching emerald: Cheshire.

Batman had vanished by the time the medics poured into the room, but carefully out of sight, he had watched.

The man had died within minutes.

And still, Batman had a new, wrong name that chanted through his mind until it lost meaning in the din.

#it's been a long month but #new chapter!#teen titans #the apprentice #bruce wayne #dick grayson #slade wilson #clark kent #batman #batfam #too many characters to tag #diana prince #koriand'r #victor stone #raven #gar logan #my writing #bad company #bad company ch 5

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inappropriatefangirlneeds · 5 years

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Gotham s5ep1 “Year Zero” Personal Review

““It will come” “A thousand rounds of freshly minted nine millimeter stock” Warning spoilers below

Hello there Gotham. The scenery with Edward arming himself and the disturbed vinyl sound makes me remember everything why I love this show. Oh, Oswald all dolled up and with a knife, I love it even more!

“It's two minutes past pumpkin time, sweetheart.” I was worried about BARBARA KEAN. The last season ended as if they would make her some horrible “someone got what feminism is about really wrong” character but there she is protecting women, looking stunning and being god damn reasonable! She´s doing good! She´s doing it on her own terms. Granted the men buying time thing seems a tad bit silly but could be quite entertaining, also pragmatism rules! “Honey, no one is asking you to forget what happened, but how do we protect the women who come in here every day looking for safety? We need this.” It was heart breaking and inspiring to hear her tell Tabitha “I need you too” This is how it should be, this is how you should do it. Also this just erased all my memory to all the wonky Barba and Ra´s al Ghul stuff. Please just don´t let her be all cray cray mad from now on. I really root for Oswalds ““Can we move past this? Say the whole Tabitha-Butch chapter is over?” approach. I could have done without all the BUTCH & TABITHA GALAVAN stuff. It just made barely any sense for Tabitha. It lessened the unexpected joy over finding out Tabs actually cared about Barbara. And while I always found it odd that OSWALD COBBLEPOT would neglect his revenge it feels stale at that point. And for me it gets even more cheapened if they have it circle on with Barbara trying to off Oswald. Things should come to an end or it makes something grave look like some soap opera relationship drama know. [Also why am I so suspicious about Tabs “don´t” line maybe being not only pure love and reason but a hint that she will somehow be back. Like oddly I don´t feel they would bring her back, but .. still suspicious!] “Gee. For a second there, I was worried.” Gee that was a good line. But I´m not really feeling it that SELINA KYLE would put the blame on Bruce like that. I get the pain, I get where she is and I get that there has to be some strain in between them because of this but I also feel like Selina would know, recognize and acknowledge that it is just Jeremiah who is to blame and no one else. Her saying something like that in that moment and state that she is in, perfectly reasonable but I so hope they won´t go further down that route once she´s healed (just have to assume that’s gonna happen) Sure it also seems to go hand in hand with her NO1. rule, that she just should have stuck to it and her going astray lead to her state and that Bruce is ultimately to blame which would send her on an even more solitary path than the one she has been on before, full of resentment for others BUT she´s always broken that rule, she´s always taken risk for others and not always has some profit from it, still she must have recognized to worth of that, I hope the writers won´t ignore that, like just to drive Bruce and Selina apart or something. The two of them had plenty of conflict, there is some things that Bruce actually did that Selina blames and resent him for, they do not need this as source of conflict. Also they already had her in a hospital and hopeless situation. Enough! But damn, those first few scenes. Camren Bicondova is such an amazing actress. This just broke my heart before I even got to know what situation she is in. Also damnit, I didn´t need the feelz of this plot line, I really didn´t please just let Selina be ok again soon! ALFRED PENNYWORTH seems to be out of his depth with everything, but hell who wouldn´t be. It seems they´ll keep pushing Bruce to be the one to call the tune, especially since Jim signing him in. That surgeon should just kiss Alfred, they should just let off some steam, clear the head, get rid of some tension and have Alfred build up something of his usual shine. Like I know it´s important for Bruce that someone watches Selina while he tries to fight for the medicine in the basement, and it´s great that he trusts Alfred with this but idk I feel like there´s still plenty of punches for him to throw in the right faces. “It's made him unassailable.” Can we talk about the shade in that line: “I mean, we have Penguin in City Hall, for God's sakes. He raided the armory and stockpiled weapons, then repurposed a factory to manufacture ammunition.” Jim´s voice was awesome when he delivered that. Like can you believe it, off all malady, we got penguin in the city hall, what a disgrace, I can´t believe it. But I´m glad OSWALD COBBLEPOT was clever to get things going well for him! Love that. He looks great too. But why the hell did he dress everyone around him so bland and boring??!!! Where is the previous style. Bring it back! Why is everyone looking so unhappy. >>> Oh no .. was this fashion foreshadowing. Apparently, Oswald dines well while letting everyone else starves. I feel Mr. Penn´s accusatory, disappointed and annoyed gaze. Also what is with all that politician like rhetoric? It´s bland, it´s boring. And it´s at odd times. Oswald has always been great with talk but now there´s something else happening and I don´t like it. I mean it´s great that he´s back on track with the self preservation thing , it suits him and it´s nice but he´s shown great concern for the people of Gotham and now he wouldn´t care at all that people starve in his workshop?! #notmypenguin I don´t buy it, and just because SELINA KYLE alone didn’t devastate me and I´m in that kind of mood I´m gonna read it into Oswald as well. After all I do think it makes more sense if I see Oswald being not quite in a dissimilar place than Selina is, or rather he is where I do think Selina could be if they give her back her agility (and hopefully a will to live) and just let her off without mental health treatment. Resentful, only being able to acknowledge the bad that has been done to them, desperately trying to keep themselves safe and especially keep themselves safe from others. I think it´s even telling that Selina can´t walk and they show Oswald getting a device for his leg just to be shot in it later. Oswald seems genuinely relieved and happy, the “feels good” carries joy. The device probably lessened the pain he has been in and moreover it grants him more mobility and agility, which in the current environment is more important than ever. However that cheery mood just lasts a tiny moment, it´s promptly followed by: put a knife on it . It´s pure survival. There´s some happy laughter about the new improvement but promptly Mr. Penn enters with more bad news and even worse something that basically challenges him and his leadership. Oswald just has to dismiss it. I feel like him talking so carelessly about the workers is not actually the lack of care but him being in a state where he just can´t acknowledge it. Something that he previously might have seen as something that needs to be tackled and resolved is now just a threat > Dismiss it! Same with the food. It´s not perfect, it´s not up to standard, it´s not what it should be > Overcooked, just get rid of it altogether. Not acceptable. Previous Oswald would have acknowledged a problem but would also have seen the other side and tried to utilize both but now he just can´t. Moreover his appearance is more on point than ever, meticulous even, and we get a scene with a makeup brush which certainly highlights this. > Everything has to be perfect, in place and under his control, he can´t tolerate anything else. He just can´t provide a target, and even if it´s smeared eyeliner. I think he´s strained, he´s scared, he´s terrified, he´s hurt. And it took a toll on him. It also explains the constant politician lingo, he just sees everything as a threat and he has to fire and try to disarm with the politician protocol. He can´t get to the core of a situation anymore it´s just politics of survival. Maybe even more in his head than it actually is. [Okay to be fair maybe I´m not taking into account the full situation, after all it is more than reasonable to fear for his life in his situation, even Tabitha aside, but it´s not like he hasn´t navigated through that before] [Also, I might just read nonsense into this because I´m sad and because I just don´t want Oswald to be a cookie cutter meaaaniie]

* Also how is everyone else just so great at acting. I´m shook. I thought, as usual with the time jump I´m just gonna be annoyed and really wondering how everyone got to the place where they are and why they suddenly liked someone or disliked them (*cough* Oswald n Babs what happened) but I´m just super emotional about how they all talk to each other. The scene with JIM GORDON & HARVEY BULLOCK & LUCIUS FOX discussing their situation was just so brilliant. (“And the truth?” “We're on our own.” “The truth is we have no idea what might happen. And our job is to keep ourselves and everyone else alive.” > so sell them hope) Respectful, open, aware of the situation, direct no sugar coating but mutual understanding. Same with the JIM & BRUCE SCENES. Feels like they really want to build them up to “Equals” pretty quickly. Even the scene with JIM & SCARECROW was brilliant. “I know what you're thinking, Captain. I have so few bullets. Do I spend one on him? Is it worth it? “I already know it's not.” But damnit the boy is worth everything. Although I find it really hard to see scarecrow as Jonathan Crane or see any connection between those, I guess it´s more convenient to just let that go and enjoy Scarecrow like he is. It´s great to have so many references of characters knowing what shit all the others are in as well. Tabitha/Barbara quickly call that Oswald is short on supply. It gives me an odd “we´re all in this together” vibe despite all of them still fighting each other. But as it seems they´re indeed going to team up. Another example of this was: “Sorry. Mouths to feed. And you know all about that, don't you?” I chuckled when OSWALD COBBLEPOT pulled that one on JIM GORDON. Despite having more guns, Oswald still went for the verbal manipulation, try to make Jim see him as basically doing the same just on another side, with other methods. Also can we talk about they paralleled them as well with the matter of TRUTH! “Truth is, I was never gonna make that deal. I need all those supplies.” “But if it was me, wouldn't I just admit it? I mean, it's not like I'm going to be arrested.” Oswald really didn´t have a reason to say that he didn´t shot the chopper down except for it being the truth. Jim really didn´t need to tell Oswald that his deal was just a ruse and never genuine, except for it being the truth. No matter the situation, no matter the circumstances those two do share some values! Apart from GOBBLEPOT subtext still going strong we´ve reached another HARVEY BULLOCK & JIM GORDON milestone. It´s their beginning 2.0. No matter what they´ve been trough, no matter how their relationship changed they are basically back to Season 1. In season one Jim held up his badge and announced everything has to be done the right way. Then Harvey Bullock scolded the boy scout and lectured him on Gotham´s ways. The right way doesn´t work in Gotham. Not we have Jim do the same, and Harvey sticking to his old role. “Three months ago, I would've lost my badge for that.” .. “You want rules for this game? I'll tell you. I'll make it simple, okay? You win or you die. Next time, shoot to kill.” * “Fine. Whatever.” Oh mood. * “Say it walking.” Oh Harvey, that´s a great one. * “I haven't been happy in ten years.” Oh shit what a mood again. * “Everything all right?” “No, but we're alive, so that's something.” Great line, and I kinda wish it was a mood. * Is the pilot okay? I´m worried. * “You´ve earned a place here” and then Bruce doing that tiny tiny tiiny nod … * Also Jim Gordon not regretting staying in Gotham “Hell no” holding up hope like that, although he might not even have it himself is wonderful. He really radiates the vibe that he got this as much as someone can in that situation. * Things I (and probably everyone else) just knew would happen 1. Tabitha: “He's gonna regret giving me this.” > Penn: Hey just letting you know quality suffered Oswald: Bullshit *fires shot* bullet doesn´t go the kind of boom it should > Another bullet does the same making the talk about regret echo in a mean but expected twist. 2. Gotham: A chopper will bring us the much needed supplies it´s gonna be great, it´s just gonna work once but it will work Chopper: Get shot down, what a surprise 3. Dumpster in an alley: Is there Audience: Ah Edward´s new bed *waits* Yes there he is. EDWARD NYGMA set up in a game against himself could develop really nice. And they had some great visuals in the scenes with him!

#gotham #gotham meta #oswald cobblepot #jim gordon #gotham s5ep1 Year Zero #boysout #mine Gotham full episode reviews

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ofsurviiving · 6 years

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— ✧ ADRIA ARJONA ?? no, that’s just SIENNA LOREN THOMPKINS !! she’s the TWENTY SEVEN year old daughter of ALFRED PENNYWORTH & LESLIE THOMPKINS, and a member of CAMPUS SECURITY at paragon, bartender at JOHNNY’S BAR and aspiring PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR. i hear she’s INGENIOUS & LIONHEARTED, but tends to be HEADSTRONG & DETACHED. her file says that her power is ENHANCED CONDITION. her stats page is HERE. her pinterest board is HERE.

the sun will RISE and WE will try again

SECTION ONE OF THREE: BULLET POINT HISTORY trigger warnings for talk of death throughout, funerals, miscarriage, infant death & postpartum depression

sienna loren thompkins was born in pretoria, south africa, twenty seven ( soon to be twenty eight ) years ago to dr leslie maurin thompkins, a ( at the time ) disgraced nurse, and alfred pennyworth - much beloved butler and valet to bruce wayne.

for much of her early life, sienna wasn't aware of who her father was, due to the way in which her mother's most recent fling with him had ended - when she fled from gotham to africa following stephanie brown's supposed death, which she had orchestrated. sia was raised solely by her mother in a village a few hundred miles west of the city, the two sometimes traveling abroad together when required by lee's job, but never spending too much time away ( and never spending any at all, in america ).

her earliest memories are of helping people. lee did the best that she could with what she had, working from a tiny and outdated medical practice, helping the many who came from their village and beyond - and little sia was forever at her side. spending her free time in the practice with her mom and being homeschooled for the entire first decade of her life, sia learned from the very best - and she saw her life as a sort of blessing. she didn't dwell on the things she didn't have, like money or status or a father. she, like lee, made the most of what she DID have, and she came to view her mother as a sort of hero. after all - not many people were so willing to help the misfortunate.

she was thirteen years old, when lee received word that she could finally return to gotham city. the news came from alfred, who traveled all the way to the village just to let her know - and imagine his surprise, when little sienna thompkins was who welcomed him first. lee had never told him about her. it wasn't out of spite, or anything negative - alfred's whole life had been dedicated to bruce, and his focus was one track minded, and lee had never wanted to talk away from that by telling him he had a child growing up half the world away. she didn't try to lie - she didn't say sia was someone elses, or that she wasn't even hers. she told him, that evening, and told sia too - and a week later, all three of them boarded a plane back to gotham city. lee began the process of finding herself an apartment in her hometown and a small building out of which she could operate a medical practice, to boot. sienna was entrusted to her father. it was equal parts wanting sia to have somewhere to live while things were up in the air for lee, and wanting her to finally get to know alfred pennyworth.

they had gotten along incredibly well, for the week they had known each other in africa. sienna had showed him all her photographs and accomplishments, and he had told her as much as he felt appropriate for a thirteen year old to know about his life. but speaking with one another and learning each others personalities and habits and things was entirely different to being thrown in the deep end and living with one another - and it didn't really help that the wayne family was quite as large. sienna would barely speak a word to anyone who wasn't alfred. she was as intimidated by them all simply as people, as she was scared that they would think her strange or foreign, and be far from welcoming, as he'd promised.

months went by, and sia remained ever fearful of the people she was now surrounded by - and when her mother finally opened up her new practice, she thought that meant she could return to her comfort zone and go back to living with her full time. ALAS, lee was more swamped in gotham city than she had ever been in africa. gotham was huge and troubled. nothing like she, or sia for that matter, had grown accustomed to. she worked sixteen hour days, only catching some sleep above the practice before returning once again - and she wished it could have been different, sia could tell as much from her expression when she sat her down to break the news, but she NEEDED to keep doing good. she couldn't cut her work in half. gotham needed her. sia did, too, but she had alfred now - and lee thought it would be incredibly good for her to continue living with him, and continue down the road of accepting him as her father.

now, things were different. sia had remained at a distance to those around her because in a way, she had imagined that she would someday soon get to go HOME. now, wayne manner was her home - and things weren't going to change any time soon, so she knew she had to get used to it. she opened up. she HAD to - and boy, is she both happy and sad that she did.

at fifteen, following a rollarcoaster of a few years, sienna became batgirl alongside fabian todd's robin. it was a PRETTY BIG thing - and it drove a VERY big wedge between her and her mother, though their relationship had started suffering right around the time that lee had taken sia back to gotham. alfred was difficult to get around, but sia, born and raised to take care of people, made a very convincing ( if not just downright impossible to dissuade ) argument - he accepted it because he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. lee, on the other hand, forever against bruce's inclincation to put kids on the street in masks, HATED the idea of her only daughter joining the roster. their contact ended the day sienna told her, but she didn't stop being batgirl. in fact - even now - being batgirl was the only thing that sia ever really felt that she had done RIGHT.

fabian was, at this point, the BEST friend that sia had. working alongside them to clean up gotham felt good, it felt right, and she would be lying if she said that the adrenaline rush wasn't ANOTHER huge appeal. coming from a background of doing good wherever she could, helping to do good in gotham came naturally - though she was, as a teen who was only now coming into herself confidence wise, a little reckless. they were without a doubt the HAPPIEST days of her life - and certainly the ones where she felt as if she was doing the most good.

and then, fabian died. it was sudden, and it was the first of a series of heartbreaks that sia would face. she had never LOST anyone before - at least, not someone who she cared for - and the day they died, she really did lose a small part of herself that even after their return, never came back. sia couldn't face the funeral. she couldn't carry on as batgirl, either - not without her robin. it was a sad, sad situation, and it's never fully been remedied.

sia threw herself into her studies as way of dealing with giving up the batgirl mantle, and that, as they say, was that. it's maybe the perfect time to say that gotham academy - the school alfred had enrolled her in and the school she hadn't much cared for, until then - was never anything more than a distraction for her, but still, she graduated, and she did it with a weighted 4.9 gpa. she was smart. he wasn't ever behind, despite being a vigilante for a lot of her time there and despite missing out on a great many years of formal and conventional education. she took everything that was ever thrown at her in her stride, and she managed to do it making friends along the way, too. she graduated, moved out of wayne manor, and got three jobs right off the bat in downtown gotham - selling books in a local bookstore for half the week, waitressing in a local diner every evening, and serving drinks in a hip nightclub every weekend night. she was saving her money. she was getting somewhere, on her own. and she was working on getting to HAPPY - something that had, for a time, seemed beyond her.

she was in love, too. quin was her first SERIOUS love, before she ever even knew about it. they had met at gotham academy, but it wasn't until after the relationship he had been embroiled in had come to an end that they got involved on and off, continuing that way for a while until she got pregnant. of course, she was scared - UNBELIEVABLY SO - but she wanted the baby ( it wouldn't be inaccurate to say she wanted something to dedicate her life to, again ), and she would have given it the most amazing of lives if she hadn't miscarried. that was the second of her major heartbreaks. sia was DEVASTATED, and without quin...- god, she wouldn't have survived. but they got through it, they got more serious, they put an official label on themselves, and the tragedy of their loss brought them together.

and it also brought her back to her mother. in the days following her miscarriage, before she and quin had really become each others crutch, she visited her mother and began confiding in her once again. it was difficult. it would always be. but they were back in contact, and they kept in touch - even if they both found it difficult to be in the same room as one another.

she followed quin to paragon, choosing to apply and work on a law degree. she said it was what she wanted, and in a way, it was - but being a lawyer would never match being batgirl. she was always unsatisfied. it wasn't until she'd achieved her bachelors and realized that she could go on and become a COP that sia felt like she was getting a little bit closer to the dream she had once lived.

and then, she fell pregnant again. this time, they didn't tell anyone until they were out of the danger zone. she didn't get attached until she saw the three little heartbeats on the monitor at the hospital three weeks in a row. she didn't call them anything other than beans one two and three until she was five months in. but once she'd opened her heart to them, trusted they they would survive... sia loved the babies more than she had ever loved anything, before. i said that quin was her first serious love - but they were her second, most important, and YES - finally, she had reached happy. she had her fiance. she had three strong babies on the way. she was going to take a break and then return to work on being a cop, someday, and she was going to do GOOD in the world in the kind of way that sh wished that she could again -

then the attack happened. quin died. he died saving her, and their unborn babies, and it was all for nought in the end anyway because she was INJURED, badly - at the hospital her nearest and dearest were informed that she would require an emergency c-section if the babies were to survive. lillian and quinten james lived, brought into the world hours after quin had exited it - but complications had arose, and injuries she had sustained had not only left sia in a touch and go position, but had resulted in them losing IRIS. in under a few hours she had lost the love of her life and one of their babies. these were the heartbreaks that sia didn't think she would survive.

a part of her wished that she had parted from this world, instead of living through the trauma. sienna required a massive blood transfusion following her surgeries, and alfred himself was the donor - but when she awoke, she wished he hadn't been so quick to volunteer. she survived. two of their babies survived. but she had lost quin, and lost their daughter, and she lost herself, too.

she was already a non-presence in the twins life when quin came back to life. they called it postpartum depression - she couldn't stand being too involved with them, wasn't connecting with them, on any sort of level. she had pushed everyone including her babies away, leaving them to be raised by everyone around her while her mother tried to break through the fog that had come down over her - and then quin came back.

and she was scared.

over the short time that quin had been gone, she had made some truly questionable decisions. she had hurt people who she felt had hurt him. she had abandoned their kids when they needed her most. she had been far from a stand up mother and far from a pillar of strength, consumed by her own aching sadness and need for petty revenge - and now he was back, but he was different, and he wasn't HER QUIN, and he was alive but he had still been MURDERED, and -

it was a lot. too much. she didn't know how to react to him, and she didn't feel as if she had ever been present in their lives to affect the twins if she left, and... though she was ashamed to say, she RAN.. it was far from her proudest moment.

and now she's back. slightly better adjusted, still seeking revenge for... she doesn't even know what, anymore. she's trying to realign who she was with who she's become, and distance has certainly given her perspective. the only people who matter to her ( REALLY matter ) are lillian and quinten james. they're HER WORLD. she wants to do right by them - and she intends to, too.

SECTION TWO OF THREE: FACTS

she’s been living her for fourteen years, almost, but sia STILL has a fairly strong south african accent. she was born and spent all her formative years there, so it makes sense.

sia’s good at heart. she always was. she has a good heart, and when it’s working right, a strong moral compass. she’s always wanted to save the world and the people in it ( call her lee’s daughter ), and all she’s ever done has been to meet those goals - but she has this rage within her that doesn’t lineup with who she’s always been, and that scares her - the need for revenge, even though quin’s alive again, consumes her, and sometimes she wonders if she really should have come back at all. the time she’s spent away has been spent at the sides of people who can help her be who she used to be, training, learning, watching - trying to relearn control she once had, though its hard to tell if she really has any, anymore.

sia has dropped the dream of being a cop. she doesn’t know whether that classic idea of justice that she always believed in before is what she believes in now - and while she’s pursuing the biblical sort of justice, she doesn’t think it’s ok to continue trying to be a law enforcement official. she does love the idea of private investigating, though, and feels it would allow her to be closer to who she was once as batgirl while also following her heart, now, and... who knows! it’s something she rly wants, anyway

SECTION THREE OF THREE: WANTED CONNECTIONS

FRIENDS !!! sia’s always been friendly, and i want her to have some friends that she maybe made at gotham academy, or also maybe made at paragon. i’m also open to ones she made while she was still traveling with her mom, because i feel as if she would have run into a lot of different people while she was.

EXES LMAO !! quin was her first serious love but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t had people before him, who put her on the path to actual love. good exes, bad exes… who cares i just lov an ex!!

ROOMMATE !! i don’t think that sia could realistically afford a place to live on her own, even working the two/threeish jobs she’s working - i’d lov for her to have someone she lives with, so hmu for that roommate connect zoe lawton !!

this isnt my best idea but could someone out there pls just . give her a pep talk abt being a mom. she loves her kids and would straight up die for them but there’s no way in hell she considers herself a good mother, or even the kind of mother they should have in their lives right now

#sidekick.intro #this is all .. so much #rly #mentions of death cw #funeral cw #miscarriage cw #infant death cw #postpartum depression cw #「･ﾟ ❖ ･ * she wasn't born to be soft ― sienna loren thompkins. 」

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hiraeth-doux · 6 years

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A Road Paved In Gold (12/?)

Summary: Steve Trevor didn’t die in the sky in Belgium, but his survival came with a price he couldn’t have ever imagined.

A/N: Okay, this is probably something you’ve been waiting for? I hope? :)) Thank you for your patience, guys ♡♡

AO3 | FF.net

Gotham, 2017

The storm came two night later, strong and vicious, the nature lashing out at the world with frightening determination. The wind was bending the trees around the lake house in half while the thunder rolled angrily so close to the roof that it felt like it was going to shake it right off any second.

“Do not turn left,” Steve said into a headpiece as he watched a grainy image of a security camera on the screen before him.

“There’s also a right,” Victor’s voice sounded loud and clear in his ear.

“There’s a staircase straight ahead of you,” Alfred leaned closer to the screen across the desk, his fingers tapping impatiently against it.

Steve’s stomach tightened, his mind racing. The howling of the wind outside was making the Batcave feel particularly… well, cavernous, and yet he still preferred it to the ground level of the house where the walls suddenly felt fragile under the raging gusts of wind and a heavy downpour that made him feel like they were drowning. What was Bruce thinking living in an actual glass box he had no idea.

The distress call from the S.T.A.R. Labs in Gotham came about an hour ago, and at first it seemed that it was merely a power outage issue, what with the storm practically trying to flood the entire city. Until the maintenance crew arrived to have a look only to find the building alight and half of the staff beaten up within an inch of their lives while the other half was holed up in every nook and crevice they could find while the Lab was taken over by what appeared to be a group of people who Barry described in a hushed whisper as ‘freaky’ – Steve found that detail particularly helpful.

Fast, strong, ruthless, and without a grain of humanity and consciousness to them, they were adamant to leave the place, even if it meant taking a few lives along the way.

“Test subjects,” Bruce grunted with disgust when they came across some sort of hibernation pods in the basement with life support system hooked up to them. Steve could hear him running, his footfalls soft and almost soundless for someone his size. “Someone was trying to create their own universal soldiers.” The words sounded sour in his mouth, like he bit into a lemon.

“Or meta-humans,” Victor added somberly.

Steve exchanged stunned glances with Alfred.

New meta-humans…

And suddenly everything felt a thousand times more real – the intensity, the danger, the tight voices on the other end. Like the whole world zeroed in on a handful of people trying to solve this puzzle while the time slowed down to a crawl, so precious each moment was. So life-changing each of them could be.

His mind jumped to Waller. To their conversation a couple of days ago. She wouldn’t do it—she wouldn’t have time–

How long could it take to drug and brainwash someone out of their mind? Maybe not long, but Victor said that the place looked like it had been operating for some time. Located on the lower level that wasn’t even supposed to be used, it could have remained hidden for a while, he figured. A backup plan? Her Task Force X plan had failed spectacularly, costing her not only a chunk of her ego but also the trust of the people she was meant to protect. And the League, despite her attempts, was barely under her control.

If he was honest with himself and based on what he knew about this woman, Steve wouldn’t have put keeping a whole new army on ice past her. Someone – Bruce? – had mentioned hibernation pods, and given the Labs’ access to resources and technology, he didn’t doubt that they could probably come up with a way to keep someone in a medically induced coma for as long as they needed it.

Until the storm cut off power for however short a time and woke the subjects up.

But that was a food for thought for later, and definitely something to consider when they had more time and hopefully information. Right now, they needed to get everyone out of the facility and try to round the… whatever those people were.

“They are soldiers,” Steve muttered when one of the cameras snatched an image of two men in what looked like hospital scrubs walking along the corridor, their eyes glassy, their faces nothing but stone masks that carried no trace of emotion.

“Pardon me?” Alfred turned to him.

“Soldiers,” Steve repeated, his brows pulling together. “You can see it in their postures, in the way they move.” Like they were on a prowl.

He wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad news. On the one hand, it was one less question bumping around his head. On the other, though, they were trained to survive at all costs, they tended to be excellent at hand to hand combat, and although it factored greatly into a certain degree of predictability that the League could use to their advantage, devoid of all other instincts, they could be lethal. Especially devoid of other instincts.

He’d seen it before, in the Great War. Not a medically induced condition, but more like despair that stripped men around him off their humanity. Like they weren’t going to stop at anything. They had reached their limit and had nothing to lose. Except they were not at war now.

The men paused in front of the camera and looked up, and for a second Steve got an unnerving feeling that they were staring straight him. So much so that he even drew back involuntarily. And then one of them reached for the lens and the screen went black.

“Great,” Alfred muttered.

“Victor, is your father there?” Steve asked a little too loudly, getting a muttered curse from Bruce.

“No,” Victor responded promptly. “Not this late. The only staff around are those burning the late night oil.”

A loud noise of something like a file cabinet toppling to the floor cut him off.

And then Diana’s voice barked at Barry to duck, so close that it made Steve’s pulse stutter. More commotion followed dotted with grunts and yelling, although whose it was hard to tell. Arthur’s war cry cut in, close to someone with a headpieces as he deemed being hooked to one of Bruce’s gadgets uncool. More screams. Rapid footfalls of someone running.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred said if a little tentatively, fearful of being distracting when Bruce least needed it.

Nervous energy mixed with adrenaline was throbbing in Steve’s chest, hot as lava. His hand was gripping the edge of the desk. Another peal of thunder rolled over their heads, making the whole house shake all the way down to the foundation.

“We have half of them, out of about a dozen,” Victor’s voice cut through the sounds Steve was no longer trying to interpret. “And all staff is safe in the back, but a few might need medical assistance. Those guys knew what they were doing. ”

“Don’t hurt them,” Diana’s order followed, muffled and too far away from them, and still like on cue Steve’s heart slammed hard against his ribs. “It’s not their fault. They are confused and don’t know what’s happening.”

“Just another Friday night,” Alfred muttered, rubbing his eyes, the lines around his mouth deeper somehow, his concern no longer hidden behind the ever-present façade of mild disinterest.

The problem, however, wasn’t to just stop the rogue subjects, but to do it safely, seeing as how Diana was right and they were as much the victims here as the people they had turned on, but remembering that was all the much harder when someone Steve actually cared about was fighting on the front line.

His mind was still spinning, trying to put the information together. From the pieces he’d snatched here and there, it looked like someone was attempting to create new meta-humans by pumping people – who might or might not have volunteered for it on their own free will – with steroids and a chemical cocktail meant to increase their endurance and stamina and god only knew what else. During the process of transformation they were, apparently, sedated either to reduce the pain of the process or to avoid violent outbursts, but when the storm hit the city, the lightning damaged several power lines in the area, shutting down the machines they were hooked to and cutting off the drip of the sedative. The few minutes that it took the emergency generator to kick in were all they needed to wake up, drugged up out of their minds, disoriented, and desperate to get the hell out of the place that had turned them into something that they couldn’t understand. There was nothing to them but heightened strength, fast reflexes, and an animal instinct to survive at any cost now.

The one thing that Steve wanted to know right now was if there was a way to really save them.

He thought back to Dr. Maru and her experiments, to the Nazi camps during the Second World War, and felt sick in the pit of his stomach. Funny how people never truly learned not to play god. Their ways grew more refined, but at the core so little had changed over the past hundred years that he was starting to wonder if they were going to keep running in circles for as long as they existed as a species, or if there was hope for them still.

Steve jolted at the sound of a loud crack upstairs, and then a flash of lightning darted toward them, a breeze of movement sending a stack of papers to the floor and the air around them was suddenly thick with static and smell of the storm.

And then Barry was lowering Victor onto the concrete floor, grimacing with exertion as he struggled not to collapse as well.

“What happened?” Alfred asked as Steve moved instantly to crouch near the Cyborg, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

“Nothing,” Victor winced, his whole body twitching slightly all over. “I’m good.”

“No, he’s not,” Barry protested in between sucking in gulps of air, his face glistening with the rain water. “The robot man is not meant to be tossed against walls,” he explained.

Steve turned to Victor, not quite certain what he was looking for. He was no medic to begin with, and Victor… Victor wasn’t even human, biologically speaking. Whatever his injury was, it had to be internal, and to be completely honest, he wouldn’t know how to go about it even if he knew where to start.

“I’m good,” Victor insisted, frowning with one human eyebrow and waving them off. “Just… need to… I’m fine.”

“Is it over?” Alfred asked Barry.

“No,” Barry shook his head fanatically. “Diana said to get Vic out of the way.”

Her name set Steve’s inner alarms wailing. “Where is she?” He asked in a suddenly hoarse voice. “Barry, where is Diana?”

“She was with Arthur, last time I saw her,” the younger man responded if a little uncertainly. “They were about to be done. There was like a storage room, kinda like a vault on the lower lever and we were trying to lure them all there, those… things.” He inhaled with a shudder. “And then one of them sorta decided to play a Cyborg rugby.”

“He didn’t—” Victor winced.

“You stopped responding, dude,” Barry interjected and then looked up at Steve. “They should be here any moment.”

Steve nodded, not quite buying his feigned nonchalance, not when Barry was basically vibrating with either excitement or stress, or a combination of both. At least he didn’t seem hurt. Steve looked up at the screens. And froze.

Breaking into the Labs’ intranet was a piece of cake, what with Bruce’s advanced toys the origins of which he tried not to think too hard about. And helpful, too, as it allowed them to tap into the live feed of the security cameras. However, it wasn’t what drew Steve’s attention now. It was a small red warning signal blinking in the corner of the screen.

Earlier, when the power went off, the emergency generator kicked in. But right now he could see that for some reason, when the central supply was restored, the generator didn’t turn off as it was meant to, and now the place was so overloaded it was a miracle the sparks weren’t flying.

Steve darted toward the workstation and swore as his fingers hit the keyboard.

“Captain…” Alfred started.

“I need to turn off the power,” Steve muttered, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it happen. He could feel three pairs of eyes on him, quizzical and worried.

“Ms. Prince asked not to--” Alfred began, stepping toward Steve.

“It’s a laboratory, Alfred,” Steve cut him off. “What do they have in laboratories?”

“Super cool tech,” Barry piped in from behind them.

“Illegal experiments?” Alfred offered, puzzled.

Steve shook his head without looking away from the screen. “Oxygen tanks.”

He heard Alfred suck in a breath.

“If there is a fire…” Steve started, but refused to go any further, his imagination helpfully supplying him with a vivid picture he wasn’t sure he’d be able to erase any time soon. “Ms. Prince might need to be unhappy about this some other time--Dammit!” He smacked his fist on the keyboard in frustration. “It’s not responding. I need to—I have to—” He sprung up to his feet, his breath hitching. “They need to shut it off… Bruce!” He barked into an earpiece.

And it was then that he realized that he couldn’t hear anything anymore. Nothing, not even the ever present sound of someone’s footsteps or breathing heavy with exertion on the other side. The channel was silent.

“It’s down,” Alfred said before he could ask. “The communication system is down. Must be the storm…”

“Victor--”

“I can’t.” Still sprawled on the floor, the Cyborg grimaced in what looked like pain. “I can’t connect to anything, not until I…” He trailed off with a wince.

“I could go,” Barry said quickly standing up, his glance darting toward the staircase. “I’m fast.”

Steve paused and turned to him, considering his earnest, eager face, his whole body still shaking slightly either from energy coursing through him, or adrenaline, or cold. They needed to turn the power off as soon as possible, and of them all, Barry had speed on his side.

“Do you know how to do it?” Steve asked.

Barry hesitated. “If you tell me…”

At that, Steve was shaking his head and running up the stairs already, ignoring Alfred calling his name and taking two steps at a time because it was a matter of minutes, perhaps, and maybe Barry was fast, but if he did it wrong, he wouldn’t be helping anyone. He could kill them all.

Steve’s hands were shaking with adrenalize when he rolled his bike out of the garage and into the dark driveway, its wheels skidding on wet gravel. He tried Diana’s phone on the way out the door, not surprised to hear it ringing somewhere in the house – they left in a haste. And then Bruce’s in a burst of wild hope, but it went to voicemail, seeing as how they were all busy.

It was up to him then.

The rain was still falling in earnest, the wind throwing angry handfuls of water at the face shield of his helmet. The handlebars were sleek and slippery in his hands, and he had to grip them tight so as not to feel like he was going to veer off any moment. The wet road glinted in the headlight of his bike while the world around him was nothing but blackness and he hoped desperately that he wouldn’t get lost in the maze of unfamiliar streets as he circled around the city.

Another lightning pierced the sky, and Steve sped up, fearing the worst. If any of them hit S.T.A.R. Labs, it wouldn’t stand a chance. Even now, he was half-expecting to see a blaze of fire on the horizon.

Instead, the S.T.A.R. Labs perimeter lights came into view, sooner than he had anticipated, the parking lot glistening with puddles.

He skidded to an abrupt halt, the traction of his bike on the slippery ground nearly sending him flying, and hit the ground running as he yanked his helmet off and tossed it on the grass. Frigid rain blinded him momentarily. Even from twenty yards away, the building was towering ominously over him.

This part of town was crowded with banks and business centres, bustling with life and commotion during the day, but this late at night and in the storm that was seemingly trying to eradicate the world itself, it was dark and dead silent save for the explosions of thunder and the rusting of the rain. There was something unnerving in it, in the darkness around him and the echo of his footsteps on the pavement.

A few of the second-floor windows were lit up, but the front entrance was locked and his pounding on the thick reinforced-glass door remained unanswered. He could hear muffled sounds of struggle coming from the inside, police and ambulance sirens piercing the air – Alfred must have tipped them off. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, panic building up inside of him like a tidal wave threatening to drown him.

He swore under his breath, the expletives that even Charlie, known in his brave days as a cussing pro, would find impressive, and started toward the back of the building, desperately trying to remember the layout the saw captured on the CCTV camera and the floor plans that he wasn’t sure they could trust. The main breaker box controlling the power supply of the building was inside, but there was also a backup one, for emergencies, although Steve didn’t think that anyone could have possibly accounted for something like this when they were designing this facility.

He heard a glass break somewhere inside the building, his head snapped up automatically, and there was only so much he could so not to dash in that direction on instinct. Instead, he nearly fell, running into Batmobile, black as the night itself, parked crookedly on the lawn.

Someone screamed above him.

Breathless, Steve stumbled in the dark, hands groping along the wall, and then all but threw himself at the breaker box when his fingers grazed against the metal. He could smell the smoke already, the metal was hot when he touched it, but it was locked, too. He glanced around, looking for something to break into it with, but this far away from the street lights, everything was black and thick with shadows around him. He was running out of time.

He flexed his fingers, curling them into a fist, and hit the lock once, twice, three times, the door bending under the force of his blows. At last, something gave in inside of it and he yanked the door open with enough force to nearly rip it off, his eyes scanning the switches wildly. When he touched them, they were hot, almost melting. He could see small sparks, too. Could hear the low hum of electricity running wild.

A moment of hesitation, and Steve flipped a few switches down, burning his fingers on the melting plastic. The whole building plunged into darkness. Everything went eerily quiet for a few long moments. All he could hear was the patter of the rain all around him, heavy drops bouncing off his jacket, his hair plastered to his head.

And then a sound of a broken glass pierced the night. A window above him shattered and something – someone – went flying out of it. Steve recognized one of the subjects immediately by the swift roll along the wet grass and a predator crouch that he came up in. He looked up for a brief second and then his eyes fixed on Steve – a new target.

“Oh, hell,” Steve muttered when the man lunged at him, his teeth bared and his body poised for attack. They really didn’t have time for this.

The impact of collision sent Steve into the brick wall, his breath knocked out of his body. He hissed in pain when his bad shoulder took the worst of it, pain jolting down his arm and he pushed the soldier away. He stumbled as stars exploded behind his eyes, his hand groping along the wall for support. But the man wasn’t done. He was coming at Steve again. And bloody hell, those people were basically superhuman and he very much was not.

His hand shaking, he grabbed onto the breaker box door and yanked at it, slamming it into the man’s face. He staggered unsteadily but not from the damage so much as in surprise. Not letting him gain his bearings, Steve swung at him, punching him square into a jaw and bracing himself for another attack. However, before he could so much as blink, a glowing lasso all of a sudden wrapped around his chest. The next moment Diana herself landed gracefully behind them, her eyes blazing and her expression fierce in the pale glow of the emergency lights, and pulled hard.

The man fell back onto the concrete pathway with a dull thud, swallowed instantly by the darkness and rain. He didn’t move after that.

Steve exhaled sharply.

They stood in front of one another as the pause stretched between them, separated by the veil of rainfall. His chest was still heaving, his hands flexing ever so slightly, curling into fists and uncurling again, his mind oddly empty. This was the first time he saw her in her armour since the 50’s and he couldn’t help but stare.

Diana glanced down at the man sprawled at her feet, which Steve found awfully ironic and more than a little hilarious, considering that it summed up the feelings of all League members toward her pretty damn accurately, albeit in a slightly more figurative sense. Then she looked up at Steve, a faint frown on her face, although he couldn’t tell if it was meant for him or the situation in general.

But before either of them could say a word, Arthur appeared behind him, his eyes locked on the man sprawled on the ground.

“Nice catch, Cap,” he noted gruffly, but not without approval.

“Wasn’t me…” Stave started, swallowing back a comment about how much more in his element the Atlantian seemed when he was drenched, his hand clasped tightly around his trident and his face all but joyous in the fight. He truly did find his calling with the League, it seemed.

Steve hoped he didn’t spear anyone in that building, or they would have some serious issues with the authorities. Amanda Waller would not be pleased.

Another shadow that leaped from the broken window effectively derailed the train of his thought, and then Bruce was standing over the man as well, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breathing. Steve could see a cut on his cheek, the rain washing away the blood, his eyes narrowed against the wind.

He glanced briefly at Arthur and Steve before his gaze was drawn back to Diana. “I guess we got them all,” he noted.

She nodded and lifted her eyes again, but by then, Steve already stepped into the shadows and disappeared in the rain.

---

“Does it hurt?” Alfred asked, more curious than concerned, which, given Vic’s history with surviving far worse things wasn’t much of a surprise if Steve was honest with himself.

There was curiosity pulsing inside of him, too, so at least they had that in common.

Sprawled on the couch in the lounge, Victor looked up at him. “It doesn’t hurt,” he responded. “It’s more like…. Like if you throw a laptop against a wall, you wouldn’t really expect it to work as well as before, would you?”

“I wouldn’t throw a laptop against a wall,” Alfred noted.

“Not everyone is that considerate,” Victor grimaced a little, and tried again, “Imagine your system failing.”

Alfred arched an eyebrow at him. “I’d rather not.”

“So how does this work?” Steve asked. Sitting across the coffee table from the couch, he leaned forward, elbow propped on his thighs as he studied the Cyborg closely. He didn’t look any different, admittedly, but using his own analogy, a broken device might not either. Only one of his hands was flexing ever so slightly as if he was squeezing an invisible stress ball.

Victor turned to him. “Nano-bots will patch me up. At least I don’t feel like I’m being electrocuted from the inside anymore. I’ll be good as new in no time.”

“Which is… how long?” Barry inquired.

“A few hours, probably.”

“Would you like some aspirin, Mr. Stone?” Alfred offered graciously.

Victor shook his head. “Thanks, Alfred, but I don’t think it’s how this works.”

“Well, then,” the older man straightened up. “In that case, I better go check if Master Wayne has any bones that need to be snapped into place. Ms. Prince,” he nodded at Diana who stepped into the lounge on his way out.

A brief hello, and she moved into the room. “Victor,” she smiled at the Cyborg, walking over to the couch. She studied him, her head tilted. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone broke him,” Barry offered helpfully. He turned to the Cyborg and poked him in a metal shoulder. “Hey, can we reboot you?”

Victor waved his hand off. “Can we reboot you?”

“I’m not made of Nano-bots,” Barry pointed out.

“My point exactly.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Diana asked, nipping their bickering in the bud.

Victor tuned to her and nodded. “I am.” He paused. “It’s just—it’s easier to be here where my father doesn’t prod at me even though it’s nothing,” he added, and asked, “What about… those… whoever they were?”

Diana’s brows pulled together, and Steve remembered Arthur mentioning the Labs’ staff and night security who got a full dose of weird and had to be coaxed out of their hiding spots, not trusting the people who had attacked them to be detained and no longer dangerous. Several had to be sent to the hospital with concussion and a few broken bones, none of them coherent enough to even begin to tell their side of the story yet.

“They are under observation for now,” she responded. “Once the drug they are on wears off, they will be sent into a recovery therapy to see if they can remember what happened to them and who did it.”

“There was nothing in the S.T.A.R. Labs on them?” Steve looked up at her. “No records, no…”

“No,” she shook her head.

“I asked dad to check,” Victor spoke, his gaze darting between the two of them. “But he doesn’t have the clearance.”

“I bet we won’t have an issue with that,” Steve muttered, thinking of the magic that the Batcave contained.

Diana nodded. “Bruce will see if he can bypass their firewall, but there’s a chance that whoever is behind this was careful enough not to leave any trace.”

“So, we’re just making meta-humans now?” Barry asked, voicing what everyone was thinking.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Diana said diplomatically. “We don’t know that for a fact.”

“It was obvious enough last night,” he pointed out.

“Waller?” Victor offered.

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “She is quite busy trying to sweep it under the rug right now,” he said carefully, mindful of not looking at anyone in particular. “She couldn’t control Suicide Squad and she can’t control Justice League. It is not unreasonable to assume that her trying to keep quiet about this is an attempt to keep her record clean, but there is also a possibility that she might be tired of waiting and decided to take the matters into her own hands.”

“So that’s a yes, maybe,” Barry summed up.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Diana promised. She turned to Victor again and leaned in to place her hand on his cheek. “Thank you, for helping last night.”

He nodded again, and even smiled, his voice softening. “Sure thing.”

“And if there is anything--”

“I’ll ask,” he promised.

She reached for his hand a squeezed it, encouragement and affection pouring out of her eyes. Then she looked up, her eyes locking with Steve’s.

“Can we talk?” She asked.

He blinked, startled, as if there was another Steve in the room and she couldn’t have possibly meant him. His gaze held hers, a silent question in her eyes. Anticipation. Uncertainty. They were doing a damn good job dancing around one another without much of actual communication and he wondered what could have possibly made that change.

“Yeah. Sure, of course,” he said when the pause between them grew sufficiently awkward and cleared his throat.

“In private,” Diana added when he remained sitting.

Steve nodded if a little hesitantly, feeling like a moron for no reason that he could pinpoint, and rose from his seat to follow her.

“What’d you do?” Barry’s whispered theatrically to his back, but Steve barely registered the question.

He thought they would to the study, or maybe the kitchen, but instead Diana headed to the garage where she pulled the driver’s door of a grey Volvo open, keys in hand. She paused when Steve stopped several feet away from the car, more confused than anything at this point, watching him with one eyebrow raised. Half-dare, half-invitation.

Oh, hell, it wasn’t like he had anything to lose, and his curiosity was starting to get the best of him.

Steve slid into the passenger seat without a word and she started the car, the engine purring softly under the hood as they rolled out into the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires.

“Were they the military?” He asked when they were on the highway, staring out of his window and trying not to think of a thousand reasons for Diana to ask him to come somewhere with her for a talk, none of which looked particularly bright in his mind.

There was little they could say to one another that couldn’t be said in front of everyone else in the house, and he wondered if the trip was meant to make it less uncomfortable for either of them.

“It seems so, yes,” she responded, her voice measured.

He nodded. “Makes sense. If you want to create enhanced soldiers, it would probably pay off to use the real ones for it.”

The idea made him sick, the things he’s seen before vivid and clear before his eyes. They had fought so hard for every grain of peace. He could still smell the blood on his hands, feel the recoil of the rifle ram into his shoulder, hear the echo of the gunfire so clear in his mind like someone was pulling the trigger not ten feet away from him. All this, and they were still here, in the midst of another war the people were bringing upon themselves for no reason he could think of. And still, every victory felt like merely a stepping stone leading to another battle, and another one, and another one. And there seemed to be no end to them.

Nothing was ever enough.

“Do you really think Amanda Waller is behind it?” Steve asked after a few moments.

Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel. “The question is – why would she?”

“You said so yourself – she wanted someone like you to control, but she can’t control the League. I don’t see anything stopping her from trying to create an army of Terminators if she is so hell-bent on power.”

He saw Diana glance at him out of the corner of her eye. “I thought that having you here was meant to get Bruce to cooperate.”

“Bruce doesn’t seem like the type,” Steve breathed.

There was something that the Batman wanted from Waller, but Steve didn’t know how long they would keep up this charade without going for each other’s throats. When her team arrived at S.T.A.R. Labs last night, just missing that narrow window of being useful, he did think that it was not going to end well. He wondered how close they came to having another casualty or two.

Diana bit he lip, two faint lines appearing between her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

They hadn’t spoken again until she pulled up to a curb near an old apartment building not far from the business district of Gotham. Red-brick building with bay windows and high stoops reminded Steve of the Beacon Hill area in Boston. He looked up, taking in the cheery curtains on said windows and potted plants on the windowsills and the general air of coziness that spoke of belonging, and felt a twinge in his gut. Nostalgia for the things he never had.

He followed Diana up the stoop leading to the entrance and then to the third floor where she opened one of the doors and stepped into an apartment. The large window right across the door overlooked the street and a row of similar houses on the other side of the road. He allowed himself to have a look around, noting that the place seemed spacious but impersonal. There were no knickknacks on the half-empty bookshelf, plain blinds instead of curtains, and the air smelled faintly of dust. Clearly, it had been a while since anyone bothered to open windows to let some fresh air in. Or to live here, for that matter.

“What is this place?” He asked at last, overcome with curiosity.

Diana closed the door behind them and paused hear the counter that was separating the small kitchen from the living room. She put the car keys on the countertop that, to Steve, looked like real marble. He was no expert, but the place seemed like a rare find.

“Clark stayed here when he was working on Lex Luthor’s case,” she answered, glancing around. “Bruce kept it after he—after Clark died so that Lois could take care of his things.” Okay, that would explain the boxes in the corner, Steve thought. “I think he’ll just wait for the lease to expire rather than bother dealing with it. I thought…” She trailed off and looked at him, her arms folded over her chest. “I thought it would be slightly more private than the house. It can get…”

“Hectic,” he finished when she paused, searching for words. “Okay, sure.” He shrugged and stared at her expectantly.

The slight frown of disapproval made its return as Diana gave him a measured look.

“What you did last night was reckless,” she said. Not angry, but there was a sliver of frustration simmering right under her skin, close enough for him to catch a glimpse.

“Driving in the rain? I doubt it,” he brushed her off. “I mean, statistically speaking….”

“You know what I mean,” she interjected, not falling for his attempt at deflecting. “The electric doors were the only thing keeping those people contained.”

“I don’t think it stopped that guy that leaped out of the window,” he reminded her, his heartbeat stuttering just a bit at the memory of expressionless face and dead eyes staring at him.

“He was the last one. What if they--”

“But they didn’t,” Steve countered. “They shouldn’t have been created in the first place.”

“That is not the point,” Diana shook her head and leveled him with a gaze. “You could have been hurt,” she added softer.

“I wasn’t.” Steve stuffed hands into the pockets of his pants, wishing he knew where this was coming from.

She couldn’t argue with this logic and they both knew that they would drown in what-ifs if they ever allowed themselves to venture there, but there was something else that bothered her that he couldn’t see yet. He watched her try to figure it out for herself, and the possibilities scared him.

“If we’re a part of the team, I need to be able to trust you,” Diana said at last.

Steve glanced away from her. “You used to,” he muttered.

“You were not supposed to be there last night, Steve. If something happened to you--” She took a breath, her voice finding a disapproving edge, and his pulse tripped over itself. “We wouldn’t—I wouldn’t know to help you until it was too late.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t—” he started, trying to focus on the conversation and not her eyes watching him with careful anticipation and the fact that this was the first time in the past few weeks that they were really and truly alone without a mission or anything of that kind looming over their heads.

I don’t need help.

He exhaled sharply.

“You think I don’t understand that this,” he gestured at the two of them, his voice something short of bitter, “is not working? You think I don’t see it, Diana?” He grimaced when she glanced away. “I know that this is not about Amanda Waller or Bruce or anyone else. This is about something more and it will always be about—about--”

Us. He didn’t dare say it.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

They should have discussed this a while ago, he figured. They should have tried to maybe find a way to make this work before the situation escalated to a kind of crisis that could have someone killed.

“Look, I wasn’t trying go against your decisions,” he tried again, fighting to keep his voice even. Surely he could lay out the facts without being carried away by… her presence or something. “I just… I saw what you couldn’t see, okay? The building’s power system was overloaded. It was minutes away from going up in flames. And with the storm… If it did reach the critical point, someone escaping that place would’ve been the least of everyone’s problems, believe me. If I could get to Bruce, he’d be the one flipping the switch, but the communication system was down and Victor was out of commission, so…”

He felt frustrated, tired, helpless. And standing before her and not being able to reach for her filled him with such throbbing ache that he felt it deep in his bones. Standing before her and not being able to even hold her gaze because it felt like a sucker punch was even worse, somehow.

Steve shook his head and stepped further into the room, allowing his glance to wander. A distraction as good as any to keep his mind off Diana. She used to trust him, without thinking, without hesitation, and knowing that she didn’t anymore… well, that hurt almost more than everything else.

“What is it that Amanda Waller wanted from you, Steve?” She spoke behind him.

A sharp, humorless laugh bubbled up in his chest, and the sound that escaped his throat was painful even to his own ears. “From me? Nothing. I’m just her means to an end. She wants to control Bruce Wayne and thinks that getting in his good grace will make that happen.” He paused, and then added, “She has some personal information about me, something she should never have found. She promised to erase it if I do something for her.” His lips curled into a bitter something. “Of course, she conveniently forgot to mention a detail or two.”

“Do you trust her to keep her word?” Diana asked.

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted, turning to look at her again. “But I’d like to try and minimize the risk of Amanda Waller or whoever might come after her using it against me.”

A faint frown creased her forehead. “So, this is why you came?”

It didn’t sound much like a question but he still unanswered. “Yes.”

“And why you stayed?”

Steve nodded.

She pursed her lips together. “I see.”

“I know this is not the most…” he started, “…desirable situation for you, and it was your boyfriend’s idea to agree to Waller’s offer – and trust me, I know that we both wanted him not to – but I guess we could figure out how to… maybe stay out of each other’s way without jeopardizing anything for the League.” And added, “It’s the last thing I want, I swear.”

Diana’s brows knitted together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not trying to—to take over, or anything.” Steve took a breath. “Look, I was only trying to help. I want to help. I really do, and last night--”

“No, what did you say about Bruce?” She stopped him.

Heat crept up his cheeks. Great, now they have to go into semantics.

He kind of figured out that whatever it was, the League was either completely clueless, or suspected something but didn’t know it for a fact. Either way, they didn’t seem to have a particular opinion on it. Not that he could blame Diana for wanting to keep her private life private and everything.

“I mean… whatever it is that you guys are.”

Smooth. Very smooth. Several generations of his spy predecessors were probably rolling in their graves now, watching him crash and burn from the other side.

Diana was staring at him like he was speaking a tongue she could not understand.

She tilted her head. “We’re not anything. Bruce and I, we’re not – did you think we were together?”

He looked away. “I saw you. My first night in Gotham, Waller suggested we meet at the hotel that housed that charity function to give me a crash course on the best and brightest of this city… Which was a smart move, actually. You know what they say about being invisible in the crowd.” Steve trailed off. “And there you two were,” he cleared his throat again, “kissing.”

Her face fell, the defensive lines smoothing out. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he breathed out.

“It’s not like that,” Diana shook her head. “We’re not… like that. We never were. That kiss was--”

He held up his hand, stopping her. “Don’t say it was a mistake.”

“It was not a mistake. It was nothing.” Her voice was soft but decisive, without a trace of hesitation, and Steve tried real hard to ignore the flutter in his chest. “It was one glass of champagne too many and an impulse.”

“Does Bruce know about that?” He didn’t mean the question to sound so territorial. And yet…

“Of course.”

“—because it sure as hell doesn’t seem so,” he finished. The way he acts around you. The way he is around you…”

“I can’t tell him what to think or feel,” Diana said. “Just like no one has that kind of command over me.”

“And you—you live in his house,” he added, as if not hearing her.

“So do other people,” she pointed out. “I am only ever in Gotham on the League business. Staying at Bruce’s house is merely a matter of convince.” God, he hated the logic that he couldn’t argue with. She paused. “So, all this time…”

“Well, to be fair, I had no reason to think otherwise,” Steve admitted. His gaze skittered around “I just thought you weren’t too… demonstrative in your--” passion.

He choked on the word that opened room to the kind of mental images that were to drive him insane if he let them loose. He had already spent too many a night, thinking of her in another man’s arms a few walls away from him.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

He rubbed his eyes, wishing that they never started this conversation at all. Wishing – shockingly – that he was at the lake house, listening to Arthur and Victor debate something or other, to Barry argue with a video game and Alfred telling them to please not put their feet on the antique coffee table, thank you very much. The list could go on and on and on. Anywhere but here, really, if only because he didn’t want to think of what Diana’s admittance meant and that wild satisfaction that it stirred inside of him. The one that he had no right to own.

“I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to pry,” he added lamely, for lack of better ideas. “I… I respect your privacy, and if that was something that you wanted to keep to yourself…” he trailed off, all too aware of sounding more or less like a moron.

“You weren’t prying.” Her voice was soft. “And I told you that there is nothing happening between me and Bruce. I’d never lie to you, Steve,” she said earnestly.

A laugh that escaped his mouth was short and harsh, grating even to his own ears. Steve hated the sound of it.

“Like you never lied to me about the fact that I died in Paris?” The words came out of his mouth before he knew to stop them, and now that the wound was cut open again, he couldn’t help but keep twisting the knife. “On that day after liberation, when a German bomb hit out hotel. That kind of thing?”

Diana froze, all colour draining from her face.

“Because you didn’t.”

He met her gaze, adamant. “But I did, didn’t I? I was dead when you found me.” He watched anguish cross her features like a shadow. “Until I wasn’t.”

In the silence that fell between them, he could hear the clock ticking on the wall in the kitchen and a car honking outside, and a whirlwind of her thoughts that she couldn’t structure into anything coherent. And suddenly the air was so thick he couldn’t take a proper breath.

“How did you…” Diana started.

Steve looked away from her.

There was a snow globe sitting on the shelf right before him. He doubted that it was Clark’s. Probably some other tenant forgot it here a lifetime ago and no one who came to live here afterwards had the heart to throw it away. It was small, the size of a tennis ball, and inside of it was a village – a church and a several buildings sitting around a town square with a fountain in the middle of it. Steve stepped toward the shelf and picked it up. He shook it, setting a snowstorm into motion, white flakes circling above the buildings and falling on the roofs and the cobbled street and windowsills.

It looked so much like Veld that he almost felt the chilly November air biting at his cheeks as they sat on the ledge of the fountain, watching the celebrations. Could hear the music spilling through the open café doors and Charlie’s unsteady voice that tried to find itself again after all the time when Charlie had nothing to be joyful about. He could smell the chimney smoke and the snow, and in contract to it, the touch of Diana’s hand to his felt hot as fire. There was wonder in her eyes, unadulterated curiosity the likes of which Steve couldn’t remember seeing in his entire life. And his heart was beating so thunderously in his chest that he was certain she could hear it, too.

“Your mother told me,” he said after a few moments, his eyes still glued to the dance of plastic snowflakes. “When we went to Themyscira.”

“My mother…” Diana echoed, confused. “I don’t understand. Why would she…” She paused, her breath hitching. Steve could feel her eyes on him, burning right through him, and he knew that he was cornered. That there was no way out this time.

He was so sick of lying.

He turned to her, meeting her gaze and holding it despite the fact that he could barely stand it, shame and guilt making him want to fold in on himself and cease to exist. She deserve more. So much more. More than the world itself. All the things he couldn’t give her because he was not enough, it was simple as that. But he could give her the truth, at least. Maybe he could make it count for something.

And so he told her everything. About his conversation with Hippolyta and Diana’s mother opening his eyes to his miraculous survival in not one, but two explosions that would have killed anyone else. About how Diana was the one who made it happen and how it came with a price neither of them had bargained for.

He had imagined that conversation thousands of times over the years, playing out his words in his mind, a smooth flow of the story that was meant to fix everything. But now that he was speaking the truth, the words kept jamming in his throat, squashed by the look of utter incomprehension on Diana’s face.

She was listening to him silently, her eyes disbelieving and her posture rigid, shocked. He could hear her try and put two and two together in her mind, sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing, her logic fighting a losing battle with her heart. He could see it all in her eyes, betrayal and hurt, not only his but her mother’s as well, again. How many times could one person go through something like this before they couldn’t do it anymore?

Steve wondered what kept her fighting after all this time when he’d come so close to giving up. He feared that this might be the last straw. He loved her for her goodness and kindness and compassion above all else. But how much of it was still there to keep her going after mankind had let her down over and over again for a hundred years?

He tore his gaze away from her, unable to stand the things that he was seeing, feeling exposed and all the more at fault for everything that had happened between them, for having done this to her and still doing it. The air felt charged between them, thick and heavy. Like it was a living thing in and of itself, breathing and pulsing around them. Steve felt his skin prickle under her scrutiny when he spoke of the day when he walked away from her, his voice not nearly as measured as he wanted it to be. And he knew the exact moment when she couldn’t stand looking at him as well.

“This can’t be…” Diana whispered when he fell silent. “My mother… she ought to be wrong, I couldn’t—I can’t--”

“You told me you couldn’t shoot lightning from your gauntlets until a certain point, either, but you’re a daughter of Zeus, Diana. Is it really that much of a stretch to believe that you can grant life?”

She was shaking her head. “But why would she tell it to you, and not me?”

He paused. “She thought that it was my life, and my choice to make.”

“It wasn’t.” Her voice was laced with accusation and contempt now.

“She thought that if you knew, you would have tried to save everyone. And if you did, it would destroy you,” Steve breathed.

“How could you not tell me?” She whispered and pressed her hand to her lips.

“How could I do it?” He turned to her. “You… you gave me my life back at the cost of—of yours, your strength. And all I could do in return was take from you, giving nothing but pain back?”

Diana’s brows knitted together. She rubbed her forehead. “How can you even know that it’s true?”

He did think of that. He had spent years thinking of that, hoping against all hope that Hippolyta was only half-right, the good half. The one that meant that they could be together for the rest of eternity without either of them having to suffer the consequences of this decision.

Steve ducked his head and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, willing the right words to come. At last, he had a chance to do right by her. And he needed her so desperately to understand.

“Because I had the goddamned nightmares every night after the war, everything that I’d done, everything that was done to me. All of it on an endless loop because I couldn’t scratch them out of my head.” He pinched the bridge of his nose until it hurt, until he couldn’t stand it anymore and had no choice but to look at her. “Every single night, Diana. Until you came back, and then they were gone. Until you started having them instead.”

She was staring at him in stunned silence.

“The things that you didn’t understand, but I did because I lived them.” He whispered, begging her to see and knowing that she couldn’t. “How could I keep doing this to you?”

“You lied to me, Steve,” she started and stopped, pressing her lips into a thin line. He wondered what words of blame she was trying to swallow back. “You promised you would never lie.”

He felt his shoulders slump.

“What would you have done, Diana? If the situation was reversed, what would it be?”

“I’d talk to you,” she said forcefully, heatedly.

“Talk to me?” Steve echoed, a sharp pained laugh clawing its way out of his throat. “Like you talked to me that time when you snuck out in the middle of the night and disappeared for 16 years?”

Her face fell. “Is that why… why you did it? Because I--”

“Christ, no,” he breathed out and scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, it wasn’t—it wasn’t a payback. I wouldn’t, no--” He took in a shuddered breath. “I didn’t know what else to do,” Steve admitted, his voice dropping in defiance. “But I couldn’t stand hurting you any longer. I couldn’t stand holding you back and thinking that if something happened to you, it would’ve been my fault.”

“But it still hurt, Steve,” she whispered. “Every day when you were gone.”

She might have as well slapped him. God knew he deserved it.

“And if I told you? What if I did, what would…” He trailed off, not sure how to put it into words. Not sure if he wanted to hear her answer.

“I wouldn’t care,” she said simply and without hesitation. “I loved you. If what you’re saying is true, if my mother was right…” The words sounded odd and foreign on her tongue as she tried to believe him, not yet succeeding. “If I loved you enough to keep your heart beating, what would any of this matter? All I ever wanted was to be with you.”

Steve felt his body deflate.

It occurred to him that they both completely lost track of time. The soft light of the afternoon turned honey-gold as the sun started to dip toward the horizon, flooding the room with the kind of warmth that he wanted to bottle up and hold on to, the old rug striped with the shadows that painted an entirely new story beneath their feet.

All this time in this world, and the one thing that never ceased to amaze Steve was that time stopped for nothing. Someone’s life might be falling apart, people’s joys and tragedies morphing seamlessly into one another, mind-shattering and breathtaking, but the Earth would keep on spinning, not pausing for anyone. Never allowing them to catch on.

“I know,” he breathed, feeling so drained all of sudden that his very bones ached with it. “Because if it was me, I wouldn’t care, either. But how could I keep doing that to you, Diana? How could I save you from myself if I stayed?”

“I didn’t need you to save me,” she argued, looking at him like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I needed you to want me.”

I did, I do, he thought watching her, relieved to finally have the weight of this secret lifted off his shoulders, and loathing himself beyond comprehension for having done this to her, for the unshed tears in her eyes.

“If you wanted to go, I would never have forced you to stay,” Diana added. “I would never have made you do anything against your will, least of all be with me if you wanted something else for yourself. But you still should have told me. You had to have told me, Steve.”

He ran his hand over his face. “What difference would it make?”

He flinched when the hurt lurking behind her eyes flared up with startling intensity.

“Well, maybe then I wouldn’t have to spend nearly seventy years of my life certain that the only man I’ve ever loved thought that being with me was a mistake.”

There was no anger to her words, no resentment, no accusation, but Steve would have preferred them to disappointment and weariness. To the bloody acceptance.

All air wheezed out of him. “I never said that it was a mistake.”

“You said that we had nowhere left to go, that we couldn’t have ended otherwise. What else could it possibly mean?” She looked away from him, staring instead at the floor and the ornate carpet under their feet. “If all of this is true, if you were so adamant to leave then, why would you stay now?”

“I thought that you were with Bruce,” he responded softly. “I thought that you’ve moved on and none of this would matter anymore. You didn’t want me here anyway.”

Her expression hardened when she lifted her eyes again. “Don’t put it on me, Steve. I waited for you, and all you have wanted since the moment when you walked through Waller’s door was to escape again. I merely didn’t want to be reminded of everything I wished for us to have but that we never did.”

“I don’t--” Steve rubbed his eyes. “I’m not trying to—it’s not what I meant.” He shook his head. “Do you think I wanted to be here and watch you be in love with someone else?”

“I’m not. I wasn’t.” She trailed off. They stayed quiet for a few moments – him running his thumb over a worn wood of the bookshelf because it made for a great avoidance technique apparently, and Diana staring at the wall because it probably beat looking at him. And then he heard her inhale shakily. “None of this matters, right?” Her voice was hard and clipped behind him. “You’ll get what you want from Waller and be on your way.”

Steve swallowed and turned to face her. “Yes.”

And then he would spend the rest of his days thinking of how spectacularly he had screwed up the one good thing that ever happened to him and knowing exactly how much he hurt the only woman he was ever crazy about. Who still, despite everything, was his entire world.

She nodded. “I see.”

Steve’s gaze skittered past her.

“You know, when you called me a liar and a murderer, it was a spot on. It’s all I am, all I ever was.” His voice dropped. He glanced out the window because the words came easier that way, when he didn’t feel as exposed as when he wanted to cross the damn room and kneel before her, taking back every hurtful word that ever fell between them. “You think I didn’t know that? You think I don’t know that I never deserved you? You’re a princess, for heaven’s sake. You’re a goddess, Diana. What did I ever have to give you?”

A car drove down the street, swerving to avoid a cyclist. A gust of wind picked up an empty coffee cup and chased it down the pavement. Even with the windows closed, he could smell wet soil and fallen leaves and the cold that was yet to come.

“It wasn’t your decision to make. Not like that.”

“I’m not going to stay at the lake house,” he murmured without arguing. Maybe it wasn’t his decision to make, but someone had to make it nonetheless. “I’ll find—I’ll find a place and get out of your hair. I’ll figure out how to take care of Waller.”

Diana nodded again, lips pressed together.

“It’ll be better that way,” Steve added even though she didn’t protest.

He could barely look at her, shame and resentment eating him up from the inside. Everything that was good in the world, everything that was worth saving – it all lived in her soul, a little weathered and frayed after her time in man’s world but no less brilliant regardless. She deserved the stars from the sky, but there was only so much that he could offer.

“Very well,” Diana said quietly after a moment.

This is it, Steve thought. He had finally hammered the last nail into the coffin of everything that had ever happened between them, the good things and the pain laced through the moments in time when it was too big to contain. He broke every promise he had ever made to her, except for the one to love her until his final breath, and even though his chest felt lighter somehow with the words spilled out and shared at last, it seemed like a small consolation for what was yet to come. His relief over the fact that he didn’t have to watch her be happy with someone else quickly replaced by the sad truth of not being the one by her side either.

Steve stepped away from the bookshelf and the snow globe and willed himself to bottle up the memory of Veld and every day that he’d spent with her since then as tight as he could, and tried not to think of how his world was tearing at the seams all over again.

Diana turned around without a word, reaching for the car keys still sitting on the counter, and Steve followed her in silence. There was nothing else to say, and filling the silence just for hell of it felt cheap. He bet that this wasn’t how she expected their conversation to go.

At the door, she reached for the knob, twisting it, but the old lock jammed, refusing to turn. Behind her, Steve stopped abruptly not expecting her to pause, nearly stepping on her heels, so close to her now that he could hear her breathe. Could catch the smell of honey and flowers on her skin and the faint scent of her leather jacket.

Diana stilled, her grip on the doorknob so tight that her knuckles had gone white, unmoving and aware of his sudden proximity, and all he could think of was how much he missed the unobstructed closeness of her. Not accidental, not the one that he tended to avoid, but her presence in its purest form.

“Did you mean it?” Steve asked quietly when several moment had passed and yet none of them moved.

She half-turned, looking somewhere past her shoulder. “Did I mean what?”

“That I was the only man you ever loved.”

“What does it matter?” She whispered, still not looking at him.

His gaze followed the slope of her forehead, the flutter of her eyelashes, the line of her nose and down toward the curve of her mouth, seeping her in. Allowing himself to do it on the off chance it wouldn’t happen again any time soon.

He closed his eyes.

“Everything,” he said at last, a whoosh of breath that fell on her neck.

Diana turned slowly, still caught between him and the door, and looked up. He opened his eyes and found her gaze, deep and so damn beautiful that he forgot how to function. He could feel her search for words, studying him from this close – something she’d done thousands of times, but never like this. Like she was trying to reach for something deep inside of him. Steve’s heart had never felt this heavy in his chest, as though his very soul was bleeding.

She reached tentatively for his face, her thumb brushing against a small faint scar on his chin underneath the faint shadow of stubble, a thin pale line – two wars and numerous battles, and he somehow managed to cut himself while shaving. God, there was so much irony to it – he remembered laughing at it as he held a towel to a careless nick that was stinging from the remnants of the aftershave on his skin and she was smiling at him from the bathroom door, no less amused than he was.

“Diana.”

“I remember this,” She whispered. Her fingers stroked his cheek gently as blood roared through his veins. “I remember everything.”

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry…” Steve started and stumbled, a hot lump lodged in his throat and panic rising inside of him in waves. “For not knowing how to fix this mess back then… and for not knowing how to do it now.”

The words were tumbling out of his mouth, frantic and hurried like he was running out of time, and his heart was hammering so fast in his chest that he could barely hear himself speak. There were words perhaps that could make her understand and he was desperate to find them.

“I didn’t know what to do—I still don’t, but if I stayed… if I stayed, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. And if—if I told you everything, and you’d asked me not to go, I would never--” Steve swallowed, his mouth dry. His voice was tight and hoarse, and the touch of her hand burned on his skin. “I thought it would be easier to make you hate me, I wanted you to hate me, but I can’t—if I could take it back, take it all back and redo the past, I’d do it right. Somehow, I’d find a way to do it right.”

Diana bowed her head when he fell silent, looking away from him, and Steve felt the ground swim beneath his feet. The urge to reach for her was unbearable.

“When you left, it felt like something tore me in half,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry.” The apology fell from his lips again, earnest as it could be. “I missed you… every day, every moment,” he murmured, scared to touch her even though he could all but hear her heartbeat next to him, so close she was. “I wish I knew how to make it better, how to fix it all. How to…” His mind was running in circles, making him faint. “I never thought those things that I said, that… that there was nowhere for us to go because the only thing I ever wanted was to be with you. But not like this, not that that cost--”

She lifted her face to his, tilting her head, and then she closed the distance between them. Her mouth brushed to his, soft and familiar, effectively rendering Steve completely and utterly speechless.

“I’d do it again,” Diana whispered against his lips. “To have you with me, I’d do it a thousand times.”

She kissed him again, her mouth moving slowly over his, breathing for him when there was no air left between them, their memories chasing one another and blossoming into something new. Her hand curled over Steve’s jacket, fingers pushing into his hair, and it was all the permission that he needed to kiss her back. His palm cupped over her cheek, his hand on her hip pulling her closer still, and Christ, he missed her so much.

“Diana…”

“I never stopped waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured once more, not certain what else to say, his words punctuated by her lips touching to his. I’m sorry. He might say those words for a million years and it still wouldn’t be enough. His hands curled over her wrists, pulling her hands down from his face and holding them against his chest. They were both breathless, dizzy. “Diana… you can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up. “Can’t love you still?” She freed one of her hands from his grasp and curled it over his jaw. “Why?”

Because you’re better than this, he was thinking. Because you deserve more.

This close to him, she was so impossibly beautiful that all he could do was stare, drinking her in.

“Because… I told you why,” Steve shook his head as if there was a chance in the world that either of them could forget the past couple hours. “How can you say this after… after everything?” His voice cracked, and he sucked in an unsteady breath. He dragged his gaze away from hers and focused instead on her fingers curled over his and pressed right above his heart. “I lied to you. I hurt you. And I know my ‘sorry’ is not enough, can’t be enough…” He started and faltered, no longer certain where he was going with this. “Surely after all this time--”

“Steve.”

He wasn’t sure why he was trying to convince her to push him away when the only thing he ever wanted was finally right there at his fingertips, but he certainly deserved her rejection more than her grace and the kind smile that made his heart ache.

“You are so much better than me,” he added quietly. “So much more. How can you--”

Her hand swept his hair back from his face, making him still under her touch, her eyes searching his, studying him like she’d never seen him before.

“Because I’d choose it,” she responded at last so softly that he barely heard her over the blood rush in his ears.

“Choose what?” Steve blinked, failing to follow.

It was getting decidedly hard to keep track of their conversation with her fingers brushing absently against his skin, making his pulse stutter with every touch. For all he knew, they could be talking about the weather, and he’d still be lost.

Diana’s lips quivered, a smile that didn’t quite come. “If someone asked me, I’d choose to bring you back to me. I’d choose to take your pain away,” she said. “Of course, I would.” Her thumb ran over his chin again. “I would always choose you.” She hesitated when an afterthought dawned on her. “If you still want me.”

If he still wanted her?

She was looking at him with such tenderness that he was scared to so much as blink for fear of missing even a second of it, her skin soft and warm beneath his touch and her pulse a rapid staccato under his fingertips. He thought of the first time he had laid his eyes on her and how she smiled at him in relief and wonder, so radiant that it was brighter than the sun. Thought of every morning that he’d got wake up next to her and every single thing they had ever said to one another. And he wanted more of all of that now, as much as his life could fit, be it another year or a thousand.

Steve nodded. And then again, frantically, confused by her implication – how could he not want her?

She tugged him down by the lapels of his jacket to kiss him once more. It was hasty and breathless, and he could taste tears on her lips, although there was no telling who they belonged to. He thought he was dreaming.

“I love you,” Steve muttered against her mouth. “I love you, Diana.”

Her breath hitched, a low sound forming in the back of her throat nearly undoing him in the best way. His hands slipped around her, snaking underneath her jacket to touch her the way he wanted for so long. He pressed her flat against the door, kissing her with reverence and urgency and some serious desperation. Lithe and languid against him, she wound her arms around his neck, her fingers tugging at his hair as she dragged her mouth along his cheek, nuzzling into the soft behind his ear.

“Diana.”

He name fell from his lips like a curse and a plea, fingers flexing on the fistfuls of her clothes.

When she drew back for a shaky inhale, her eyes were glazed-over with want, meeting his briefly before she pressed her mouth to his jaw, inching it slowly toward his heck, her breath of on his skin making him weak in the knees. Desire tightened in his stomach .

Her body pushed against his, and he took a step back, and then another one, and another one into the late afternoon light of the living room. And then her mouth was on his, plying his lips open and the crazy collision from a few minutes ago turned into something purposeful, deliberate. She arched into him, and for a long, endless moment all Steve could think was finally.

There was a time quite a while back, maybe twenty-something years ago when he stopped being able to summon her voice as clearly as he used to in his mind, when the taste of her was but a ghost in his memory and the way her laughter resonated deep within him carried none of the weight that he loved so, and he wondered not without dread about the day when she would only remain in the periphery of his recollection, incorporeal. Kissing her now, though, feeling her respond to the slightest of his touches, Steve wanted to laugh at the idea of being even remotely capable of forgetting her even after a millennium. Of letting go.

Suddenly, her touch was gone, and when he opened his eyes, half-panicked and dazed in equal measure, she already let her jacket fall to the floor at her feet. He looked at her, a silent question in his gaze, a hesitation to allow her to change her mind, but she was stepping toward him and nodding and reaching to push his jacket down his shoulders and allow the gravity to take it.

“Diana,” he muttered hoarsely.

His hands on her hips, he drew her to him as the fear of this moment shattering before his eyes pounded in his mind. The only man I’ve ever loved. The words resonated within him with achy longing. Diana’s fingers brushed to his lips, skimming over his face as if she was reading him in Braille. And then they dropped to his chest, dark eyes watching him.

“I still want you,” he said hoarsely, honestly.

Her gaze traveled over her face and down his body, palms running over his shoulders, and then she was tugging at his shirt and inching it up until Steve raised his arms over his head for her to pull it off and toss it aside.

She smiled, hand smoothing his rumpled hair, but her eyes were hungry and wanting. Desire careened through him with all-consuming intensity. His awareness tunnelled, zeroing in on what little space was still there between them as he drank her up with his eyes, needing to touch her, to never stop touching her, but needing even more to capture this instant, its fragility slicing right through him.

This was the moment when they needed to pause and maybe talk everything through. She had more questions, he knew it, could see it in her eyes earlier. There were words on the tip of his tongue too, waiting to be spoken. Yet none of them stopped, and when her eyes found his, he forgot what he was thinking.

“Does this hurt?” Diana asked, skimming her fingers lightly over the bruise on his shoulder that had faded from the terrifying purple to faint yellow, still tender but not nearly as bad as it was before. A slight frown creased her face.

Steve shook his head. “No, just looks bad.”

She nodded and leaned down to press a kiss to it, her mouth moving to a scar above his collarbone, as gentle as she could be. His eyes closed, seeping in the feeling of her. Her lips latched on the side of his neck, sucking hard on his skin, and Steve swore quietly, his fingers bunching the back of her shirt that was one layer too many between them.

Impatience surged through him, forming into a low grunt. He felt Diana smile against his throat. She found his mouth again, kissing every promise she could make right into him, her hands moving over his chest, tracing a map of scars – a life lived with purpose. He let her, revelling in the familiar swell of belonging rising inside of him, his muscles flexing under her touch. His hands tugged at her shirt once again, more urgently, and she drew back just far enough away to peel it off before her hands cupped his face again.

“I love you,” Diana whispered, nuzzling into his cheek. She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I missed you.”

“I’m here,” he promised.

His hands slid up her sides, gliding over the smooth skin, palms flat over her ribs. And then they were moving, one stumbling step at a time, turn between desperate urgency and the need to make every touch, every kiss count. Steve hoped she knew where they were going because he sure as hell was too busy to pay attention, focused on her hands on his body and his on hers. For all he cared, they could have just collapsed on the floor and it would’ve been fine with him.

Her hand slipped around his neck, fingers burrowing into his hair and, god help him, he wanted her so badly that he could barely stand it.

Steve’s calves hit the mattress – how they reached the bedroom he had no idea and no time to think about it - and he lowered down to sit on the edge of it, tugging Diana to him by the belt loops until she was standing between his parted knees.

“I have never not loved you,” he whispered, kissing down her sternum while his fingers worked on unzipping her pants and pushing them down her hips for her to stop out of them. “I have never not wanted you.” His eyes dropped shut, his voice hoarse and low as he murmured against her skin, but he didn’t care. She was here. His, at last.

He took a shuddered breath and exhaled slowly, struggling to get his heartbeat and blood flow under control. This was not meant to be over before it even started.

Diana’s breath caught in her throat, a shiver drilling down her body. For a moment, he merely sat here with his forehead pressed to her skin, breathing her in, fearful of his heart bursting right out of his chest. Her hand carded thought his hair, and Steve squeezed his eyes tight, willing himself to remember this second for as long as he existed on this earth.

Her hands slid down and under his chin to lift his head to look at her, his face cradled in her palms as her thumb kept running over his cheekbone. Steve swallowed, hard. Heat flared up in her eyes, pouring into him and thrumming in his veins, and when he tugged at her hips, she slid into his lap, straddling his thighs. Her fingers dug into his shoulders for support as Steve’s hands gripped her waist to keep her close.

“If you want to stop--” he started.

Diana tilted her head, her lips curving and her gaze roamed over his features before locking with his. “Why would I want to stop?”

Steve nodded, absently and distractedly, completely at a loss for words. His gaze dipped. He reached to trace the of her pale pink bra with her fingertips, laze and silk clinging to her like second skin, not even trying to stop his blood from rushing south.

Without a word, Diana reached back and unclasped it, letting it slide down her arms and fall to the floor. His mouth dropped a little in a way that went just slightly below dignified. He didn’t care, having to focus all of his willpower on not touching her, yet. His gaze traveled slowly from the smooth expanse of her chest to the juts of her collarbones, up the column of her neck, past the bow of her lips and until it found the fire of her eyes once more.

Diana leaned forward until her forehead rested against his and Steve had no choice but to hold her gaze.

“I have wanted you for so long,” she whispered, her nails scratching through his hair.

“Diana.”

Her palm splayed over his chest, rising and falling with his breathing. She smiled, pressed a kiss to his cheekbone, his temple.

“I love you,” she murmured, marveling in the freedom of being able to say it whenever she pleased.

Steve reached for the band holding her hair in a tight ponytail and pulled it off, allowing the waterfall of it to cascade down her shoulders, soft as black silk. He combed his hand through it, pulling her to him. Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen with kisses, the heat radiating from her making it hard to think, and he hadn’t even done anything yet but kiss her. Steve tilted her chin to press his lips to her, loving the taste of her, the way her mouth felt languid against his, how she arched into him when he traced his hand up from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck.

He kissed the underside of her jaw, moving his mouth to the spot behind her ear. Smiled at the small gasp and a murmured curse that fell from her tongue when his hand traced the waistline on her panties. And then his explorations came to an abrupt halt when she reached for the button of his jeans. Steve sucked in a breath and caught her wrists before Diana had a chance to undo the zipper. If she touched him now—

He shifted her weight in his arms and turned them over, his palm anchored on the base of her spine, lowering her on the bed and effectively distracting them both long enough for him to find his bearings. If she touched him when he wasn’t ready he would probably - most definitely, surely - disintegrate. Except Diana was kissing him again, and he was more than eager to give her that. And so he did.

When he pulled away, breaking the kiss to look at her, Diana was dazed and more than a little desperate, her chest heaving with each ragged breath.

“Steve,” she mouthed soundlessly, a plea and command rolled into one.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, dipping his head to press a hot kiss to her neck, making her breath catch in her throat and shudder unsteadily out when his mouth moved down, marking a slow path along her clavicle and across her chest.

He didn’t even notice her hands giving his jeans another push to slide them down to his thighs. He smiled, pausing just long enough to discard them and his boxers – an afterthought that didn’t really matter at the moment. And then he leaned over once more to kiss a path between her breasts and down her sternum, pausing just below her navel to hook his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slide them down her legs in one swift motion.

When he looked up, he found Diana watching him, her eyes dark with want.

“God, I love you,” he breathed, allowing his gaze to travel along her body from the ankles up to the slightly parted lips.

He had wanted her before. He’d wanted her pretty much non-stop from the night on the boat when they left Themyscira nearly a hundred years ago, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember the last time he wanted her this badly. To the point of a dull ache in his solar plexus and tremor in his hands.

Steve bent forward, picking up from where they had left off a minute ago, tattooing a trail of kisses from her navel down, nuzzling into the silky skin between her hipbones.

“Steve,” she sighed, the sound of his voice scattering around them.

It died on her lips with a soft gasp when his mouth closed around her, her back arching, fingers gripping his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bunch the sheet with her other hand, her knuckles white and her breath nowhere to be found.

“Angel,” he murmured, into her skin.

He was slow and thorough, and he knew exactly what he was doing. It might not have been a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but Diana was a goddess, no less. Knowing how to coax the sounds that she was making out of her left Steve stupidly pleased with himself as he worked her up with deliberate dedication, stopping just short of pushing her over the edge until a curse in a language he didn’t understand fell from her mouth and her fingers gripped his hair in a soundless command.

Steve chuckled and pressed his lips to her just the right way. Her breath stuttered, morphing into a whimper, muscles shuddering, and he was rising above her, kissing whatever skin he could reach. There were words on her lips that he didn’t know, her skin slick with a sheen of sweat. He traced his tongue along her collar bone, teeth grazing gently against her throat. She smelled like sex and he was drunk on her, his own unreleased pleasure pulsing in his fingertips.

Barely coherent, she nuzzled sloppily into his cheek, kissing his jaw and pulling him down to her.

“Diana,” he groaned, one hand tangled in her hair.

“I want you,” she whispered almost soundlessly.

He swore, feeling her smile against his skin, her hands moving over him with impatience and urgency. She wrapped one of her legs around his hip, reeling him in – a demand that he couldn’t resist, not anymore. Steve shifted against her body, pressed a kiss to her temple. She gasped into his shoulder when he pushed inside of her, hot breath on his heated skin sending a shiver down his spine. I love you, he thought. I love you so fucking much.

His fingers flexed on Diana’s flesh, moving along her thigh as he kissed her throat, trying to focus on going slowly for fear of making this end too fast. Beneath him, he could still feel faint shudder of aftershocks shooting through her, her muscles spasming wonderfully around him. Steve weaved his fingers through hers and stretched her arms above her head, pressing them into the sheets and feeling her grasp tighten in agreement.

“Look at me,” he said, desperate to see her. “Diana… Look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and heavy-lidded, hungry in the way that he liked best. Her gaze swept over his features and dropped to his lips, and it was just about enough to end him if he’d only let it. She pulled one of her hands from his grip and curled her palm around his neck. Her mouth found his, her hips rocking slowly beneath him to push him into motion.

Like earlier, Steve took his time, building up the heat between them until it was nothing but a hot coil somewhere deep inside of him and then easing away, moving above her as he whispered breathless confessions into her skin, peppered with promises and the words of love until she was frantic and barely coherent and his own pleasure took over reason. He could feel her teeth grazing over his shoulder, nails digging in frenzy into the skin of his back as his pace picked up, the need to feel all of her so overwhelming it was unbearable.

He dreamed of that, dreamed of making her his again, the bliss of closeness shattered by the light of the morning and the emptiness of his bed, her ghost a constant presence that made him feel like he was losing his mind. But she was real now, her voice and her touch electrifying, and everything he had ever wanted to say to her pouring out of him like he had no control over those words.

And then her body constricted around him, tipping him into a bliss of momentary rapture, her arms catching him, breaking his fall, cradling him close, her name on his lips like a prayer.

Steve drifted back to awareness slowly to Diana’s hand stroking his hair, her lips on his temple and his breath falling on her collarbone.

“I love you,” she whispered when Steve managed to drag his gaze to hers, looking no less pleased with herself than he had earlier.

He smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I missed you,” he breathed.

Her hand closed around his and she pressed a kiss to his fingers. “I’m here.”

---

Afterwards, in the soft evening light filtering through the window, Diana couldn’t stop thinking of his haunted eyes, the vulnerability that he had allowed her to see earlier. Like it was something that was spilling through the cut-open wound.

For Steve, it was a no easy feat, and she knew it. The past couple of hours proved that they still remembered the language of their bodies, slipping easily into the familiar patterns and the smooth touch of their hands – all moves rehearsed and repeated but never lacking nonetheless. He knew where to put his hands to make her forget the world, knew how to kiss her to leave her breathless, how to touch her to turn her desire white-hot and thrumming in her veins. Diana loved that he knew her better than she knew herself, her body coming alive in his arms.

Yet, after all this time she couldn’t help but feel a twinge in her stomach at the thought that at the core, they were strangers now. And she itched to make the feeling go away. She wanted him back, wanted him to be completely and utterly hers again.

Right now, stretched under the sheets beside her, Steve was watching her from all of two inches away, her head resting on his pillow and their legs tangled together, sweet weight and warmth and yearned-for comfort. She studied him back, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, his weary look, the tenderness in his eyes that made her breath catch in her throat. The eyes so blue that Diana couldn’t help but feel like she was in them. No one ever looked at her the way Steve did. In all of her life, he was ever the only one.

She lifted her hand and carded it through his damp hair.

“I need a cut,” Steve whispered, smiling under her scrutiny.

Diana shook her head. “I like it.”

He ran his thumb along her jaw. His skin was a little calloused, rougher than hers, making her wish he would never stop touching her. “You okay?” He asked.

She nodded. Hesitated. And then craned her neck to press a kiss to his brow before resting their foreheads together, crowding his space. He didn’t seem to mind. “I forgot…” she murmured, feeling her eyes drop shut for fear of losing the sensation of this moment, “what it was like to be with you.”

“Must’ve not been very memorable,” he chuckled, a little amused, a little wary of her answer.

Her hand moved to rest on the back of his neck. “No, not that. I didn’t forget,” she said after a moment, searching for better words. “I stopped allowing myself to remember.”

“Diana…”

Her eyes opened slowly, “Because if I didn’t, I’d lose myself.”

Steve’s smile slipped, his expression growing pained. She watched his jaw work, his lips moving without a sound, struggling against the question.

“Will you be able to forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted and regretted saying it the second the words came out of her mouth as he went rigid beside her. From this close she could almost feel his pulse stutter.

“Do you… do you want me to leave?” Steve uttered, his voice low and resigned. “Because screw Waller,” he stroked a strand of her hair, but his hand was shaking and he drew it back. “If this is too much for you, I could--”

Diana brushed her fingers to his lips, silencing him, and then tilted her face up to kiss him. “No.” She shook her head and kissed him again, slowly and lazily, smiling when he responded without hesitation, his hand sliding around her waist to rest on the base of her spine.

She pulled away and lowered her fingers to trail the length of his clavicle. They needed to talk. She had questions still, things that she needed to know and answers that made sense. Everything that he had told her about his conversation with her mother was having trouble settling in her mind, so wild it seemed, and she had seen enough wild in her life to not be easily swayed. But right now his body was warm against her, his chest rising and falling steadily, and she was deliriously happy and sated and finally at peace. He loved her. And she loved him, and somehow everything else lost its importance.

They would talk, she knew that. Eventually, they would figure out how to make this work, but right now she didn’t want to think about that. All she wanted to do was trace the lines of his body as they basked in the lazy afterglow and promise him whatever he wanted so long as he swore to never leave her again.

“No,” Diana repeated, her eyes searching his, back irises darting between the blue ones. “How can I want you gone when I just got you back?” She smiled, but it dimmed almost instantly and his brows pulled together in response. “I just—I need time,” she breathed.

Steve nodded. “Yeah… yes, of course. Anything you want,” he promised quietly.

She brushed her fingertips down his cheek. “And I want you, always.” Another nod, and she felt her body relax. “I love you and I’m done losing you, Steve.”

A shadow that had settled over his face remained intact. She could practically hear his thoughts chasing one another, bouncing against his skull.

Steve drew back from her and rolled onto his back, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling. He tucked his arm behind his head and exhaled slowly. His lips pressed tightly together like he was trying to swallow the words wanting out, his profile a dark outline against the pale rectangle of the window behind which the shadows were deepening.

“You’re doing it again,” Diana whispered, moving close to him seeking his warmth. She kissed his shoulder.

Steve glanced at her. “Doing what?”

“Pulling away from me.”

He didn’t say anything. She could feel his unease with her skin, his fear lurking behind the façade. It was like all the words they’d said to one another, all whispers punctuated by kisses dissolved into nothing. He meant them, she knew he did, but he was also scared of them. She thought back to the time they had spent together, before. Before everything went up in flames. Thought of how careful he always was with his confessions, pouring his soul into every single one of them but wary of making promises he couldn’t keep.

She tried not to think of those that fell through the cracks of their relationship, ground into dust. Life, she had learned, was merciless like that, and promises were not unbreakable at all.

Diana propped up on her elbow and looked down at him even though his eyes never shifted to her, studying him in the dimming light. His chest was rising and falling steadily as he breathed, and two faint concerned lines creased the skin between his brows. Everything about him was so familiar that just looking at him was erasing the time and space between them.

“You’re not less, Steve,” she said. “And I’m not more. We’re just… us. That’s why we work, why we always have.”

“We haven’t,” he reminded her in a whoosh of breath, and for a moment she was overcome with fear of watching him slip between her fingers again.

“You know what I mean,” she shook her head. “We have both made mistakes. It doesn’t mean that we deserve to be punished for them for the rest of our lives.”

“But what if--”

“What if what?” She interjected. “What if the sun falls from the sky? What if I wake up tomorrow and decide that you’re not good enough for me after all?” He flinched. “You think I don’t understand? You once told me you didn’t want me anymore.”

A shuddered breath broke out of his chest.

“And you told me that you couldn’t forgive me, which, trust me, I get because I will never forgive myself, either.”

“I didn’t…” Diana started and faltered.

It wasn’t that but she wasn’t quite certain how to put into words that it might take her some time to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. That it wasn’t about him but about her as well. The art of healing one’s heartache was never taught in a fight. It was the minefield that she had to cross on her own. There was no armour in that war, no shields and no swords, and every step could chip away just enough of her heart for it to disappear for good before she knew it. She needed time, but in no way did that mean that she was willing to let him go.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “I…”

“I know,” he breathed, a small, humorless smile appearing on his face, the jagged edges of his voice slicing right thought her.

He knew.

He’d been there before.

“There is so little I can give you,” Steve spoke after a moment. “You don’t need me to protect you. You’re stronger than anyone I ever knew, in every sense of that word. And it’s not just my ego talking - and believe me, I have a rather inflated one - but facts. You’re…” He paused. “You’re a goddess, for heaven’s sake. You’re divine in every way I can think of, and I-- If leaving was the one thing I could do for you, how could I not--”

“It wasn’t,” she stopped him. “You say that having this… bond with you,” the words still sounded alien to her ears, “was a high price to pay. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. You think I wouldn’t have done it knowingly?” Her voice broke just enough for Steve to turn to her. “You think I wouldn’t have pulled you out of that plane if I could? You think I wouldn’t have shielded you if I saw that bomb coming?”

He glanced away from her and then back, seemingly unable to hold her gaze. “Do you feel it?”

She hesitated as if to have a better look inside of herself in search of something that she didn’t know was there a few hours ago. But what she found there was tenderness and relief and unspoken prayers to all gods she knew for bringing him back to her. All the things that had been there for so long that she had long forgotten what it was like to live without them.

“I feel... I feel scared because I don’t want you to be taken away from me, and it seems like that it’s all that’s been happening since I met you. I’m scared not because I don’t trust you, but because I don’t trust you not to break my heart again for you’re also the only one who can mend it.” Maybe it was good that he wasn’t really looking at her, after all. She wasn’t used to being this outspoken, either. The key to keeping said heart whole, she had learned, was not baring it for anyone. “It frightens me to feel this way, but I don’t know how to make it be otherwise.”

She put her palm on his chest, flat over where his heart was beating steadily.

“Diana…”

“I told you that I loved you. That I always will.” Her voice was soft, but his face contorted at her words nonetheless. Diana watched a storm of emotions sweep over his features. “Didn’t you believe me, Steve? Not once?”

“I believed that you believed it,” he ran a hand over his face. “You can’t know--”

She brushed her fingers to his chin and turned his face to her, catching his eyes and holding his gaze. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. He was not used to letting anyone see him so exposed, not even her because enough time had passed for the old habits to get rusty and what was once a given had a to be a choice again.

There were people in Diana’s life, people she cared about and who cared for her, but the loneliness that followed her across the past decades was all-consuming nonetheless. She didn’t know the whole story about him yet, the questions she didn’t yet know how to ask rolling on the tip of her tongue, but looking at him now she had a distinct suspicion that Steve had put a fair amount of effort into keeping whoever happened to pass through his days at arm’s length as well. She could feel it in the way he carried himself, in the tiny change of his expression when he thought no one was looking.

They were small things she’d seen before, but the time really put them into perspective. All those weeks when she was busy agonizing over him not loving her anymore, and it never crossed her mind that he was thinking the exact same thing. That she had left him behind a long time ago.

Her heart squeezed fiercely, tight with so much affection it almost hurt to breathe.

“How can I ever love someone else when I love you so much?” She whispered, her voice low and earnest as she tried to put into it everything that no words could convey.

Her question wedged itself between them as Steve stared at her. She hoped desperately that it was the right thing to say to smooth out the worry lines that creased his features. Her heart skipped a beat when a moment had passed, and then another. And then—

“C’mere.”

He reached for her and Diana didn’t hesitate, moving to him. She settled into the warmth of his body and brushed her lips to his skin above his collarbone before tucking her face into the hollow of his throat. Steve trapped his arms around her, holding her close. She could hear his heartbeat reverberate into her, could feel his lips press to her hair, and she squeezed her eyes, wanting to never stop feeling any of this.

“I thought… I hoped that you’d moved on,” Steve said a while later. “You deserved love, Diana. You deserved happiness.”

“I tried,” she admitted after a moment. “I have never stopped waiting for you, but I stopped believing that you’d come back. Not after a while.” Diana’s hand twitched a little on his skin. She drew her hand back, feeling his fingers comb through her hair. She kissed the spot right beneath his collarbone. “I tried,” she repeated in a whisper. “But no one made me feel the way you did… the way you do.”

Her words were simple, her soul bare.

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathed.

“Don’t be,” she said, lifting her head to look at him.

Never wanted to stop looking at him, either.

His lips twitched again, and this time there was a familiar spark in his eyes, the one that made her chest constrict and her blood turn into molten lava. She felt his fingers strum along her spine. “No, I’m sorry for being…” Steve sighed, “glad, I guess, that it never worked out. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here with me.”

Diana tilted her head, allowing her lips to curve as well. “Don’t be.” She studied him for a long moment. “Do you remember Veld?”

Vividly, Steve thought. There were a lot of things that he’d forgotten since then – some through the passage of time, others through effort of not wanting to keep carrying the weight of them. But that night and her mouth on his and her body pressed beneath him was bright as ever in his mind, his own beacon of hope. The beginning of life he never knew he could ever imagine.

He nodded, “Yes.”

She brushed her hand through his hair, her expression wondrous and tender. “You’ve made me yours that night, Steve,” she whispered. “I have never belonged to anyone else since.”

“Not even--” He started and cut off. He cleared his throat.

“Not even when I was with someone else, no,” Diana said.

He rose up on his elbow, capturing her mouth with his. Smiled when she hummed her approval in the back of her throat and kissed him back.

“Are you tired?” She asked against his lips, her voice raspy and wonderfully breathless.

Steve cocked an eyebrow at her. He bumped his nose against hers and kissed her once more. “No.”

“Good.” Diana moved to toss her leg over his hips, allowing him to pull her on top of him, his fingers tunnelling through hair and tugging her closer. “We have some catching up to do.”

To be continued....

#wonder woman #wondertrev #diana prince #steve trevor #wondertrevnet #a road paved in gold #this chapter nearly killed me #but it was also fun

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ellana-ravenwood · 7 years

Text

Death, Amnesia and 4 coffees Please - Batmom x Batfam

Just a random idea I got while walking hope from work. Hope you’ll like it, as usual, feedbacks are very welcomed.

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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3 months.

3 months already since she died...

Jason, just like Alfred, his brothers, and his father just couldn't get over it.

He just couldn’t move on with his life without his mother. Without the woman that always stood by him no matter what, even in the worst of moments.

He was so damn angry at himself that he wasn’t able to save you ! All of them were, the guilt eating them more and more every day...Even though they all knew things went too fast.

You weren't the only one that died that day...Thousands lost their life in the almost total destruction of the neighborhood you were born in : The Narrows.

It was the poorest in Gotham, and you were helping out a charity there when the Batman failed big time, for the first time in his career.

Ha hadn’t been able to solve the Riddler’s riddle. And for the first time in his life, Edward Nigma was finally able to fulfill one of his evil plans..Which was the destruction of every single neighborhood of Gotham, one for each riddle the Dark Knight wouldn’t be able to solve.

And of course, the only one he didn’t find, was the one associated with the only place in Gotham you were in...You, and thousands of other people died. And it was all Batman’s fault. No matter that he was able to save the rest of the inhabitants, the blood of those people were on his hands...

Your blood was on his hands. And, just like Alfred and his sons, he just couldn’t get over your death. They all felt so guilty and angry at themselves that they couldn’t save you...you were always there for them, always by their side, having their back and...they let you down.

Of course they send you messages telling you to leave Gotham but..You wouldn’t. You stayed because you wanted to help people. According to witnesses, to people who were survivors of the blast, who barely escaped it...the last time they all so you, you were trying to get some kids to safety.

But no matter how guilty they felt, how devastated they were, it wouldn’t change anything. You were gone. Forever. And once again, Jason Todd found himself wandering the street of Gotham aimlessly, trying to run away from his dark thoughts, trying to grieve you, even though he knew it was actually impossible to ever move from you.

Staying at the Manor with his brothers and father was...unbearable.

Alfred kept cleaning the house over and over again, never taking a break, and worst of all...avoiding everything you touched last. Your half finished cup of tea in the library. The books you left open. Your dinner plate still in the sink. Some of your shoes thrown haphazardly in the living room. Your towels in the bathroom. Your jewelry on the kitchen counter, that you left there because you didn't want to wear anything that’d make people from the Narrows feel uncomfortable around you. Your favorite blanket, still on the floor where you left it, as you realized you were going to be late to the charity event and napping in the couch was now over...Alfred cleaned everything, but avoided touching any of your stuffs. And it was unbearable.

Dick...Oh it was one of the worst. Jason was used to be the broody and overly-cynical one. Him and his father competed constantly about which one was the broodiest and Dick would just laugh at them and make silly jokes. Jason used to be like that too, making jokes and even able to make the Batman crack a smile...but ever since he came back to life, he lost that. He became darker and meaner. And Dick was kind of his solace, with his cheerful persona and positive attitude. The oldest Wayne boys always been everyone’s beacon of light in the darkest of moments. But your death...your death turned him into a zombie that spend his days looking out of a window, or staring at old pictures of you and him, stuck in memories of you, unable to see his own light...And it was unbearable.

The only person that could really convince Tim to sleep, to not drink too much coffee, to take care of himself and to socialize was you. A word from you and he’d realize that yes, this was too much and he needed to chill, to go see his friends, to relax...But without you ? Alfred tried, oh he really did try but...Tim wouldn’t listen. You really were the only one to convince him, and he would forever associate all the good things he experienced in life (time with his friends and family, relaxed moment in front of the TV, good nights of sleep etc etc...), with you. Without you ? He just couldn’t...And seeing his little brother destroy himself like so was unbearable to Jason.

Damian didn’t utter a word since your death. Not even a sound. Him who usually always talked too damn much, and was just so annoying...Nothing. He didn’t brag about anything, he didn’t try to be better than anyone else anymore. He was just...apathetic. He wouldn’t say anything, not even to Dick. He wouldn’t even look at them in the eyes. He spends most of his time in front of your tomb, where he did talk to you. But to others ? No. It’s like he had made a vow of silence and this ? It was unbearable.

Bruce spend all his time working to avoid thinking about your absence but...Whenever he thought he was alone, whenever he came back to your shared bedroom, half-expecting still to find you there...They could all hear him cry. They could hear him mourn you, inconsolable. And the thought of his father, that he always viewed as invincible, destroyed by you not being there anymore was unbearable. Bruce wasn’t fine, inconsolable. He would forever be inconsolable, he lost the love of his life 3 months ago...

3 months...It had already been 3 months since They all lost their beloved mother, wife, surrogate daughter and...Jason just couldn’t bear to stay at home, with his family that constantly reminded him of your death.

And so as every day since the day you were taken from them...he went for a walk in Gotham’s street, trying to run away from his memories of you and...no. It couldn’t be.

His brain was playing some mean tricks on him. It wasn’t her. Just someone that looked a lot like her.

You were dead. This couldn’t be you standing in that coffee shop, filling people’s cup...it couldn’t be you...

Without even thinking about it, he enters the small coffee shop and go sit in a booth, staring at you the entire time. You don’t notice him, focused on your work, trying not to spill their drinks on people...And it can’t be you. It’s impossible. You’re dead.

But when your clumsiness do spill some coffee on someone, and you say :

-Oh my god I’m so sorry it’s my first day and I keep doing stupid things I’m sorry !

It’s your voice. He would recognize it anywhere. It’s your voice...

It is you.

But Jason resist the urge to jump on his feet and hug you because...Visibly, something is wrong. Why didn’t you talk to him ? Maybe you didn’t notice him yet ? And...why are you here ? Have you been here those past three months ? Why didn’t you come home...?

The answers come before Jason can really ponder anything, and his suspicions are confirmed : you’re amnesiac.

The man you spilled coffee on says :

-Oh it’s alright darling, I know first days are difficult and...I also know what happened to you. Robert told us. We’re regular.

-Oh...oh thank you very much sir.

-It’s all good, I hope you’re recovering well ?

-Yes I am thank you.

-You still...you still don’t remember anything ?

-Hum...No...NO I don’t.

-Oh well it’ll come back to ya !

-I surely hope so...

Jason freezes. Yes. Amnesiac. You don’t remember any of them. Listening in on the conversation, he understands that that “Robert” is the owner of the coffee shop and is the one that found you, half-dead, near the border of the Narrows. You were one of those people that miraculously survived, and apparently, in the process, even saved dozens of kids. They’re the one that called for help...You stayed almost three months in the hospital, and finally got out, and “Robert” gave you a job.

As you come toward his booth, the son you have no memory of freaks out. He can’t act as if he doesn’t know you, he can’t resist taking you in his arms and...he gotta get out of here.

He has to go back to the manor and talk to his family. They have to know you’re still alive ! And he can’t face you right now...As you approach him, with a smile that haunted him those past three months, he stands up hurriedly and runs out of the coffee shop, under your very confused gaze.

Who was that crazy boy ? He kinda seemed familiar...

************

He finds Damian first, as he finally arrives to the Manor. He doesn't know why he ran there, why he didn’t take a car or whatever...too excited probably.

He finds Damian where your tomb his...an empty tomb. When Jason arrives the boy stops talking about whatever he was telling “you” and...For the first time in three months, Damian has feelings going through his face.

Curiosity is the biggest of them all. Because why is his brother so out of breath and so...happy ? He quickly learns the reason, and both your sons fall in each other’s embrace before running excitedly to the Manor.

They burst into the living room, where Tim is on his computer, earphones plugged in, and Alfred cleans once more, avoiding your stuffs.

Dick is looking at them. He saw them, as he was looking out the window. He saw them hugging and smiling as they ran back to the house. And he was intrigued.

It’s all a blur at first, Damian and Jason talking at the same times. Then suspicion installs itself : “it’s not funny guys...” until he realizes, around the same time Alfred realizes that...They’re not lying. They’re not joking. They’re dead serious and you’re...Alive.

And happiness is all they feel. Relief. And they’re now all rushing towards the room you used to share with Bruce, the room you’ll share again with him !

************

It’s as if life is injected in him again. Colors come back to his face, his heart beats once again, he stands up straight, and strong on his feet, not weak as he was those past three months and...yes.

The news of you being alive brings life back in Bruce Wayne again.

When they arrived in his bedroom, they found him curled up in bed, clutching one of your gown close to him, to smell you and...he barely registered their presence, even when as they almost destroyed his door when they came in all at once. But when he heard your name, his attention was on them.

And when he understood what was happening, the chance life was giving him...His smile made all of their hearts skip a beat. Bruce was smiling again...

But when he collapses on the floor, when he faints, the light heart his sons had fills with worries...until they realize he’s fine. The emotions he felt all at once at the news of your survival was just too much.

************

Alfred, as usual, was the voice of reason.

They wanted to rush to the coffee shop to talk to you, to hug and kiss you but...The butler pointed out that it was probably a bad idea.

You didn’t remember a thing of your past life. You would either freak out, be traumatized by all this, or call the police on their crazy ass...

And he’s right. Of course he is, as you said more than once : “Alfred is always right, even when he’s wrong”. They decide to take the night to try and recollect themselves. To calm down. And they’ll go to the coffee shop the next day.

That night, none of them can sleep.

Alfred’s old heart is so close from a heart attack, as he just feels so happy. You, (Y/N) Wayne, the one he came to call “my daughter”, are alive. You’re still of this world. You don’t remember yes but...There’s hope. And in those past three months, all hope was gone so...Yes. Alfred Pennyworth is just beyond happy.

Dick laughed all night, giggling to himself like an idiot, remembering all the good times he had with you, from the moment he first step foot in the intimidating Wayne Manor, to your “death”. All those times you comforted him, hugged him, made stupid jokes that he was the only one to laugh at. Remembering all your silliness made him chuckle like a crazy person all night, laying in his bed.

Tim is actually the only one that slept. You were alive, he had no reason to destroy himself anymore, and when he’d see you again tomorrow, he wanted to be fully conscious of what was going to happen. So he slept, of an uninterrupted and well deserved sleep.

Damian sung. He was singing in Arabian and it just sounded like the most wonderful and cheerful song ever. All of them heard him (hell it even lulled Tim to sleep) and din’t tell him anything because...oh they never thought they’d ever say that but : damn they missed the sound of that boy’s voice.

Jason finally stayed at home. For the first time in three months the place was bearable again. He stayed at home and smiled all night.

Bruce...Oh Bruce kept glancing at where you’d usually sleep, his heart overwhelmed by the fact that you might come back to him, that he’ll feel your body under his again, that he’ll be able to caress and kiss your skin and...He just wanted you next to him again. Falling asleep without you was nearly impossible...He kept glancing at where you’d usually sleep, heart singing at the mere thought of you being back at his side.

************

Alfred was right. This night of thinking was well needed.

When Bruce put on some clothes, finally shaved and even put a bit of cologne on him, he was still pondering what that night spurred into his mind.

And when he explains his point of view to his sons, at breakfast, they agree.

Yes. Yes it is the best thing to do.

They will go to the coffee shop today, and observe your life. See if you’re happy like that. See how things go for you. Because, and as much as it breaks their heart...If you’re genuinely happy, they won’t try to help you regain your memory. They won’t try to get you back.

They all came to the same conclusion. A life without them would be safer for you and, if you’re happy without them, then you deserve to have a normal life. A life where you wouldn’t be constantly worried by them, where you wouldn’t have to fix them, both emotionally and physically.

A life where you wouldn’t have to spend nights awake, waiting for their returns patiently and full of worries..A life where they wouldn’t be asses to you, and where you wouldn’t have to constantly cheer them up, support them etc etc...

A life where they wouldn't be your crutches anymore.

They know it’s the right thing to do. And before going to the coffee shop,they’re promising each others that...if you’re happy, they’ll leave you be.

The thought of you safe and sound, alive, was enough. And if your happiness meant they wouldn’t see you anymore...or rather, they wouldn’t be your sons, your husband or surrogate father anymore. Then so be it.

You were the most important thing in their lives, and they just couldn’t ruin yours for selfish reasons.

They made a promise, and they would keep it.

If you were happy...Then they’d be out of your life for good.

************

It’s extremely weird.

To see you going around, being a waitress, and not being able to talk or touch you.

Bruce finds the latter part especially difficult. He’s so used to have you close to him whenever you’re both in the same room, so used to disgust his sons whenever you and him are together...

It has been decided that they’d just come to observe your life, and it’s just too weird.

When you came over to take their order, Damian almost called you “mom”, but caught himself last minute : “I’d have a mint tea please mo...am. M’am”. And the smile you gave him hurt his heart, he hoped to god that you were unhappy right now, because he needed you.

He knew it was selfish, but he needed you in his life. His mom.

************

Over the week, they came back and basically stalked you and...to their great pain, you seemed happy. You had a cute apartment, you lived decently, you had new friends you were going out with (it wasn’t usually your thing, going out...Oh but if they really took more noticed, if they weren’t so saddened that you seemed happy, they’d realize that whenever you were going out, there was always a moment where they could read on your face “what am I doing there ? I don’t even like going out”...they would have realized that it still wasn’t your thing, but you still went out in hope to find yourself. Maybe you used to go out a lot ? ...). You seemed happy...

You talk to them every day, and once again, blinded by their want for you to come back they fail to notice that...you stay with them more than with any other clients.

Bruce doesn’t see the glances you give him whenever he’s around and damn he’s the most handsome man you ever met...and sweet too. The way he treats his sons is just too cute...You wished you had a family like that.

At this thought, you almost broke down...What if you did have a family ? You might never know...Did they think you were dead ? Or were they dead in the Narrows incident ? You might never know...

Bruce had to resist the urge to stand up and go comfort you when he saw tears welling up in your eyes, and when you left for the back of the coffee shop...He did stand up but...There was a guys there, holding you in his arms just like Bruce used to, comforting you.

Robert, he assumed. The man who saved you...

************

Bruce is pretty sure he heard his heart crack as he witnesses that “Robert”, one day as they all come yet again to the coffee shop, kissing you. And...you kiss back ?

Yes. You’re kissing back. And Bruce leaves, heart broken, followed by very worried boys, before he can see you pull away. Pushing Robert away. Because...something wasn’t right.

And it’s so frustrating. It’s so frustrating to feel like a memory is there, right there but...you just can’t remember it ! It doesn’t want to come but the one thing you’re sure of is...Kissing Robert is wrong.

Which makes you feel like...were there someone else before him ? Someone important to you ? You’re sure that, yes. There was. And you can almost see him but...he evades you every time. You’re sure it’s not Robert though and...oh but that man is so sweet.

He understands. And you feel so guilty because he saved your life, gave you a job and took care of you when no one would but..You can’t help but think that’s not your life. You’re not made to be with a “Robert”, with a coffee shop owner. You’re not made to go out with friends...You’re not made for this life.

But your real life, the one you don’t remember...it seems like it doesn’t want to be remembered. And...You were pretty sure you saw that handsome single father coming in, where was he ? Did he already leave ? Too bad, seeing him always cheered you up...

************

You were happy.

That’s what they gathered from their observation of you, after two weeks.

You were happy, and they had to let you go.

You even had a boyfriend and..They had to admit your new life just seemed safer. And...you were happy. Genuinely happy.

All of those doubts you felt about the life you were living right now, how you pushed away Robert and all...they didn’t notice this.

For them. You were happy. And they made a promise...They’d leave you alone.

But...They couldn’t let you go just like that. They decided to come see you one last time at the coffee shop. To say goodbye. Only, they wouldn’t really be able to say goodbye...

************

-Oh hey you guys ! I thought I saw you yesterday but when I turned around you were gone !

Yes. They were gone. Because you were kissing your boyfriend, and Bruce couldn’t handle this...shoving the thought aside, trying to ignore it as best he could as he would do with everything making him sad, he smiles to you and says :

-Yes we were here, but we had an emergency and had to go home.

This was the perfect occasion...Yes, the perfect one ! The one to finally ask what you’d been wondering since you first saw him :

-An emergency with your wife ?

It makes him flinch, and you immediately regret it. This was too forward, and the face he makes is so...sad ? Pained ? And his boys are looking down and...oh god...

-My wife she...hum...She’s gone. Unfortunately not with us anymore.

Yes. You messed up again. You couldn’t help but notice that, even though you didn’t remember a thing,you were sure that this kind of situation happened to you often. You felt like you were the kind of person to speak her mind and it got you in troubles more than once...You apologize, and Bruce waves it off. It’s alright.

You still feel guilty. Even more so because now that you know he’s a widower, you feel like you have no chance with him. It’s the kind of instances where he’ll never forget her and you’ll never be good enough to be like her...You sigh in your mind, and fake smile back to him.

You still find him extremely attractive though. Both physically and mentally, which is silly because you barely know him...you don’t even know his name ! But...there’s something about him that attracts you and you totally have a thing for older men with issues...You totally have a thing for older men with issues ? This came to your head as an ultimate truth.

Hey. HEY ! It’s a memory ! A remnant of your past ! Yes, you always had a thing for older men with issues ! You’re so excited to finally remember something that you don’t even hear the question one of the boy ask.

It’s the youngest, and he asks you, full of hope (why full of hope ?) if you remember anything about your past life.

You smile weakly at him and says :

-I almost remember things. I have flashes, but I just can’t see anyone’s faces and things are blurry. I remember...small stuffs. Like, a day playing in the snow with a boy. But I don’t know if it’s a memory of my childhood, if it’s my neighbor, my nephew my...my son. I don’t know. All I remember is that we fight in the snow, and that he calls me “Ummi”...I don’t even know if that’s my real name or whatever !

You don’t notice the youngest boy stiffening. It’s...it’s a memory with him ! Damian’s heart beats faster...You keep going on and...you talk about things that happened with each of them ! You talk about things that happened, but you don’t quite remember !

But they don’t expect much from it. They promised they would leave you alone because you were happy, they promised...It doesn’t matter if you almost remember them, because you just won’t fully remember them. It hurt, but it’s better like that. They have to let you go.

They don’t notice the sudden nostalgia and sadness in your eyes, and because you don’t know them much (or so you think), you don’t dare telling them how you wished you remember your past life because you feel so out of place in this one.

************

You talk for a long time with them, but the time to close the shop arrives.

Robert comes, and Bruce stiffens.

He knows it’s not that man’s fault but...oh he wants to punch him. But he cannot. Because it is not his fault, and because you love him now but...is that another woman at his arm ? How dare he cheat on you already !

You tell “Robert” a “see you later” and he leaves with that woman and Bruce turns to you, unable to stop his question :

-Isn’t he your boyfriend ?

-Who ? Robert ? Oh no. We tried but it...it just didn’t feel right.

-...Feel right ?

-Yes I...I mean...it’s silly I barely know you but...I just feel like there’s someone else somewhere, and I just...Couldn’t.

-It’s not silly, it’s...kinda cute.

-Oh but you’re the cute one haha, and I don’t even know your name ! I mean, you don’t have to tell me of course.

He smiles at you and his smile is just the most beautiful you’ve seen and...something in your head starts to tick ?

-My name isn’t really important, what counts is what is in my heart.

Those words...it’s as if you heard them before. He misinterpret your face, thinking you must think he’s an idiot while you’re just confused cause you once again almost remember something, and he adds :

-My wife used to always say that. You see, I’m...I’m somewhat famous in town and, she used to say it didn’t matter. That my name...

-...Wasn’t you. Your name isn’t you. What is you is what’s in your heart, what you’re doing. Your name doesn’t define you, your actions do...

You finish, and Bruce’s heart stop. His sons’ too. Did you...did you...

-I’m so sorry. I feel like I heard this before haha, probably in a TV show or something !

No. You didn’t remember. It was just...A passing thought. Bruce smile sadly, and his sadness make you want to irrational comfort him. You don’t know the guy for god’s sake, why do you feel so connected to him ?!

-It’s ok don’t worry. Anyway we should get going, you’re about to close.

-Hum...yes, yes. Right. See you tomorrow ?

-No. No we’re not coming back we’re..hum, moving. Away.

-Oh...

The disappointment in your voice goes straight to Bruce’s heart, but he knows he can’t do anything about it. It wouldn’t be right to keep interfering in this good life you have. In your second chance at living normally...

-Well, I hope everything will be alright for you !

-You too hum...I still don’t know your name but, since it’s not important. Just, you too. Take care.

-Oh don’t worry, I always have a plan ready for every scenario, I’ll take care !

He smiles once more at you and...

-Wait...Someone...Someone I knew used to say that all the time...Someone I...Someone I think I loved ? Sometime that was dear to my heart...someone...someone...

They hold their breath. Could it be that ? Your face snaps back up and you delve your (Y/C) eyes in Bruce’s piercing blue ones and... :

- Oh my god. Bruce ?

Yes. Yes it’s him. And it’s you. And...Everything surge to you all of a sudden and you feel overwhelmed and...you fall in his arms. And he catches you. Like he caught you a thousand times. You remember. You remember him. And them. Your boys. Your sweet boys. Your hand find theirs and...

-My boys...my lovely babies...And Bruce...My Broosh...my heart...

-My love.

-Mom.

FIN.

_________________

THIS IS SO BAD AND MESSY !! I feel it doesn’t make sense ? uh...Lately, I’ve been feeling like everything I write is bad, and yet I still post things and...I’m just sorry for all the self-doubts. I know it’s annoying. But like, why everything I write is so terrible ? Thanks for all your support though <3 (walking paradox once again). Written in twenty minutes and I probably should have taken more time to...

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hysterialevi · 7 years

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In the Smoke pt. 11 (Cobblebats)

(Sorry for the late update. I’ve been pretty busy recently, and I just got some time to write more today. Hope you enjoy!)

From Thomas’ POV

GOTHAM GENERAL HOSPITAL

I sat beside Bruce’s bed as he slept away the hours, unable to tear my eyes off the faint, blue veins that now traveled along his arm, and the raging red bruises on his knuckles. I didn’t know how the hell Penguin managed to obtain the drug, or who dosed Bruce with it, but I had seen enough of the vile chemical to know the damage it was capable of causing. Just one drop was enough to make a person discard all their moral filters, and the way Bruce attacked Hill at the debate was proof of that.

I dragged a hand down my face at the thought, memories from the previous night still haunting me. By the time the storm ended, and the GCPD was done dealing with Penguin’s men, I could barely recognize my own son--not to mention Hamilton. There wasn’t one spot on the man’s face that had been left unharmed, and he looked as if an elephant had just trampled on his head. All of us were certain that he wouldn’t survive the assault, but to our surprise, he was still breathing thus far. Though, like Bruce, he had yet to regain consciousness.

Scooting closer to the bed, I gently slid my fingers through Bruce’s hair in a comforting manner, a wave of regret washing through me. What kind of father was I, to allow my son to be taken hostage like that? He was the one person in the world who I still cared for, and I failed miserably to protect him. Meanwhile, people like Penguin were still running free out there, totally unscathed, and their victims paid the price.

Letting out a sigh, I retracted my hand and sauntered over to the window, the ominous asylum glaring back at me from the distance. Perhaps this was karma, I thought, for drugging all those people and committing them to Arkham so many years ago. Maybe it was my turn to suffer the consequences. For all I knew, Bruce could become a patient himself soon, and I’d be left all alone, just like Oswald was as a child.

Though, now that Bruce was drugged, it was no longer a “maybe” situation. His eventual descent into madness was inevitable, and there was no cure that I knew of that could stop the process. More severe symptoms were sure to arise in the future, but if I was lucky, it’d be a while before he lost his mind entirely, and I’d still have some time left with my son.

Just then, I heard a weak voice call out my name, barely able to overpower the sharp beeps of the heart monitor.

“...Dad...?”

Turning around, I saw Bruce peering at me with low-lidded eyes, the rest of his body motionless in the bed. I returned to where I sat before and pulled my chair closer towards him, a small sense of relief clearing out the stress in me.

“Hey, son,” I patted his hand. “How’re you feeling?”

Bruce ignored the question and simply gazed around the room as if he were looking for something, slightly sitting up.

“...where’s Hill?” He questioned. I frowned a little due to worry.

“He’s in the hospital too,” I answered. “He’s in critical condition at the moment, and so far, he’s remained unconscious. They’re not sure if he’s going to make it.”

Bruce didn’t seem to bothered by the news.

“Good.”

I paused for a second at the blunt response, staring at him with shock.

“...what?”

The dazed expression on his face transformed into one of anger, and he avoided eye contact with me.

“...I’m not a little boy anymore, Dad. I know that Hill was involved with mom’s murder...and I know you’re still working with him.”

I was speechless in response. How did he know this? How did he find out? Did Penguin tell him?

Wait. Alfred mentioned somebody going through my stuff before--taking all my files related to Arkham Asylum, Wayne Enterprises, and even opening the Batcave. Maybe the culprit never really was Penguin like I suspected...and maybe they were actually sitting right in front of me.

“Why are you helping that...murderer?” Bruce asked, halting my train of thought. “He killed mom. Your wife. He doesn’t deserve our help. He deserves to be behind bars with all the other people he had imprisoned.”

I furrowed my brow. “And how do you even know what he did in the first place?”

Bruce’s eyes traveled to his red knuckles. “I could tell you were all hiding something from me, and no one was willing to answer my questions...so I looked for them myself. The things I found...”

He threw a sharp glare at me. “How long have you been lying to me, Dad? Why keep me in the dark like this?”

I gave him a stern look. “If you know everything about Hill’s crimes, then you know that your mother was killed because she had been exposed to too much. I kept these things secret from you to avoid a repeat of that tragic night. The last thing I want is for my son to become another plaque in that damned alleyway.”

Bruce wasn’t convinced. “That still wouldn’t stop you from helping Hill. Clearly, politics matter more to you than family.”

I had to admit, it stung like hell to hear him say that. Though, not even a second later, and the anger on Bruce’s face vanished, only to be replaced with guilt.

“...wait...what am I saying?” He whispered. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean to--” He stared at me in panic. “What’s happening to me? I think I need...I think I need to leave.”

He began getting out of the bed, completely disregarding my presence.

“Bruce, wait,” I called, rising from my chair as he stood up, “where are you going?” He loosely reached for the doorknob, his limbs still a little wobbly.

“I need to see him.” He said. He didn’t elaborate anymore than that.

“What?” I questioned. “See who? Bruce, what’s going on? You need to rest.”

“...no time. I have to...I have to go. Right now.” Bruce was starting to sound paranoid. Another symptom of the drug.

“Bruce,” I stepped in front of him, “you can’t leave in your condition--”

Before I could even finish my sentence, he had already pushed past me and escaped the room, wandering around the hospital in search of whomever “him” was while I stayed behind, trying to process what just happened. It had only been a few minutes since Bruce woke up, and already, he was a wreck of emotions, jumping from one to the other--almost literally. I knew the drug was powerful, but I was surprised to see that such a small dose could take action this quickly. I could only imagine what Harvey was about to go through.

I decided to let the boy go and allow the doctors to deal with him for now. Things were more than heated between the two of us at the moment, and I wanted them to cool down before confronting Bruce again. Anger wasn’t going to get us anywhere--anywhere good, at least--and we had plenty to discuss. Though, that discussion could wait for another time. Right now, I had to work on tracking down Penguin, and putting an end to his operations before Gotham suffered any further. He was clearly out for blood, and after that debate, I wasn’t willing to see anymore people drugged. I only hoped that he had some sort of cure in his possession that I could possibly steal. Otherwise, I feared I may have just seen the last of my son. Bruce’s mental state was deteriorating--fast--and I didn’t have long until he would be sharing Esther’s fate.

From Bruce’s POV

CHILDREN OF ARKHAM HQ

Racing for Oz’s office, I sped past all the other sections of headquarters and slithered my way through groups of people, making a beeline straight for my friend’s workplace. A lot of shit went down at that debate that I didn’t know would happen, and I intended to get an explanation out of Oz. What was it with people and hiding things from me? Why did everyone feel the need to shelter me like some sort of infant? Honestly, it was almost embarrassing how little I knew about the whole situation, and how long it took for me to learn the rest.

Reaching his office, I stood outside the closed door, practically rehearsing what I was going to say to Oz. For whatever reason, I always had so much difficulty when it came to speaking with him--probably because of my shameless attraction to the man--and my mind always seemed to go blank whenever he was around. Why did I have to be like this?

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door’s surface, almost immediately receiving a response.

“Who is it?” Oz questioned, sounding a bit worn out.

“It’s Bruce. I wanna talk.”

After a few seconds of waiting, the door finally swung open with a creak, revealing a--

Holy hell.

Standing in front of me in the entrance was a shirtless, slightly sweaty Oz, and his bare, toned chest steadily moved in sync with his heavy breathing. Behind him, I could see a still-swinging punching bag dangling from the ceiling, and there were boxing bandages wrapped around Oz’s hands.

All the anger I felt earlier suddenly disappeared, and at the moment, all I was concerned about was trying to hide the blatant blush painting my face. Why did he have to be working out now? Out of all times?

“Like what you see, huh?” Oz teased. I blinked awkwardly and squirmed a little before throwing my hands in the air.

“You know what? Fuck it. Yeah. I do like what I see. Can we talk now?”

Oz raised his brow at the reply. “Well, well, I wasn’t expecting that. What’s got you so on-edge?”

I gaped at him with an “are you kidding me” look.

“You drugged my best friend without telling me you were going to, and then proceeded to smash a spotlight onto his head after I was knocked out. What the hell do you mean ‘what’s got me so on-edge? Harvey’s missing half of his goddamned face, and I’ve just been pumped with your own drug--that’s what’s got me on-edge.”

Oz held a hand up in defense. “Whoa, mate, we can talk ‘bout this--just slow down a bit.”

I crossed my arms and let out a breath, lowering my head. “...sorry. My emotions have been all over the place ever since I woke up. Not too long ago, I was yelling at my dad, then I yelled at the doctors, and now I’m yelling at you. I just don’t know what to do. I’m a paranoid mess because of this drug. There wouldn’t happen to be a cure, would there?”

Oz shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Though, considering how little you were drugged with, I wouldn’t worry too much about it yet. Besides,” he winked, “I like your crazy side a lot more.”

Normally, a compliment like that would’ve made me melt on the spot, but something more serious wouldn’t stop gnawing at the back of my mind.

“...is this real?” I asked him. Oz leaned against the door frame.

“Is what real?”

I gestured to him. “You. Flirting back with me. Is it real? Or are you just playing around? It’s fine if you are. I just need to know.”

Oz stared down at the floor, fixing his hair when a strand fell over his eyes.

“Well, I was in the beginning, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fancy you a bit. I dunno where you get the looks from,” he smirked at me, “but you’ve certainly caught my eye once or twice.”

I stood there, unsure of how to respond. I honestly didn’t think he’d answer “yes.” What the hell was I supposed to say now?

“R-really?” I clumsily blurted out, flustered. My heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. “You...you like me?”

“Yeah. I’d say so.”

I hesitated. “...but, why?”

Oz chuckled. “Maybe this’ll make it clearer?”

Grabbing my collar, Oz stepped closer and suddenly smashed our lips together, locking me in place as he wrapped his arms entirely around me. For a while, I remained frozen in his grasp, open-eyed and bewildered by the wild turn of events as I awkwardly returned the kiss, sliding a hand down the side of his arm.

What was even going on today? One minute, I was lying in a hospital bed, arguing with my father and barely able to form coherent sentences--and the next--I was starting a new relationship with the man who was technically my boss. Was this all just a dream? Was the drug playing tricks on my mind, or was this actually happening? Well, whatever the case was, I didn’t want it to end.

“Oz,” I mumbled lazily against his mouth, “we’re in the middle of the hallway.”

He glanced at both sides without much thought before pulling me even closer, pushing me against a wall.

“...is that a problem?” He asked.

I broke the kiss for a second. “...what if someone sees us?”

Oz laughed, and pressed his forehead against mine, moving his hands down to my hips as he looked me directly in the eye with a fierce gaze, grinning.

“Let them.”

#cobblebats #telltale batman #bruce wayne #oswald cobblepot #harvey dent #fanfic #story

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iatethepomegranate · 7 years

Text

Homecoming Chapter 20

@iontorch @prettybeefballs @darkmagicianknight

(GUESS WHO’S BAAAACK)

The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)

Tag, in chronological order

Shiny New Masterlist of the entire fic series (including AO3 link because I don’t trust tumblr to behave regarding external links anymore)

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Mature

Length: 5k (this chapter)

Summary: It's been a rough ride. As everyone slows down in the wake of the past week, dark feelings rise to the surface.

Notes: TRIGGER WARNINGS: Loved ones in medical danger & requiring hospital treatment, not knowing if the loved one is going to survive.

I have included specifics on the medical danger and a summary of that scene in the endnote of my AO3 post on this chapter. You can find the AO3 link to the full fic in my masterlist. I don’t trust tumblr to NOT shove me out of the DickTiger tag if I post external links again.

The scene in question is the final one, when Tiger, Tim and Dick go to the Batcave.

Chapter 20

Helena took point for the journey to the rendezvous point with Jason watching for attacks from the rear. Tiger was sending updates to Batman, who had successfully taken over the facility. The rest of the family had dispersed throughout the building, collecting prisoners now that the immediate danger had passed. No one had come to an agreement about what to do about them yet.

Dick leaned heavily on Tiger while Gloria stuck to the wall, unsteady but moving. Walking was hell. Dick's legs didn't want to support his weight, even without the bullet wound in his right calf. But clinging to Tiger was exhausting in itself and his arms were already shaking. Symptoms were slowly trickling back now that the fight was over. His vision kept swimming and his head kept throbbing and his neck felt like the victim of a bad acupuncture session.

“This is not working,” Tiger said. “We need to stop.”

Helena paused. “Make it quick.”

“You should stop walking,” Tiger said to Dick, lifting him into his arms.

“I swear everyone I've dated has done this at least once,” Dick semi-complained. In all honesty, though, he was just glad Tiger had saved him from admitting defeat a few metres later anyway.

“How are you, Gloria?” Tiger asked.

“Sweet of you to ask, but I'll be fine. We should keep moving.”

Dick rested his head against Tiger's shoulder. Even though Tiger took great pains not to jostle him, every step was like a hammer against his brain. Now would be a great time to go to sleep and get away from this, but he had hit his head a few times today so it probably wasn't the best idea until Alfred could examine him. Damn it.

They passed into a room. The light was too bright. Dick squeezed his eyes shut.

“We have injured,” Helena said. “How close are we to extraction?”

Then came the voice Dick had been wishing he could hear for days. “We need time to clear out any remaining resistance,” Batman said. “Is immediate attention required?”

“No one is about to die,” Helena replied, “but sooner is preferable.”

“We'll need a few more minutes to secure safe passage. I'll send Red Robin and Batgirl to Gotham with the injured as soon as possible.” A gloved hand grasped Dick's, who reluctantly opened his eyes, just a touch, to take in the concerned set of Batman's mouth beneath the cowl. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Light hurts.”

“There is a small office in the corner. It should be darker in there.” Batman called for Red Robin to move blankets they had collected into the office. There were enough that Tim was practically invisible behind them. Seeing a pile of floating blankets did nothing to improve Dick's opinion of his own health.

But, soon enough, he was lying on a stack of them behind the desk in the office, largely shielded from the light of the next room. Gloria was set up on the other side, closer to the door, since she didn't seem quite as sensitive.

Dick rested his hand over his eyes, letting out a long breath. The worst was over, and the rest would be done in a matter of minutes. Then he could go home and deal with whatever the fuck was happening to him.

Tiger squeezed his wrist. “Do not fall asleep yet, jaanaana.”

“I know, I know.”

Tiger let him go and there was a shift in light Dick barely noticed through his closed eyelids, but Tiger was definitely moving away from him.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I should help Batman lock down the facility.”

“Unarmed?” came Jason's voice.

Tiger sighed. “I'll need my gun back.”

Dick wanted to stop him, but had no idea how to do that without sounding needy. He hated that feeling. He wrestled with that in every relationship he'd had. He could sometimes be suffocating and too intense and just too much. No one knew how to handle him, least of all Dick himself.

Fortunately, Jason was fighting on his behalf. “We've got it handled, dude.”

“Is anyone watching the front entrance?”

“Red Robin's traps have got it covered.”

“Just give me the gun.”

Jason sighed. “If you insist.”

Then Tiger was gone.

“Maybe he just needs a few minutes,” Jason said. “It's been a long couple months.”

“I need a few minutes for my head to stop murdering me anyway,” Dick said. Then he fully intended to go after Tiger because fuck this insecurity bullshit. He had every right to be needy after everything he'd been through. He just had to figure out how to drag his wounded ass to the front of the building.

The sounds of activity in the other room were slightly muted, but Dick could pick up a few snatches of conversation. Tim and Barbara were discussing data with Helena. Jason was guarding an entrance to the room and Steph the other. Cass and Damian were sneaking up on stragglers together. Bruce was coordinating everything.

Barbara ducked in to shine a light in Gloria's eyes to make sure she didn't have something worse than a concussion. “No pupil contraction,” she said. “You should be okay, but we have a friend in Gotham who can perform a more thorough exam.”

“I can't see Batman letting her in the cave,” Dick replied.

“He's not. Leslie's on standby at her clinic.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” Dick couldn't wait for Alfred to clear him for sleep. His body was absolutely done with him.

“Just lie there and look pretty, okay?”

“Will do.” For now. Just being horizontal was doing wonders for his entire body, especially his head. There was still a good old-fashioned marching band wrecking the joint, but at least the drummers had calmed down a little.

Barbara left them to rest. Dick felt well enough to push himself into a sitting position. He rested against the wall while his head protested. He breathed through it.

Bruce and Jason were talking nearby, voices hushed. But Dick and Gloria were nowhere near as loud as everyone else, so the sound reached them anyway.

“What happened in there?” Bruce asked.

“That Daedalus guy,” Jason replied. “He'd taken over that agent's mind. Nightwing called her Alia. I think Helena called her Agent 8 in the briefings she sent.”

Bruce's glare was almost audible. He didn't need to ask why there was a dead Spyral agent.

“Daedalus was literally about to take over Nightwing's mind,” Jason said. “There was no time to waste, so Helena and I shot him. Alia was long gone.”

More silent glaring.

“You wanna hate me? Fine. Nightwing's alive because we chose his life over a dead woman's possessed corpse.”

Technically true, but maybe a little harsh.

“...where was Tiger in all this?”

“With me.”

“Why didn't he shoot? Since you insist it was the only option.”

“One of my guns jammed. He lent me his.”

Dick reached up and got a grip on the desk, pulling himself to his feet. Jason was good, but Bruce was a master of making people confess the truth. They'd committed to this path. If Bruce even got a hint that Jason was lying to protect Tiger, things would be much worse than they would have been if he'd admitted Tiger shot in the first place.

Dick made it to the doorframe, light hitting him in the face. Not great for the headache. He reached for the brightness setting on his mask and tinted his lenses, which helped a little.

“Where is he now?” Bruce asked.

“Watching the front entrance,” Jason replied.

“Fetch him. Red Robin and Batgirl are taking our injured to Gotham in a few minutes.”

“Let me handle that,” Dick said. Neither Bruce nor Jason seemed surprised to see him; it wasn't like he was trying to be sneaky.

“Lie back down,” Bruce replied.

“Yeah, that's not gonna work,” Jason said.

“Let's be honest here,” Dick said. “Alf's gonna have me glued to bed as soon as I get to the Batcave. He will probably drug me. I need to sort a few things out with Tiger, preferably one-on-one and before I'm high on pain meds.”

“We are morally obligated to respect the injured guy's wishes, you know.” Jason patted Bruce's shoulder and joined Dick in the doorway. “I'll help you get down there if you're sure you're up to it.”

“I have a limited window of time. So quit asking questions and help me already.”

Jason bent down and let Dick put an arm over his shoulders. “Of course, your majesty.”

Tiger had found himself a quiet spot near a window that gave him the best view of the gravel road leading away from the building. He wanted more than anything to leave this place, but the best he could do until then was find a few moments to himself. The gun felt heavy in his hand as he leaned against the wall, letting his arm hang loosely by his side, barrel pointed towards the floor. He wanted to throw it. He had to keep reminding himself that was a bad idea. He had no idea how Dick threw loaded guns without accidentally shooting himself, but he certainly wasn't about to attempt it. No matter how much he wanted it gone.

It was worrying to think that, only a few months ago, he had been so determined to find Alia and eliminate the threat she posed. The memory felt like it belonged to a different person. He was never going to enjoy her death, but the man he once had been would have shed a few tears for her and then moved on, confident in the knowledge that he had done what was necessary.

Now, it seemed he questioned everything, even the things no one else struggled with. Dick and Helena had been so doggedly determined throughout this past week, even as Tiger wavered. He had once been so confident in his actions. The man he was now couldn't have spent years infiltrating a rival spy organisation, doing everything necessary to climb the ranks and become entrusted with the kind of information he needed to keep Spyral from threatening the world.

The past few months had been difficult enough. This past week, even more so. He still hated himself for bringing Dick into this. They didn't know about that machine, or that Daedalus had taken over Alia's body, but he couldn't stop thinking he never should have even considered involving him. Helena thought Dick had provided a useful distraction for Bannon so she could search for intel, but was that really worth it?

That torture machine caused lasting medical problems. Dick could never be the same again. And it was Tiger's fault for being so weak, so desperate to have Dick close while he and Helena pulled the scraps of Spyral apart.

If this wasn't the end of Spyral now that Daedalus was gone (hopefully), then everything Dick went through would have been pointless. At least if they managed to destroy Spyral, some good would have come out of Dick's suffering. Even if he didn't think it was truly worth it.

“Hey, handsome.”

Tiger flinched more than he would have liked, jerking his head to find Dick approaching him slowly, mouth stretched in a thin smile that did not hide his pain as much as he probably hoped it did. Jason watched them from the nearest doorway before he shrank away.

Dick leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the window. Poor visibility there, but it wasn't like Dick was in any condition to do much anyway.

“You should be resting,” Tiger said, quashing a surge of annoyance that Dick was pushing himself now that his fight was over.

“Tim and Babs are taking us and Gloria back to Gotham soon,” Dick said, evidently ignoring what Tiger had said. “I wanted some one-on-one time while I'm still mostly coherent, because you bet Alfred's gonna drug me six ways from Sunday.”

“What does that even mean?”

Dick shrugged. “Idiom. Doesn't matter. The point is, I wanna take advantage of my brief burst of lucidity before either pain or drugs take my brain for a ride.”

Tired, shaking, in visible pain and Dick was still playing with the English language in ways that should have been illegal. So he really was quite coherent.

Tiger gestured vaguely to the window. “I am working.”

“Yeah, you looked so focused with the way you were glaring at the floor.”

Tiger came perilously close to snapping at him. He took a deep breath and tried to blow all his misplaced frustration out on the exhalation.

“There is a lot on my mind,” he admitted.

Dick rested his head against the wall, his face twisting for the barest of moments before he smoothed it out again. “We couldn't have anticipated things would go like this.”

Tiger had a sudden urge to deny he was thinking about that, purely out of frustration that Dick had so easily dug into his thoughts. The man was supposed to be resting, but he was on his feet with Tiger, thinking about him rather than his own health. That was infuriating. Even more infuriating was the fact he just knew Dick wouldn't listen if he tried to tell him to worry about himself.

“It is our job to anticipate as many worst-case scenarios as possible,” Tiger muttered.

“So, you're telling me we should've anticipated the existence of a mysterious torture machine that isn't supposed to exist, and that a murderous ghost dude we thought was gone was just gonna show up in the body of your ex-partner?”

The absurdity of this whole situation was beginning to give Tiger a headache of his own.

“I'm sorry about Alia,” Dick said quietly.

“I'm the one who—”

“Shh!”

Something else Tiger was not happy about. They were lying for him. He helped kill Alia and they were hiding it so Bruce wouldn't have cause to throw Tiger to the wolves, even if he deserved it.

“Look,” Dick said, “we can't talk about everything right now. But we will. This is the best thing for everyone, okay? Please trust us.”

Tiger didn't want to leave Dick again. He had to hold onto that. They had spent more than enough time apart. Thinking about it left a sick feeling in Tiger's stomach that he did not want to examine.

“I don't like it,” Tiger admitted. “But it is done. I have no choice.”

Dick sighed, and his calm mask slipped just enough to betray the utter exhaustion lying underneath. “Okay. I can work with that.” He smiled weakly. “I love you.” He reached for Tiger's hand. “Come on. We're leaving soon. I also might need help walking. I mean, despite my rugged good looks, I'm actually wiped right now.”

“Yes. I definitely had not noticed that.”

Jason stepped out from wherever he'd been hiding, holding out his hand. Tiger passed him the gun, pushing down the immense relief he felt now that he no longer had to carry it.

“Get back to rendezvous,” Jason said. “I'll take it from here.”

Barbara took Gloria to a Wayne family friend for medical treatment while Tim took Tiger and Dick to the batcave. Alfred had already prepared a bed in the med bay. Tim helped Tiger get Dick sitting on it before heading out to work on the computer.

“You can remain for a moment,” Alfred said to Tiger, reaching for a tiny flashlight. Tiger crammed himself into a corner, arms crossed, hoping that would be enough to stay out of the way when all he wanted to do was curl up around Dick and go to sleep with him.

“Light hurts,” Dick said quietly. He listed in the seat a little and Tiger expected him to fall. He caught himself, but it took him a while to straighten up properly.

“I am sorry, sir. I need to check your eyes.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

Alfred shone the flashlight into each of Dick's eyes while Dick dug his fingernails into the leather gurney and visibly tried not to flinch.

“Hm.” Alfred tapped a note into the computer nearby. “You have unequal pupil dilation, sir. We'll need to isolate the cause.”

“Did Tim send you any data?” Tiger asked. “Dick was subjected to a machine that causes long-term medical problems.”

Alfred clicked around. “Ah. Here we are.”

Dick was swaying a little again. Tiger gave into the urge to steady him. Dick rested his head on Tiger's supporting arm. He leaned more heavily against him with every passing moment Alfred spent reading the files Tim had sent him.

Dick mumbled something that Tiger couldn't understand. He tried again:

“Idonfeelright.”

“You don't feel right?”

Dick nodded weakly.

Alfred stepped away from the computer. “Let's get you lying down, sir. We can do a preliminary brain scan here, but we may need to commandeer a hospital's equipment for an in-depth diagnosis.”

Dick tried for a smile, but only one half of his face cooperated. Tiger's blood turned to ice.

No. No, no, no.

Did they even have the resources to treat a stroke?

Tiger and Alfred got Dick lying down. Dick was too weak to offer assistance. His right side seemed unwilling to cooperate.

Dick shut his eyes, face only half-twisting with apparent discomfort. He didn't try speaking again.

“I can take it from here, Master Tiger,” Alfred said, pulling a machine from the ceiling that hid the cave from view. The machine was a huge white arm with a box on the end that had a half-cylindrical piece cut from it. Tiger had never seen such a machine before and had a sneaking suspicion it was not a standard piece of medical equipment used in hospitals that had entire rooms for brain-scanning equipment.

“Are you sure? I can... hold things.” Tiger absolutely did not want to leave Dick in this condition. If this really was a stroke, it could be fatal. He wanted to punch himself for not insisting they get Dick medical attention sooner. He hadn't seemed in immediate danger. If that decision killed the man he loved...

“I'm sure.” Alfred pressed buttons on some kind of box machine that started a whirring in the arm-end. “There are snacks in the kitchen. Eat something. Rest if you can.”

Dick held out his good left hand, giving Tiger's a squeeze before pulling away. Tiger got the message. This was up to Dick and Alfred now.

“It may not be a stroke, sir,” Alfred said as Tiger forced himself to back away. “There are other medical conditions that cause similar symptoms. Do not panic.”

Tiger didn't have it in him to speak. He swallowed around the lump quickly forming in his throat, nodded curtly, and stepped outside. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it.

He was panicking. Definitely panicking. Dick could be having a stroke. Dick could be dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

“How is he?” Tim called from across the cave. Tiger took a few quick breaths—shallower than he wanted—and joined him at the computer. Tim shoved out a wheeled stool for him.

“We don't know yet,” Tiger said, slumping onto the seat. Talking hurt. Thinking hurt. “Fatigue. Unequal pupil dilation. Speech difficulties. Weakness on one side of the body.”

Tim had changed out of his uniform into civvies—a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants that looked older than Damian. A pair of glasses was set on his nose as he squinted at the data flitting across the computer screen.

“Okay, so, I think we both know the obvious possibilty,” Tim said, with an even tone Tiger envied. “If it's a stroke, we'll deal with it. People survive strokes all the time. It could also be something else. Some migraines do that.” Tim pushed his glasses further up his nose with a finger, offering Tiger a serious look that was somehow reassuring in the fact he wasn't trying to feign a lack of concern. Tim was as calm as possible without being in denial. Tiger appreciated that.

“I didn't take you for an optimist.”

“I'm not.” Tim refocused on the screen, tapping the keys every so often. Tiger had no idea what he was doing. “Listen. I get migraines sometimes. Not the type Dick might have, but I did plenty of research on the various types when trying to figure out what the heck was wrong with me. Bruce benched me for a bit when they got bad, but I got medication and function pretty well most of the time now. Whatever is happening with Dick, we'll handle it. We always do.”

“You still sound like an optimist.”

“In this family, it's more like stubbornness. Examine all the options, prepare for the worst, hope for the best. It's all you can do sometimes.”

There was something soothing in listening to Tim talk like this. They'd never spent as much time together as some of the others, but Tiger had always liked him. Matter-of-factness was more comforting than empty platitudes.

Of course, that didn't mean Tiger was going to stop panicking. His heart pounded something terrible and his throat hurt. He was also probably shaking but didn't want to check his hands to make sure.

Tim let Tiger sit there while he worked. Tiger wanted to pace around and probably throw things, but that would require energy he did not have. One part of him longed for sleep. The rest of him was too restless to even consider it until he knew whether Dick was going to be okay.

They'd been through so much. Dick had been through so much. He couldn't lose him now. What would he even do if Dick died tonight? Tiger had dragged out every ounce of strength he had and shoved it into getting them home safely. He had nothing left. He couldn't take one more piece of bad news. Not tonight. Possibly not ever.

Tiger didn't know how long he sat there, before a roaring sound echoed through the cave.

“That'll be the fam,” Tim said, swivelling in his chair. They watched the batmobile and a fleet of motorcycles roll in from the deeper recesses of the cave and park on a wide platform that held a few other vehicles in various states of disrepair.

Bruce and Damian hopped out of the car. Jason and the girls swung themselves off motorbikes. By the time they reached Tim and Tiger, cowls and masks had been discarded and other various accessories—mainly gloves—were in the process of doing the same.

“Snacks are upstairs,” Tim told the group, who all headed for the stairs except for Bruce.

“Report,” Bruce said. His hair was moulded to his head with sweat.

“Gloria has a concussion,” Tim replied. “Barbara's keeping an eye on her at one of our safehouses tonight. If there are no complications, Helena will get her home tomorrow.”

“And Dick?”

“We don't know yet.” Tim paused for a moment, face grim. “There have been some... complications. Alfred hasn't given any updates so far.”

“What kind of complications?”

“Fatigue, speech difficulties, weakness in one side of the body.” Tim listed the symptoms without inflection. Tiger could feel a swell of anxiety rise in the boy next to him, before he beat it back. “We don't know the cause yet.”

Tiger was grateful no one had tried speaking to him. He wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth. Sobbing, most likely.

Bruce sighed, unlatching his cape from the rest of his uniform. “He's strong. If anyone can survive this, it's him.” There was something about his voice that almost made that sound believable.

Tiger bit his own finger to stop himself from bursting into tears.

Jason came back down the stairs. “If you three want anything to eat, you better get up here now.”

Tiger's stomach felt like knives. Eating was the last thing on his mind. Maybe he could drink some water and try to take his mind off Dick for a moment. That second thing was unlikely but at least he could try.

Bruce stayed downstairs to update computer files based on intel received from Spyral, but Tim and Tiger both followed Jason into the manor.

The rest of the family was standing around the kitchen benches, munching on sandwiches and cookies and fruit and a vegetable platter. Jason shoved Tiger towards the food, so he grabbed a tiny stick of celery. Celery was close enough to water that maybe he wouldn't feel sick eating it.

Cass offered him a reassuring pat on the arm, but mercifully did not attempt to hug him. Embarrassed that she had read him so well, but relieved that she could, he gave her a nod. Smiling was beyond him in that moment.

Tim told the group about Dick's condition. Possibly because they were tired after a long night, everyone quietly absorbed the information and kept eating. Tiger was also grateful for that. He was barely holding together. He did not need sympathy. He kept his gaze on the counter so he wouldn't make eye contact with anyone.

Tiger ate his celery as slowly as possible, but there came a point where to continue gnawing on a piece the size of his thumbnail would stick out as particularly ridiculous. Jason shoved a glass of water into his hand instead.

Most of them were still wearing their earpieces. Bruce's voice crackled to life in Tiger's ear.

“I have an update from Alfred,” he said. “No blood clot in the brain. Dick is not having a stroke. He is in severe pain, so it would appear that he has a particular type of migraine.”

The room collectively exhaled. Stephanie quickly passed the information to Damian, who was the only person not still wearing his earpiece. The group gradually began to trickle out for showers and bed. Tiger stayed put, sipping his water slowly. If he made any sudden moves, he definitely would start crying.

Jason stayed with him. “You'll be pleased to know Helena blew up the place, with a few extra explosives in that torture machine for good measure once she'd extracted all the data from it. She's hanging out in Gotham until Gloria's up to travelling. Don't know what she plans after that.”

Tiger shrugged. Helena had been tight-lipped about what she wanted once Spyral was no longer a threat. St Hadrian's still existed. It was a school as well as a headquarters. Perhaps Helena could shut the school down or replace all the staff and change it into something less espionage-oriented. Tiger didn't much care at this point.

“You've totally got a right to freak out, you know.” Jason leaned against the counter, ducking his head into Tiger's line of sight. “You've been through a lot.”

“I'll consider it once I've seen Dick,” Tiger said, draining the last of his water. He wasn't sure when Dick would be well enough for visitors. Migraines could last hours. He didn't want to make it harder on him just to satisfy his own anxiety.

His earpiece crackled and Alfred's voice floated in. “Master Tiger, do you have a moment?”

Tiger's heart jittered in his chest, which was simply ridiculous. This was not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe Dick was feeling better.

“Yes?” Tiger managed to keep his voice relatively even, but Jason still gave him a look.

“Master Dick is asking for you.”

“Is he well enough?”

“No, but he insists.”

Tiger felt a surge of warmth, tempered by frustration. Happy that Dick wanted to see him, but not so happy he was going to make himself feel worse just to have a few moments with him.

“I'm on my way,” Tiger said.

“What's up?” Jason asked.

“Dick is in no condition for visitors,” Tiger replied, rinsing his glass out in the sink. “But he wants to see me anyway.”

“Classic Dick.” Jason waved him on. “Go forth, my friend.”

“Never speak like that again.”

Jason snickered, shoving Tiger towards the door. “Get outta here.”

Tiger headed back to the batcave. Bruce was still working on the computer, but a sandwich had appeared beside him. Either Alfred was, in fact, a superhero who could be in two places at once, or someone else had brought it to him.

Alfred was waiting outside the door to the med bay. He beckoned Tiger over and said, in a low voice, “He is sensitive to light and sound, sir. Be careful.”

“I'll be quiet.”

“Only a few minutes. Then he needs to rest.” Alfred opened the door, waiting in the doorway while Tiger crossed to the bed in the middle of the med bay.

Dick was laid up on his back, a dark sleeping mask over his eyes. Alfred had covered him with soft blankets with a damp towel on his forehead.

The fingers on Dick's right hand twitched a little. “Tiger?” His face pinched with pain best it could, his right side moving the tiniest amount. The paralysis didn't seem has complete as it had before, but it was still there.

Tiger gently took his hand, running his thumb over Dick's knuckles. He wasn't entirely sure how much Dick could feel, but apparently it was enough. Dick let out a breath and sank a little into the pillow. He was still holding himself tightly, tensing every so often.

Dick squeezed his hand. There was no strength in it. Tiger brushed his lips against his knuckles and Dick managed a small smile.

Alfred put his hand on Tiger's shoulder, nodding towards the door. Tiger gave Dick's hand one more kiss and gently laid it back down, stroking his knuckles as he worked up the willpower to leave.

Then he left Dick to rest, hoping the pain would be gone by the morning.

#dicktiger #homecoming dicktiger fic #dick grayson #tiger king of kandahar #fanfiction #my fics

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