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deathwishy · 3 years

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×MARTIAN AU×

It was April 1st and, according to plan, every hero from the Young Justice was present. Perfect.

It was hard, but Marinette and Tim managed to bring everyone together for the biggest prank in Young Justice history. Of course, their team mates didn't know that. Except Miss Martian. She found out by accident and they had to take her in, but it turned out to be the best decision ever.

It all began with a ghost story two months prior. They were already planning and Miss Martian was just brought in. They decided that it was the perfect moment to plant the seed of fear and doubt in their hearts.

It started out as an innocent game night. Most of their team was present except for Kaldur, Artemis, Wally and Bart. With conspiratorial looks, M'gann suggested watching a horror movie, saying that she didn't see one yet. The team agreed, suggesting a modern one with good graphics, as a good introduction to the genre. After the movie came to an end, M'gann snorted loudly, instantly attracting the attention of the team, without looking like it was her intention.

"What's the matter?" Asked Dick, grabbing the remote and stopping the movie at the credits. M'gann blushed.

"It's nothing, it's just... We had nursery rhymes scarier than this."

"Oh?" Demanded Superboy. "Do tell."

Tim and Marinette locked gazes when no one was looking and grinned maniacally.

"Well, there is a legend, which my brother told me, that kept me awake for months. The story itself is not that scary but the concept and the fact that it turned out to be real did a number on me."

And so the story began. It was a genuine Martian story but it was not real, as M'gann was claiming. It was about a being called a Raggan'aaz. A shadow being that walked Mars long before the Martians and dwelled in the caverns deep below the surface. They lived for long and wouldn't die of natural causes, only if killed. When the White and Green Martians came around, they were hunt down, but a few still remained. After that,hey craved Martian blood but they were also very careful and patient. After all, they wouldn't die because of old age. As years passed, they became a myth but still very alive in Martian culture. They even had a rhyme to remind the children to stay out of their supposed caverns, where people would still disappear. 'Stay, my child, away from dark/ Or The Martian will claim his mark/ Stay away from places long forbidden/ And beware the red eyes in darkness hidden.'

"Wait, you called him The Martian?" Asked Superboy, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, they were supposed to be the first Martians. And so the title of The Martians came to the beasts. This is a translation from my language, Raggan'aaz is the original term. Now let me finish."

Raggan'aaz were predators. It was said that they would stalk their prey for weeks, months, some said even years, before engaging. The prey would even go insane by the time they were killed, drove into madness by the beasts whispers and taunts. They wanted to imbue the flesh of their victim with the taste of fear. Of terror. Once they had a target in mind, they would not let go until it was dead.

"It's not that scary." Dick said, grinning and crossing his arms.

"Maybe not for you, but our people tend to beware when they see red in the darkness, shadows with the corners of their eyes or hear whispers without anybody nearby."

"Maybe people were just going insane."

"Maybe." M'gann shrugged and stood up. "I'll go to sleep now, good night."

The team felt just a tad bit uneasy but they blamed that on the movie. They didn't know that it was Miss Martian, suggesting a little fear on the psychic link. Nothing serious. The three weren't planning on permanently scaring their team.

Since then, Marinette told Trixx, who was extatic, to create illusions around the base. They kept them out of missions, they didn't want to create real problems. The tamer were nothing much, a shadow, a pair of glowing red eyes that were visible just for a second here and there, the more unsettling ones were a few babbling but ominous sounding whispers in the halls at night. M'gann made sure to get each member alone when Trixx made the illusions, guiding the kwami while invisible. When Kaldur, Artemis, Bart and Wally mentioned these things, the tension in the team only grew tighter. By the time April 1st came around, the Young Justice believed that they were hunt down by a Raggan'aaz.

...

"I think it's bullshit. Everything began after M'gann told you that goddamn story." Started Bart a month later, looking around.

"Look, it's nothing, maybe the story was a bit more unsettling than we thought it was. Now we are just seeing things that are not there." Dick countered, waving around a cookie.

"Maybe she's pranking us." Pointed Artemis, plopping on the sofa. Wally followed her, snuggling next to her.

"Yeah, no, she's cool and all but she's not a prankster." Said Wally dismissively.

Tim and Marinette were watching from the side, trying not to laugh. It was a stupid prank but that's why it would work. But they would need a fourth player. Someone that would be trusted about Martian information and that was usually serious enough to be believed about serious stuff. They needed J'onn J'onzz.

The three cornered him when he visited the base a few days later, away from the rest.

"We need your help." M'gann began, flashing a smile. After a few seconds J'onn frowned slightly. M'gann only smiled wider.

"It's one of the most ridiculous plans I've ever heard. How did three of the smartest heroes in here come up with it? And why?" Now M'gann was listening too. She got on board but didn't know why they wanted this.

"We need to get back at them from what they did six months ago."

"When they threw us in a panic room and didn't let us out until we confessed our feelings for each other." Tim smiled at Marinette, taking her in a side hug and kissing her on the head. She blushed a little and just snugged closer.

"It worked out for us, in the end, but we can't let that slide. This is war."

"And yes, it is a stupid plan and a very stupid prank but that's why it will work."

"They will expect something elaborate from us, so this is the way to go. They will not know what hit them."

J'onn considered for a few seconds. That may work. He wouldn't usually partake in such a childish endeavor but he was curious about the outcome. The Raggan'aaz were mere folklore but they were terrifying, especially for Martian children. Human children may be just the same.

"Very well. I am curious about the outcome. What do you need me to do?"

The fearsome trio smirked. This would be epic.

After they briefed J'onn and set the date, a week from then, and dispersed. Tim couldn't believe that they convinced J'onn to do it, Marinette was thrilled about it and M'gann was giggling like an idiot.

A week later, J'onn J'onzz stumbled from the zeta tube, disheveled and clearly unsettled but otherwise not obviously harmed. He was clutching his side and he was limping but that was it.

"What the hell happened?" Dick was the first one to get to J'onn, helping him on a chair.

"I... Am not quite sure myself." He turned his eyes to M'gann, who was checking him for injures, playing her role flawlessly. "If I didn't know better I would have said it was a Raggan'aaz."

Bart dropped his phone, Kaldur and Artemis flinched, Superboy whipped his head around, until then being in a conversation with Dick, who looked queasy. The rest of the team had varying reactions.

"Bullshit." Blurted Artemis.

"It's real?!" Screamed Marinette, looking at M'gann, who was now becoming more pale by the second. With a little help from her powers.

"I told you it was real!"

"We thought it was just a crazy legend! What the hell?" Screamed Wally pulling at his hair.

The team was now full in full hysterics.

"I think you summoned it." Said Garfield in a matter of factly tone.

"What is that?" Asked J'onn with a neutral tone, but with a hint of concern. He was good.

"The Martian, Raggan'aaz, he's been prowling around this place for weeks. I didn't actually think it was one of the beasts, I told the team the story just because I saw some things that reminded me of them and thought it would be funny. It didn't pass my mind that an actual Raggan'aaz would be on earth. I think he was looking for you. How did you even escape him?" Asked M'gann, now breathing hard.

That was something that they came up with a few days ago, when they were brainstorming ideas to make the story more believable. J'onn approved when they talked after, seemingly stoic as ever, but M'gann told them that he will be definitely laughing after the call ended.

"I don't think I was his actual prey, otherwise I wouldn't have had a chance. I think is someone else, but I wouldn't be surprised if he tried a second time."

"We have to tell the Justice League, this is bad." Now Nightwing looked alarmed.

"Calm down. We are not 100% sure this is a Raggan'aaz. Maybe M'gann's story is getting to your heads. My encounter may have been a misunderstanding, it would not be the first time another Martian impersonated a Raggan'aaz. I will investigate the situation but I advise you to be vigilant."

That seemed to calm the team down, if only for a bit. Tim was hugging Marinette, his face hidden in her hair to hide his smile. He could feel her smile too in his chest. M'gann was keeping it together very well, talking with J'onn in hushed tones as she led him to the zeta tubes. Tim was now looking at Superboy, who looked uneasy. He was listening. Good. Let him fan the flames. The asshole was the one to throw them in the panic room.

April 1st, The Young Justice Base of Operation

The team was tense and paranoid but not very much above the normal level. All the heroes were tense and paranoid most of the time.

There have been no sightings of the Raggan'aaz since J'onn has been 'attacked' but no one feels out of the hook yet. They have been questioning M'gann relentlessly but she quite enjoyed sharing bits of her culture, all real facts that could be woven easily into the lie but would stand on their own when the prank was done. She liked her small victories.

As they planned, the team was afraid but not so afraid that it would start affecting them or that they would feel the need to further consult with the League about it. Martian Manhunter knew so the others must know too, or so the youngsters assumed.

In the morning something could be felt in the air, besides the smell of pancakes. It was a bit of Trixx's and Plagg's magic, a bit of mischief sprinkled in the air.

Tim, M'gann and Marinette were in the kitchen that morning, nothing unusual. Marinette and M'gann were making pancakes and Tim was drinking his much needed coffee. He had to be wide awake. They already bugged the whole base but nothing can beat the real thing.

As the team was lured into the kitchen, the Raggan'aaz made his appearance.

"I'm smelling Dupain-Cheng pancakes. This is the best 'Welcome back after 6 months in space' gift I could have hoped for." Adrien was practically skipping in the kitchen, stealing one of the plates. He then drowned them in syrup and whipping cream.

"Jesus Christ Adrien, stop, you'll get sick."

"Worth it."

"You came back a week ago. I've made pancakes then."

"Did you hear what I said? 6 months. I'm planning on making up for the lost time."

"I'm heading for the gym. Feel free to join me." Tim said, kissing Marinette. She giggled and winked.

The others either cooed or made gagging sounds. Adrien was grinning. He was the main Timari shipper. A few seconds after Tim left, there was screaming in the hall. Perfect timing.

When they saw the scene in the hall, the team freezed. There, before Tim, was something resembling a White Martian, but only in form. His skin was a dark red riddled with black veins, long white claws, a mouth full of gleaming yellow teeth and red eyes that looked like they could set you on fire. The beast almost reached 10 feet, but hen it went on all fours. Trixx had really outdone herself. Tim had his Bo staff out but kept his distance. After all, the illusion would fall as soon as they touched him so they had to make the most of it.

"What the hell is that?!" Screamed Adrien calling for his transformation. Nobody saw Plagg's grin.

"Raggan'aaz." Said Nightwing, pulling out his escrima sticks. They cracked with electricity. He looked ready to puke.

Artemis was swearing along with Wally, Kaldur looked like he might run, Garfield turned into a rhyno, looking terrified but ready to punce.

The beast groweled something that made M'gann gasp.

"He said that his mark is on all of us. We are his prey."

It was all they needed to attack. The speedsters tried to get to him first but the thing was just as fast, if not faster. After all, it didn't obey any laws of physics, it was just an illusion. Marinette was already transformed but she, M'gann and Tim were sitting on the sides looking like they were waiting for an opening. When it almost got cornered the Raggan'aaz jumped on the ceiling and then out of the room. With a battle cry, the team followed it. The three stayed behind, not trusting themselves to not laugh. There were a lot of screams and thuds but after a few minutes it went quiet.

When the young heroes strolled in, with the most betrayed faces they have ever seen, the three burst out laughing. They couldn't even speak for a few minutes.

"Was any of it true?" Asked Nightwing with his 'dissapointed big brother' face™.

"Only the story." Said M'gann gasping for air.

"How did you get J'onn on it?"

"Pretty easy actually, he didn't have that much to do so he agreed. It helps to be among his favorites." Replied Tim grinning. He was still clinging to a giggling Marinette.

"Why?" Asked Adrien with a pained look on his face.

" Panic room." The couple said at the same time.

"But that worked out!" Adrien shouted indignated.

"It did, but this was war. We needed to retaliate."

The Justice League heard about the war from J'onn after it was done and they thoroughly enjoyed the clips Tim sent them. They unanimously decided to not cross Tim and Marinette. The two could conquer the world if they weren't so sleep deprived.

Ok, so this was written at 3 AM and there might be some inconsistencies but please enjoy my best shot at this prompt.

This is set after season 2 of Young Justice and before season 3 but Wally is still alive because he never died in my heart.

This came later than I would've liked but civilian lives are a pain.

@timari-month-event

#maribat #mlb x dc #timari january #timari #maribat january

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lala-ladybug · 3 years

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Healing Hands: Chapter 3

Happy finals week, ugh. As always, reblogs are appreciated!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

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Chapter 3: Well shit Babs, maybe I like ponies

Marinette sat on a rock and paddled her bare feet in the water. It was a beautiful day, the sun was warming the top of her loose, dark hair and the ocean in front of her stretched for miles and miles.

A noise disturbed her peaceful moment. A distant cry, probably a seagull.

She sighed and leaned back on her hands to breathe in the smell of--

Marinette choked. Why was there smoke in the air?

The cries grew louder as she looked back at the water before her. She started when she saw that they came from her friends, who were in the now-tumultuous water, trying to keep themselves afloat. They were only a few yards away, she could make it if she just--

A force around her waist tugged her hard as she leapt to her feet. Her face collided with the concrete beneath her-- the top of a building, she realized. If the water level was up this high, then....

From where she lay, she could see directly down into the water. It was no longer clear, but a deep crimson. There were dozens of figures scattered about, some still struggling and some motionless. She scrambled to get up as her eyes snapped to Alya’s hand disappearing below the waves.

That damn force jerked her to the other side of the building, farther from her friends.

“No!” Marinette cried out desperately. The force released her and she whirled to find her attacker.

A flash of red caught her eye, and--

Oh.

It was Ladybug.

Marinette shook her head, not understanding. If that was Ladybug, then.... No, it couldn’t be Ladybug, because she was Ladybug. She fumbled for her earrings, but felt nothing.

Ladybug stalked deliberately up to Marinette and pushed her to the ground. Marinette landed on her hands and knees, both of which were now shaking.

“Look at them,” it was her own voice that spat so harshly from Ladybug’s lips. “Look at them.” She grabbed Marinette’s hair from behind and forced her head up.

Marinette could now see Adrien, Kagami, Luka, and Chloe in the ocean in front of her. Their lifeless faces floated just below the surface, the bloodied water doing nothing to conceal their frozen expressions of terror.

Marinette sobbed and closed her eyes. Ladybug pulled sharply on her hair again, and looked into Marinette’s eyes.

“Look at them. Don’t you dare take your eyes off the mess you’ve made. You will never be able to save them all,” Ladybug’s eyes, her eyes, blazed with the vehemence of her words. She opened her mouth to speak again, but a loud beeping sound was all that came out.

Marinette gasped and sat up in her bed, the alarm sending her heartbeat into a frenzy. Tikki flew up next to her as she slumped over with a hand over her eyes.

It was just a dream.

Another Kwami must have turned off her alarm because the beeping had stopped, but Marinette could still hear the echoes of her friends’ dying breaths ringing in her ears.

“Marinette... are you okay?” Tikki placed a delicate paw on her chosen’s arm. “We heard you cry out while you were sleeping.”

The girl lifted her head and gave the little god a shaky smile. “It was just a dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tikki floated back down to where the other Kwami were piled on the side of the bed with similarly worried expressions on their faces.

Marinette exhaled a bracing sigh. “Okay.... It was Syren. Or-or Chat Blanc, I’m not really sure.” The Kwami exchanged a look at that. This was not the first time she’d had a nightmare about water. “But Ladybug was there, and she was attacking me.”

Tikki looked especially concerned about that new piece of information. She opened her mouth to say something when Marinette’s phone lit up with a call. The ringtone was Alya’s.

Marinette picked up, trying to control the shaking of her hands. “H-hey girl, what’s up?” Her tone was deceptively cheerful.

“Hey Mari! Just checking to see if you’re awake. Nino and I are ready, he even put on the goggles already!” Marinette instantly relaxed as she heard Alya’s excited voice bubbling out.

“Yeah dudette, they feel really weird. But comfy!” Nino must have leaned over to pitch in.

Marinette shook off the last vestiges of the nightmare with a giggle. “Yeah, it’s kind of tricky to get the headset to fit over your glasses, but you’ll get used to it!”

“Well if you’re not ready yet then you’d better hurry up, girl! The game launches in five minutes.”

Marinette scrambled to check the time. “Oh crap! I gotta go, see you guys soon!” She hung up and rushed to untangle herself from her blankets.

“Good thing you set three alarms, huh?” Tikki followed her down from the loft and watched her brush out her hair.

Marinette stuck her tongue out at the god of creation.

* * *

Red Hood stalked into the Batcave, nearly running Oracle over as she wheeled herself up to her station at the Batcomputer.

“Woah Jaybird, don’t let me get in your way there,” Babs glared at his retreating back. “Asshole,” she muttered to herself.

Jason hurled his helmet onto the floor of the bathroom and began shucking off his suit with far more force than necessary. He started a shower and looked over his new wounds in the mirror. He’d been stupid, so damn stupid, on patrol.

“Red Hood, report in,” Batman’s gravelly voice cut through on his comms. “Hood, you are not to engage alone. What is your location?”

But Jason couldn’t hear him. The only thing he could hear was blood rushing in his ears, but it wasn’t his blood. No, it was the blood of every monstrous, corrupt asshole in this city. And he wanted it to run on the streets.

The Joker had sent thugs out to a meet-up. Well, Red Hood could send them back in a casket. He crouched beside a gargoyle and watched for the arrival of the van he’d tailed. There were only two men. They left the vehicle and waited outside, lighting cigarettes. Too easy.

Red Hood swept down the building, guns never leaving their holsters. He wanted this to hurt. Them or him, he wasn’t sure. But he got his wish as he beat the two men to a pulp. He wasn’t sure how far he’d have gone if not for the arrival of the gang the Joker’s men were supposed to meet with.

They slashed his back with knives. Shallow wounds, easy to manage. By the time Red Hood turned to face them, the others had arrived-- Batman, Nightwing, Robin. And boy were they pissed.

Jason winced as the hot water hit the cuts on his back. He rolled his shoulders and just let the steam ground him. He didn’t kill again, even if every time that green-haired bastard got involved, he went off the rails.

He would get to choose his own path, not the one Bruce wanted for him, but damn well not the one Thalia wanted for him either. This story was his, he reminded himself while gingerly toweling off. Even if he couldn’t look his own reflection in the eye.

He gripped the countertop, staring down as he let his hair drip into the sink. No, he wasn’t feeling desperate enough to see if his eyes were green again.

Damnit, he had to apologize to Babs. He felt calmer now, but he’d been a real dick when he came in. Jason dressed quickly in sweatpants and an old shirt, then padded quietly back to where he knew his sister would be at the computers.

“Hey,” he said, knocking softly when he entered to announce his presence. Barbara didn’t respond for a moment. She was leaning forward in her chair, typing something into one monitor while listening to police chatter, then nodded to herself and sat back.

“Hey.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Robin told me what happened on patrol.”

Jason scowled. “That little tattletale.”

Barbara offered him a reassuring smile. “That little tattletale is the only reason I didn’t hack into your bank account and order a damn pony.”

“Well shit Babs, maybe I like ponies,” Jason snarked back, but his heart wasn’t into it. “Listen... I’m sorry about earlier. If replacement talked to you already, you know what kind of mood I was in, but that’s no excuse.”

Babs turned her chair to face him and held out her hand. He stepped forward and took it, and she said, “We know you’re trying, Jay. Stuff like this? This is who you are. A year ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead apologizing to me!” She cringed. “Ah, no offense.”

He chuckled. “None taken, it’s about time you started getting in on the undead jokes.” He patted her hand before walking away back to the main space of the cave. “But thank you, it means a lot.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth!” She raised her voice and turned back to face the computer.

Dick and Tim were already waiting in the cave. Tim was fiddling with some beds and what looked like opaque ski goggles. He always fidgeted when he was nervous.

“Hey replacement,” Jason shouted across the room. He noticed Dick bristle, but cut him off before he could get the patented older brother speech. “How much time ‘til the launch?”

Tim’s eyes lit up, and damn him for caring, but Jason just didn’t want them to be afraid of him.

* * *

Connor and Zatanna were washing dishes in the Cave’s kitchen after dinner. Connor heard the distant sound of someone arriving via zeta tube. He let Zatanna know as they finished drying their plates, then followed her to go greet their visitors.

Wally and Artemis staggered into the room, both weighed down by overflowing boxes of equipment.

“Oh thank god, please help me!” Artemis said, spotting Connor. He obliged and easily took the heavy box from her. She rubbed her arms and smiled gratefully as he held it aloft in one hand.

“It must be so handy having him around,” she sighed to Zatanna.

The magician giggled. “It certainly has its perks, but....” She lifted her hands and said clearly, “Flesruoy egnarra.” The contents of the boxes, some assorted cots, VR headsets, and computers, floated up and placed themselves into a neat formation. “A girl can get by by herself.” She gave Artemis a fistbump.

The zeta tube activated and they all looked up to watch it. The AI announced Wondergirl, and Cassie Sandsmark walked out. She looked up from her phone and waved. “Oh hey guys, whatcha doing?”

Wally zoomed around the set-up Zatanna had created. “We’re just setting up to play this new virtual reality game that’s coming out at midnight! What about you?”

“Oh, what a coincidence, I was just--”

Cassie was cut off by the zeta tube activating again. This time it was Bart, carrying Jaime bridal style, and running at full speed. He skidded to a halt, put a very ill-looking Jaime down, and ran a hand through his windswept hair.

“So totally crash! What’s poppin’?” He made finger guns at Connor, Zatanna, and Artemis.

Zatanna started explaining, “Well, like were just telling Cassie, there’s this new video game coming out at midnight and we--”

She was interrupted by the screech of a green pterodactyl swooping in from the zeta tube. It circled once around the high ceilings of the hollowed-out mountain, then landed and shrank into Beast Boy.

“Just a heads up, Arsenal’s right behind me and he’s a little angry-- oh what are you guys doing?”

Connor was getting frustrated now. “We’re trying to get set up for this new video game that’s launching in five minutes, so if you guys wouldn’t mind--”

A small explosion sounded from the door to the exterior of the island. Roy burst in amidst a cloud of dust.

“Hope I’m not late, I lost my phone.” He sounded like he was in a bad mood.

Bart whispered to Connor, “He means he destroyed his phone.”

Roy dusted off his pants, then looked to Wally and Artemis and asked, “The hell are you doing here?”

“AUGH,” Artemis had had enough. “We’re here to play the video game coming out at midnight! If you want to join us, fine, but if you don’t then get out.” She pointed to the zeta tubes.

Garfield tried to placate her. “Sheesh, it’s just a game! No need to get so worked up.”

Jaime gave him an incredulous look. “Weren’t you just throwing a tantrum yesterday about Bart kicking your ass halfway to Bialya in Smash?”

“...Noted.” Garfield answered.

“Well, looks like we’ve got plenty of hands to help get everyone set up. Let’s get to it!” Cassie expertly maneuvered the two teams away from setting off their more explosive members. They distributed headsets and assigned reclining positions without further delay.

* * *

Marinette put the headset on and laid down on her bed.

“Ready to go back?” Tikki asked her.

She gave the little god a grin. “Definitely.”

In the distance, the bells in Notre Dame chimed six times, but Marinette couldn’t hear them. Her mind had gone somewhere far, far away. Somewhere new.

#healing hands #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #maribat #maribat fic #batfam #batfam fic #yj #yj fic #young justice #young justice fic

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 4 years

Text

It takes a pack to raise a pup

“This is bad... What am I going to do?!” The gofer nervously paced around the infirmary, clutching the bitten arm in his hand before turning to face the Janitor “Please tell me that this is just a bad joke!” He pleaded “Please tell me that this is just a mistake...”

“Sorry ta break it to ya Bud.” The janitor lowered his cap down in sympathy. “But I ain’t jokin’ and I ain’t wrong about this: dat ova here is definitely a werewolf bite. I should know, I saw what my table an’ chair legs looked like after my first few full moons.”

As this was a very serious situation, he forced himself to hold back his laughter at the intrusive memory of his wife telling him that her solution to keeping him from turning the furnature into his chew toys was to swat his snout with a rolled up newspaper every time he ignored his bones and squeaky toys in favor of the table legs. This resulted in him letting out a noise that sounded like a cough.

“B-but what about my Ma and Grandpa?! They don’t even know that monster stuff goes down in the studio! How am I supposed to explain to them that every month, I’m going to turn into a blood-thirsty monster!?”

“If ya don’t wanna tell ‘em, they don’t have ta know.” Wally shrugged. “A lotta wolves don’t tell even their closest family members.”

“What if my Ma questions why all my clothes are getting ripped up?! What if Grandpa finds out when he sees me turn for the first- Oh no... WHAT IF I BITE THEM?! WHAT IF I EAT THEM AFTER I TURN?! WALLY, WHAT IF I END UP KILLING THEM?!”

Buddy felt sick to his stomach as he slumped down to the floor, Wally sat down next to him and patted his back.

“Hey Buddy, you’re gonna be fine. Trust me! There’s a ton of werewolves here at dis studio, none of us would mind showin’ ya the ropes or givin’ ya some good advice for dealin’ with this. Who knows, it might even be a little fun ta get a new pup in the pack.”

“Uuuugggggghhhhhhhhh...”

The Janitor’s words and smile didn’t reassure the nervous gofer, if anything, hearing that he and Wally weren’t the only wolves in the studio made Buddy wonder if the monster that bit him last week was one of his own coworkers. As he thought about it, The wiry music director who was in a constant state of irritation seemed like he was a good candidate to be the wolf who bit him...

He would be lying if he said he couldn’t imagine the man sinking those sharp teeth of his into a human being’s flesh.

“Buddy, c’mon, look at me. It’s gonna be okay, I’m not gonna lie to you, changing is always scary the first few times but you don’t have to do it alone. I can rally up the pack if ya need all of us or I can just keep this between you and me, but no matta what happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks Wally...” He sighed as he still dreaded what was to come. “How soon can you get them?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ta-daaaaa! Welcome to werewolves not-so-anonymous!”

Wally unfurled the crudely-made banner as Buddy walked into the break room, Susie clapped, Henry smiled and gave a friendly wave, and Lacie looked bored and unamused but gave a thumbs up and a half smile.

The gofer let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was holding in. Wally alone could’ve been an outlier among werewolves but not all of them. He knew most of these people; the voice actress was hands down one of the most infectiously cheerful people he’d ever met, The Head Artist was a patient and kind man who the gofer looked up to as both an artist and a father figure, and while he didn’t know the mechanic very well aside from the facts that she wasn’t the most friendly or social of people, she didn’t seem half bad.

These people weren’t monsters, he wasn’t a monster.

“Alright, I know a some of us here already know each other but others don’t so lets start ourselves off with some introductions. Who’s going first?”

“Okay. Hi, I’m Buddy, I’m the studio’s gofer and I got bitten pretty recently so I’m kinda scared about all of this...”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the day of the full moon, Henry rented a van with the intent to take the werewolf pack to a cabin in the woods so that Buddy’s first transformation would be in a secluded area.

“So how’d your folks take it?” Lacie inquired to break the silence. “They didn’t look happy when we picked you up.”

“They took it better than I expected, I guess?” The gofer sighed “I mean, my ma seemed pretty scared, but she seemed more scared for me than scared of me.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen...” Henry nodded.

“Guys, I have a question”

“Go for it.”

“If Sammy’s not a werewolf, then why is he coming with us? Wont he get turned?”

The music director rolled his eyes and took a very long sip from his coffee, he also wasn’t looking forward to tonight but for a very different reason.

“Nah... Don’t worry.” Lacie laid back and stuck her boots up on the dashboard. “Hell’s Songbird is cursed with something else so he’s immune to lycanthropy.”

Nobody noticed that the man had flinched at Lacie’s statement.

“...Is he basically an unofficial member of the pack?”

Wally and Susie’s eyes lit up at the question and they smiled at each other before answering.

“Yes.”

“Definitely.”

“Absolutely.”

Wally broke down laughing as Susie broke out her stage voice, even Buddy let out a soft chuckle at her dramatic movements.

“The grumpy banjo man is indeed the pack’s loyal brother, not by blood or spirit, but by true love-”

Said grumpy banjo man turned to face the back seat, the regular irritation in his voice gave way to a sarcastic, deadpan tone.

“If you people genuinely think I ‘love’ getting chewed, slobbered on, roughhoused with, pounced on, and ripped apart by a pack of near-mindless wild animals almost every single month, then you’ve probably been huffing too many ink fumes.”

“Yeah, yeah, so bein’ the ‘designated driver’ of da group isn’t always fun... But ya do it ‘cause you looooooooooove us!”

Henry sighed in a mix of annoyance and acceptance in a way that implied he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“I’m a married man.” Sammy continued to deadpan. “I thought you knew that by now.”

This response only egged Wally on.

“Psssst! He’s not denyin’ it!” The janitor stage-whispered “So it must be true!”

“Shut UP Franks.”

Sammy huffed and crossed his arms, but not denying Wally’s statement, which led to a loop of Wally’s teasing and Sammy’s fruitless attempts to shut the conversation down, which was only ended by reaching their destination.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buddy felt goosebumps as the van pulled up to the cabin and the sun slowly started to dip down.

“Here we are.”

“Finally! I swear, every single car ride I have with that. walking. headache. becomes the longest one I’ve ever endured.”

“Hey!”

The cabin itself probably looked like a much more warm and inviting place during midday, but as the shadows of the trees started to cast down on the humble little abode, it looked almost sinister. Although, that could’ve just been Buddy’s imagination working against him.

He hoped it was just his imagination working against him.

“Fuck, it’s gettin’ dark real fast.” The mechanic remarked as she looked at the sky. “Should we slap the meat on the grill now or just wait after we change and eat it raw?”

“We should wait.” The animator replied. “At this rate, if we try to cook it we’ll change before it’s halfway done.”

Buddy helped carry things into the cabin; a cooler, a couple of blankets, a duffle bag filled with dog toys and bones, they all seemed like reasonable items, but he couldn’t deny he felt something was missing.

“Hey Sammy, you’re looking out for us after we change, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So where are the ropes and chains? And isn’t there supposed to be bear traps and tranquilizers or something like them?”

The musician raised an eyebrow at the gofer.

“...Why would we need those?”

“...To tie us up and keep us from killing people?”

Sammy’s Jaw dropped at Buddy’s suggestion.

“Holy fucking shit... kid, you’re not turning into a monster, you’re just becoming a glorified puppy.”

“But you said it yourself, you get ripped up!”

“So?” Sammy scoffed. “That’s just what all dogs do.”

“He’s more of a cat person than a dog person.” Susie called out from the kitchen “Take everything he says about werewolves with a grain of salt.”

“Easy for you to say!” Sammy called back. “You’re not the one who had to cover over ninety-seven miles in different directions to round up a bunch of whimpering wolves because SOMEONE decided to set off a bunch of firecrackers just as the moon rose!”

“Hey!” Wally called out. “I said I was sorry!”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was time.

Like it or not, he was going to become a beast.

He knew the others’ own transformations were happening right now, he heard their bones snapping and cracking, the changing shadows cast on the floor as he dashed to his own room praying that he’d make it in time.

In the madness, he saw a glimpse of what Sammy’s curse was. He wished he didn’t see that, it would’ve so much easier to trust Sammy’s protection if he didn’t know that burden of the musician’s curse was like a werewolf’s curse except the ‘wolf’ part was scratched off and replaced with something else. The chill that ran down his spine when his eyes met the monster’s also didn’t help.

Buddy locked himself in his room, quickly taking off his clothes so they wouldn’t get ripped during the change and wrapping himself up in the provided blankets to keep himself from seeing his own transformation.

His heart pounded against his chest as he heard someone whimpering and scratching at the door on the other side.

“Focus, Buddy...” He tried to reassure himself. “Deep breaths, don’t get scared...”

He highly doubted he’d be lucid for his first full moon, but the idea of losing his mind and becoming a ravenous monster just didn’t sit well with him, So he tried his best to stay ‘awake’.

No matter how hard it was.

The curse started off his own changes with either his skin, his senses, or his mouth. He didn’t know for sure as it felt like all three were happening at once as he spat out a bloody mouthful of his own teeth into his hands and watched fur sprout up all over his arms, the taste and smell of blood in his mouth and on his now paw-like hands, as well as the smells and sounds of everything else in the cabin was overwhelmingly nauseating.

“D-don’t freak out... the others have been through this lots of times... this is completely normal... Stay calm Buddy...”

He tossed aside the teeth and threw himself deeper into the blanket pile in spite of his body’s increasing temperature and new fur coat. The gofer couldn’t tell if the whimpering he heard was coming from the other wolves scratching at the door or from him.

The next thing the curse went after was everything else; muscles, bones, etc.

It was painful, but at the very least it was fast, he didn’t even have the time to whine for mercy before the malevolent force of the werewolf curse stopped. Buddy let out a sigh of relief as he dug himself out of his blanket cocoon.

He looked at the mirror and saw a frightened looking young wolf, his eyes still looked human and his fur seemed to match the color of his hair. While he didn’t like looking at this and calling it his reflection, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. In spite of fear trying to drive him to the same level as a wild animal, he was still him.

Or so he thought as he was startled by the sound of his door unlocking itself and creaking open.

He let out a yipe and started to bare his teeth and growl at the weird beaked creature that poked its head into his territory. The said creature was not impressed in the slightest and simply came into the room.

Buddy growled louder and snapped his jaws at the creature, his ears laid back and his hackles bristling straight up. While the creature did move away from his bite, it was still not impressed. Out of desperation, he lunged at the black-feathered beast, desperately trying to scare it out but the monster looked like it had dealt with this before as it glided out of the way of his attack and picked him up by the scruff of his neck.

The young wolf flailed, bit, clawed, and snapped at the creature. But he could swear that the beast’s only response to Buddy’s last-ditch efforts to keep himself alive were to roll its eyes and toss the wolf out of the room.

And into the line of sight of two other wolves. Both adults, one of them had pitch black fur, the other one had dark gray fur, but both of them had curious almost human-like eyes.

Thankfully, they smelled familiar to him. Even as a human, he could always recognize the smells of cleaning supplies, bacon soup, and ink. As he got a little bit more used to his new senses, while most of the smells and sounds were still new, and there was too much of it, he could at least identify what they were.

The black wolf came closer to him and sniffed his face before licking it. The other wolf pawed the first wolf’s face away from his own. Assuming that this was just some kind of greeting, Buddy sniffed the first wolf’s face and licked him back, the second wolf let out a noise that sounded like an amused snort.

THUNK

A loud noise from the kitchen that came with a new smell made him realize how hungry he was. Assumingly all thinking the same thing, the three wolves dashed into the kitchen to see the toppled-over cooler being raided by two other wolves. The bird like creature was biting and flapping its wings at them, clearly trying to keep them away from the coveted red meats the cooler held.

“STOP. EATING. PLASTIC!” The creature cried out to deaf ears of the pack. “YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURSELVES SICK! JUST WAIT FOR ME TO UNWRAP THEM FIRST!”

This tyranny would not stand with the wolves, united as a pack, the five starved beasts joined forces against the giant bird-monster that stayed between them and their food.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buddy woke up groaning with a headache, sore muscles, and an upset stomach the next morning.

Last night was a blur to the gofer, like a dream, the most of what happened during the full moon quickly faded from his mind as he woke up. If it wasn’t for the fact he could still see the bird-monster form of the music director looming over him in the cabin’s rafters, he would’ve chalked the whole thing up to just be a bad dream.

“Sammy?” He groaned. “What happened last night?”

“As soon as I opened the door, all of you ran to the fields instead of the woods.” The music director sounded like he was too tired to be irritated. “I tried to steer you back towards the woods because there was a barn over there, but as usual, none of you listened to me.” Okay, maybe he was still a little bit irritated.

“Oh no... Did I eat anything there?”

“No, but you did get your head stuck underneath a fence and whined until I let you out.”

Buddy blushed in embarrassment as he wrapped his blanket tighter around him.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, everybody does stupid things the first time they change.”

“So how come you didn’t change back?”

“My curse isn’t determined by the moon, it’s determined by... other things. I don’t like talking about it.”

Sammy wrapped himself up in his wings, ending the conversation.

“G’morning.” Wally set down a fizzing glass of water by Buddy, the Janitor looked more exhausted now than he did after a 12-hour deep clean of the studio. “Ya might wanna drink that, it’ll help with the headache.”

“Thanks Wally.”

He smiled as he sipped down the liquid, while the gofer knew that the changes weren’t going to be easy for him to adjust to, at least he had other people who were willing to help him through it.

#hauntober #moonlight #bendy and the ink machine #batim monster au #buddy lewek #wally franks #susie campbell #lacie benton #Henry Stein #sammy lawrence #fanfic #it's werewolf time lads #body horror #took all night to write this

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Colony of Gotham (5/7)

The Colony of Gotham is an urban legend that is whispered about in the dangerous city. It’s said the Colony is a family of demons and spirits that stalk the night, hunting for the souls of the guilty.

When Bruce became Batman, he’d never intended to be mistaken for a demon. He was happy to lean into it, though, and as he gained his partners – as his family grew – they all followed suit.

First Part ~ Previous Part ~ Next Part

Vampires’ animal forms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The zeta had barely finished announcing the departure of the speedsters to Gotham when a hissing voice echoed through the Watchtower.

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have done that. But I’m sure they’ll come out in mostly one piece. Maybe not alive but probably one piece. Shame. They didn't seem too bad. For heroes.”

Everyone was immediately on their feet and in fighting stances. Wonder Woman demanded to know who was there and the voice announced itself as Pythia the Coded Serpent, Oracle of Gotham and Advisor to the Colony. For a moment, every screen around them flicked to an image of a python with dark green feathers in the place of scales and looming shadow-like bat wings stretching out from it. Its empty white eyes stared them down, then it was gone and when they tried to speak to the voice, it didn’t answer. They tried to contact the speedsters and Tigress, but their calls wouldn’t go through. Zatanna tried to dispel whatever magic the serpent had used, but couldn’t. Without any idea where the speedsters had gone, all the older heroes could do was sit and wait.

Meanwhile, Young Justice and Supergirl immediately sent messages to Tim, Stephanie, and Bette, asking them to let them know if they saw Wally and Bart and got thumbs up emojis in response.

The three did not text them when Wally and Bart arrived at the manor.

Instead, they stayed hidden in the cave with Barbara and watched Dick tell them Tim was out before giving them both a dumbfounded expression when they asked him about Batman.

“Bat-who?”

He waved off all their questions, saying Batman was just a myth and he wouldn’t have told Wally if he’d known the stories would spook him like that. All the same, the spooky stories had been banned from the manor for the time being since Cass had started to have nightmares lately. They kept trying to get him to talk, but he soon received a text and had to leave to pick up Carrie from a friend’s house.

When the speedsters got back to the Watchtower no worse for wear without even seeing a bat, they all thought Pythia was just bluffing.

Then they found a small, bat-shaped listening device on Kid Flash’s boot. No one could explain how it had gotten there. No one, not even Dick, had gotten close to him while he was in Gotham.

Then again, few people notice Cass when she doesn’t want them to.

Over the course of the following week, the same kind of bugs were found by all the heroes who’d been at the meeting, and some who weren’t. And it wasn’t always when they were suited up. Lois Lane, Superman’s wife, found one in the pocket of a pair of his lazy jeans, Troia found one stuck to her work camera, and one of the Green Lanterns stormed into the Watchtower, cursing out Superman and Wonder Woman for ticking off demons after he’d found one on his ring. The only relief they could find was that none of the bugs were turned on, but it was a small relief.

The message was clear: The Colony knew exactly who they were and could get to them without them ever knowing they were there.

The only ones who didn’t receive bugs were Flash -- who was happy to say, “I told you so!” to anyone who brought it up -- and Tigress -- who left any time someone brought up the Colony. The one and only time someone tried to stop her, she flipped them over her shoulder then said, “I wouldn’t pick a fight with Joker so I’m sure as hell not messing with the only thing that can take him down. Leave. Batman. Be.”

Safe to say, by the end of the week everyone was jumping at shadows.

Which meant the call they received was a bit overkill.

Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash, Wonder Girl, and Nightwing were debriefing after a joint mission between the League and Young Justice when all the screens in the room filled with static and the lights dimmed halfway. The largest screen then lit up with the image of a figure. Most of him couldn’t be seen, the dark patches of hair, mask, and suit blending into the shadows that surrounded him, but this only made his pale face and the bright blue streak on his chest and arms stand out more. Black lips split into a sharp smile as the creature realized he had their attention.

He greeted them each in turn, reaching Nightwing last and referring to him as “Copycat.”

“Nightwing?” Superman said, stepping towards the screen.

“In the flesh. Or as close to it as I come. Well, sort of. Got a little help from Pythia.”

If the group had looked at some of the other screens, they might have noticed the shapes of serpents moving through the static. Unfortunately, no one dared look away from the man so Barbara’s hard work went unnoticed.

“What do you want?”

The spirit’s head tilted to the side, slipping past his shoulder in a way that made his neck look broken. “Wasn’t that obvious?” He chirped. Then his head was straight up and he wasn’t smiling. “I’m here to warn you. Stay out of Gotham. If anyone wanted you here, they would have asked. And the little magic kid doesn’t count. As any Gothamite would tell you: Gotham problems are Gotham’s problem. Get lost, Metropolis.”

Flash couldn’t help but snort, having heard those last three words more times than he could count from both his partners. He regretted it instantly when he felt the spirit turn his attention to him, though he couldn’t tell you how he knew when all he could see where his eyes should have been was void.

The demon’s lips pulled up into a smile again, but this one was less fangs and more mischief. “You should take my words seriously. I had planned to leave my Flamebird alone until it was time for us to be together again. But if you keep it up, I might just need to steal my fire away now.”

“Flamebird?” Superman asked.

“My love,” the spirit answered, though he kept his attention on Flash. “I recently found my fire in Blüdhaven. Such a beauty, as I’m sure you can all attest. After all, Flamebird is one of you.”

Before anyone could respond, he was gone. As the screens and lights returned to normal, they turned to each other. Flash was pale as he started wringing his hands. Nightwing barely started to ask what was wrong before Flash started fretting about how Tigress must have been the one the spirit meant. They lived in Blüdhaven together and no one else in the League was recorded as living there. Her blonde hair and orange suit and fiery attitude must have made the spirit think she was Flamebird. They had to do something!

They called Tigress up and showed her a recording of the video Wonder Girl had smartly taken. She glared at all of them as the video progressed and when Flash worried over her she rolled her eyes. She was from Gotham. She knew the Colony. If they came for her, they came for her. Worrying wasn’t going to do anything to stop people that managed to slip past their defenses time and again. The only concession she agreed to was asking Dick if he’d be alright staying at the manor for a few nights so they could have some personal time.

It wasn’t unusual. They each had stayed elsewhere on a few occasions since they’d moved in together. Sometimes they just needed time as a pair instead of a trio. As such, Dick agreed easily.

Despite her calm attitude, something about the video bothered Artemis. As they went home and readied for bed, it replayed over and over in her head. She didn’t recognize his voice, but something about the way he talked nagged at her. The quirk of his smile tugged at her brain. The way he’d focused on Wally then immediately started in on Flamebird after the speedster had snorted seemed strange too. The way he was teasing Wally, taunting him, it didn’t feel malevolent. More like he was screwing with him.

Artemis shot up in bed. “Goddamit Dick, you little troll!”

Wally woke up at her scream and jumped to his feet, looking around for trouble. When he didn’t see anything, he turned to her, only to see her pulling on sweatpants. He asked what was going on and she told him they needed to see Dick immediately. He tried to argue, but she just made him put on some clothes before dragging him out of the apartment. Once in the car, he complained about how he shouldn’t be getting punished when Dick was the one in trouble then nodded off until they reached the manor.

Artemis was already at the door by the time he climbed out of the car so he didn’t hear what she said to Jason when he let them in.

“So which demon spirit are you?”

He does notice when Jason grabs them both and hauls them around the mansion, through a secret door, and down into some giant cave.

He doesn’t know why it’s happening, but he is awake enough to register that it is happening.

They both end up tied to chairs with a serious Jason, a cheerful Cass, and an annoyed Tim standing over them.

“So what do we do with them?” Tim asked and Jason pulled out a gun.

Suddenly Wally was wide awake. “Woah, okay, what is happening? Where are we and why is Jason going to shoot us?”

“He’s not,” Cass said, which wasn’t very reassuring considering she was speaking over Jason’s, “You know too much.”

“Who knows too much?” Cullen asked, strolling in. He looked over the two captives and shrugged. “Come on, Cass. Time to go home. Leave the others to their games.”

Cass pouted, but followed her older brother out after giving Artemis and Wally a friendly wave.

“So what do we do with them?” Tim repeated.

Artemis proceeded to curse them both out now that there were no children in the vicinity before demanding to see Dick.

Jason’s response was to aim the gun between her eyes and pull the trigger.

Once she had a faceful of glitter, he said he’d go get Dick. He ignored her cursing as he swaggered back the way they’d come.

“Should have called the idiot and made him come to us,” she growled and Tim agreed. She shook her head to try to get rid of some of the glitter, to no avail.

“No, seriously, what is happening?”

“Your death.”

Wally shrieked and vibrated straight through his bonds. He spun around and found himself face to face with a giggling Carrie. Except that the voice coming from her was not her voice.

He looked at the others to see Tim was amused and Artemis was done. It was at that point that he took in the cave. His eyes widened. “Oh.”

Jason and Dick arrived, the latter looking sheepish. Artemis immediately tore into him.

“In my defense, you guys didn’t exactly tell me about your secret lives either.”

“You ALREADY KNEW!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me. And hey, at least I told you I was a vampire.”

Both took a second to think about that as they realized they probably should have connected the large family filled with creatures of darkness to the creatures of darkness running around protecting Gotham.

“You still didn’t need to be a dick about it.” Dick opened his mouth at Artemis’s words. “Oh shut up, you know what I meant!”

As it hit Wally just how much the family had been messing with the League, he smirked. “You know what would really freak the League out?”

“No,” Artemis said as the siblings perked up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Young Justice were all hanging out in the Watchtower’s canteen, waiting for Kid Flash so they could have a team meeting, when Tigress came in to ask Troia and Aquaman if they’d seen Flash. Apparently, he’d left early that morning to check on their partner before monitor duty then disappeared. The last anyone had heard from him was when he’d asked Captain Marvel to fill in for him shortly after he’d left Tigress. She had called their partner, but apparently Flash had never shown up.

That was when Kid Flash raced in, looking terrified.

Flash had called him in the early morning and left a voicemail, but he had only just seen the message because his phone had died. When he’d charged it enough to turn on, he’d listened to the message and…

“Hey, kid. Wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch after I get off duty today. I’m getting to the manor now so I can ask Dick and Tim if they want to come too. Call me wh-Oh shi-What are you do-”

“Hello, my flame.”

Troia and Aquaman immediately sent a call out to everyone connected to the Batman case. No one was pleased to realize Nightwing thought Flamebird was Flash, not Tigress like they’d assumed. When the group checked, they found that the call came ten minutes before the one to Captain Marvel and came from the edge of Wayne Manor’s property line.

Hearing this, the team all spammed Tim with texts checking to see if he was okay.

The bird, having grown tired of all their smothering, sent them a picture of himself flipping them off with a caption saying he wasn’t a child and could take care of himself. He was from Gotham, not Metropolis. He then turned his phone off so he wouldn’t have to see their demeaning fretting.

If he hadn’t, he would have seen the group panicking over a shadow behind him that they were convinced was one of the Colony. Without the others noticing, the five snuck away to Gotham. Tim was less than pleased when he opened the door.

“Since when do you open the door for yourself?” Jinny asked.

“Since Alfred’s in England and Bruce and Selina are on their honeymoon. Why are you guys here?” Cassie showed him the picture and he slapped his forehead. “I knew you guys were getting paranoid, but this is ridiculous. That is my jacket.”

They refused to believe him so he offered to bring them up to his room to prove it. They made it halfway there before the sounds of thumps had him turning around to see them all unconscious on the floor, Jason and Cass standing over them.

“Seriously, Jason? Stop kidnapping everyone! You're ruining the bit!”

“You and Dickie are the ones who decided to drag your friends into what was supposed to be a family thing.”

“I told them I was fine! They’re the ones who just showed up for no reason!”

“You’re just mad Artemis isn’t here too,” Dick said as he and Wally walked up.

“Shut up, Dickhead. She’d kick all our asses if we dragged her into this and you know it. Now help me get them to the cave.”

“Definitely pouting,” Dick whispered to Wally and Jason slugged him.

#batman #batfam #colony of gotham #fanfiction

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heysoup · 3 years

Text

Fluffy February Day 2 - Movie Night

Reminder to follow @fluffyfebruary to see the prompt list and that I’ll be using the tags #fluffyfebruary and #fluffyfeb for these.

Continuing the fics with day two! I’m super proud of this one; It’s dripping with fluff and teenage angst. Warning for potential secondhand embarrassment - they’re both idiots in love and have no idea how to show it.

Chapter 2: Films and Fears

Pairing: Butch/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: Dealing with life in the vault can be tough, especially for an outcast like Jamie. When he befriends Butch through his G.O.A.T. assignment, however, the two make their own safe place. Butch decides to surprise him there one day with the promise of treasure, and it leads to something more than they both expect.

Ao3 Link

Jamie tosses and turns in his rat’s nest of a bed. It’s midnight – he’s too hot, the vault’s ventilation system’s groaning is echoing around him like a damn chorus, and his sheets keep scratching uncomfortably against his clammy skin. He brings his wrist close to his face to mindlessly check his Pip-Boy for the millionth time that night, his arm feeling as heavy as lead, and he squints at the fluorescent light of the screen as he taps it awake.

Though Butch showed him a few times before, it still takes him a moment to remember the right sequence of buttons to push to unlock developer’s mode and navigate to the messaging tab the other boy set up for them. It’s only been about a month since Butch found an old Pip-Boy manual in Stanley’s locker and got this trick to work, but already there’s a considerable backlog of messages between the two.

Jamie scrolls through them with the dial on his Pip-Boy, worrying the skin of his lower lip with his teeth as he reads through some of the older messages. It’s become a new habit for him on these particularly rough sleepless nights. When he’s too exhausted to write in his journal, draw, or jump around his room in an attempt to tire himself out; he talks to Butch.

If someone had told him a year ago that Butch DeLoria, his childhood bully and teenage rival, would be one of his only sources of solace these days he would have called them insane. Turns out, giving the vault’s two delinquents deadbeat jobs with no supervision and shoving them in the same closet of a studio space could make them form a pretty strange alliance. The enemy of my enemy and all of that, right?

It also doesn’t help that Amata is forever busy with her new duties as overseer’s assistant – or whatever her job title is actually called. Jamie misses her like he’s lost a part of himself, and even though he knows she’s not locked away with her father by choice he can’t help the nagging part of his brain that is convinced she abandoned him.

Butch is dealing with the same thing, though with less consequence. His fellow Tunnel Snakes are relatively busy with their new jobs – Wally as a security guard and Paul as an engineer – but they still make some time to see each other. Butch is just one of those people who needs constant attention, which is where Jamie supposes he comes in handy. He tries not to think too hard about it.

He’s is snickering to himself while he reads some messages sent a few weeks back during one of their spats, most of which were petty insults and some pretty creative curses, when a new message blips through and pulls his screen to attention.

913473: nosebleed u up?

Perfect timing, Jamie thinks, sitting up in his bed to type. The 6-digit code is what Butch called his Pip-ID – apparently every Pip-Boy comes with one coded in by default. It was weird at first, trying to memorize the numbers and calm his own paranoia at the thought of someone hacking into their conversations, but Butch said that their numbers were for their Pip-Boys alone, so Jamie trusted him. The horrible, agitated crawling under his skin that was keeping him up all night begins to fade as he replies.

604272: didja even have to ask? 913473: just say yes or no damn 604272: k. no 913473: oh fuck off

Jamie can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him, and he grins like a complete idiot down at the screen.

913473: if ur done being an ass i have somethin for us to do 913473: if u aint busy of course 913473: meet at the place? 604272: sure. be there in 10

He switches his Pip-Boy screen off and hops out of bed, stretching languorously before grabbing his jumpsuit from where he left it earlier that day in a heap on the floor. He tugs it on leg by leg and zips it up before checking himself in the mirror.

His hair is a mop of curls on his head and he does his best to smooth it down, knowing Butch will scold him for not using the correct conditioner to tame his flyaways like he showed him. The bags under his eyes are a bit darker than usual, but there’s nothing to be done about that. He shrugs to himself and turns to the door. No point in being too self-conscious about his appearance this late at night – isn’t like this is a date or anything, he tells himself.

He doesn’t bother being quiet as he leaves his room, knowing his dad would still be working at the clinic or at the very least passed out there on one of the cots. He doesn’t come home much these days.

Jamie shoves his boots on, not even bothering with socks, and peers out of the thick window into the hallway. It seems empty, so he hits the button and creeps out through the door.

The neon blue emergency lights that run along the edges of the ceiling and floor greet him when he steps out of his apartment. He shoves his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit, and peers around the corner before continuing his path. The door closes not-so-softly behind him and he walks down the hall past the restrooms that separate his and Butch’s apartments. He stops momentarily outside the door to the DeLoria’s apartment, noticing it’s dark and quiet inside.

Butch must already be down there, Jamie thinks, picking up his pace as much as he could without making too much noise. Despite the constant creaking and rumbling of the vault’s ventilation and reactor systems the halls at night could carry quite an echo, and his boots aren’t the quietest things to sneak around in.

Patrols were lax recently but knowing his luck he’d get caught breaking curfew and would have to clean the bathrooms again. He briefly regrets not wearing socks because he refuses to take his boots off and walk barefoot on the cold steel floor, even if it is quieter.

Further down the hallway and a bit past the occupied wing of apartments, Jamie stops at the top of a short set of stairs that lead down to a small corridor with one door. A large INACCESSIBLE sign glows ominously above it, and in the corner of the hallway facing the stairwell is a single security camera. It rotates at a snail’s pace, its gears clicking audibly with every circuit it makes of the dead-end hallway.

Jamie ducks down near the wall at the top of the stairs, watching the camera as he has so many times before to study its crawling path. When Butch had discovered this place, they figured out a way to tilt the camera up ever so slightly with the handle of a broom from their shop – creating about thirty seconds of a blind spot to get them from the stairs and through the door without getting caught if they hugged the left wall.

Peering down the hallways around him one more time to make sure no patrols were coming; Jamie types a quick message into his Pip-Boy.

604272: here

He waits a few moments until he hears a couple sharp raps on the metal door down the way, telling him that Butch is there whenever he’s ready. Jamie waits a few more moments and listens to the camera click back into its blind spot before he hops down the stairs, staying low and to the left as he stalks toward the door. He hits it lightly with his palm when he gets there, and it slides open. He has just enough time to duck inside, slamming his fist on the button to shut it just as he hears the security camera restart its rotation.

“You’re still gonna act like it's some big heist no matter how many times we come down here, huh?” Jamie turns around in the darkness and is met with Butch’s grin, a bottle of beer already in one of his fists. His Pip-Boy light is on, basking them in a dim green glow.

“Keeps it interesting,” he replies, punching Butch playfully on the arm. On this side of the door is a long flight of stairs and they continue further down into the pitch darkness, hands pressing along the walls for purchase with nothing but about three feet of lighting in front of them.

The emergency lights are shut off down here, along with the security cameras – probably to save power, so Jamie turns his Pip-Boy light on as well. It’s a bit brighter, but not by much. They’ve been down here enough times by now that their bodies remember how many steps there are, but Jamie always has a nagging fear in the back of his mind that one day the staircase will just keep going forever. He shakes that thought from his head, listening to the sound of their boots stomping down the steps and focusing his gaze on Butch’s free hand as it slides against the railing.

For the past month or so this has been their escape. Butch somehow figured out how to break into the door they just passed through, and they discovered a whole wing of abandoned apartments under the ones they were currently living in. So far all they had done was clear out one room that had a ratty old couch, some blankets, a broken Nuka Cola mini-fridge, and a few wooden storage crates in it. Jamie had also rigged up a small emergency generator and they were able to find some lamps to make it a little less depressing.

Most importantly, they had booze smuggled from Butch’s mom’s liquor stash, a few cartons of cigarettes they’d traded with Stevie for some chems Jamie snuck from his dad’s clinic, their collection of comic books, and Jamie’s old BB gun for when they got bored. It’s far from perfect, but it’s space, and when you’re destined to roam the same hallways with the same people for the rest of your miserable existence – that amounts to a lot.

“So, what are we actually doing?” Jamie asks as they turn into the apartment they’d claimed as their base. Butch has the generator running and the room smells thickly of his peach pomade and cigarette smoke – he must have been down here for a few hours already.

“I,” Butch begins, stopping to pull the cork out of his new bottle of beer with his teeth before spitting it on the floor and taking a swig, “am gonna show you some treasure.” He finishes with a flourish, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and plops down onto the couch next to his discarded Tunnel Snake jacket.

Jamie snorts and pulls up a crate, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch and propping his feet up. He clicks his tongue in mock annoyance when Butch’s boots crowd his own on the small surface and, in a fruitless endeavor, they battle for leg space before giving in to sharing. It’s obvious the other boy is already a bit tipsy.

“Treasure, huh? That’s cool, I guess,” Jamie snickers, snatching the bottle of beer from Butch and downing some before he could protest. It burns in his throat and brings a comforting warmth to his chest. He continues nursing the drink and settles further back into the worn corduroy couch, his posture absolutely terrible. Butch reaches for another bottle.

“Yup.” The bottle pops open and another cork joins the pile growing on the floor. Another drink and an obnoxious burp, then Butch sits forward - feet falling to the floor, his hands on his knees, and an excited light in his eyes. His leg is bouncing incessantly.

“Listen, I was going through some rooms down here and I found an old projector – like the one Brotch has?” He glances at Jamie, blue eyes a soft, dreamy color in the low light, and Jamie can’t help but gulp at the intensity he sees there. When Butch has a plan he’s excited about, he turns into a different person – like all the stress of conforming to the monotony of vault life has washed away and he’s finally allowed to be the mischievous and passionate person hiding underneath it all. Or… something like that. Jamie’s waxing poetic again, something he can’t help but do when around Butch.

“That’s pretty cool,” is all Jamie can bring himself to breathe out as he sips on his beer. He picks at the loose threads on the arm of the couch as he tries not to think about the fact that Butch had his lips on this same bottle just a few seconds ago.

Butch deflates a bit. “Pretty cool?” he mocks, leaning closer. Okay, maybe he’s more drunk than Jamie had first thought, if the redness of his cheeks were any indication.

“Nosebleed, I found full on ho-lo-disks,” Butch emphasizes, blowing a few messy curls away from his forehead. Jamie just shrugs.

“Okay?” he begins, not seeing the big deal. They already have these things in the classroom. “What’re we gonna do, watch some lectures? Don’t tell me DeLoria wants to brush up on his studying,” he taunts.

Butch just sneers at him in response, standing up and only swaying a bit – much to Jamie’s surprise. “You have no imagination, dweeb. Stay here!” And with that, he storms out of the room and into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Jamie can see the green light of his Pip-Boy flash on through the window as he walks further away into the dark.

It’s a few minutes before he comes back, and Jamie can hear the ruckus he’s causing before he sees him. He’s startled out of his comfortable position on the couch and perks up. The door slides open and Butch pushes the projector into their base on its rolling cart. One of the wheels must be rusted because its screeching like a damn rat, scraping against the metal flooring as he drags it to the center of the room. He grabs an old cardboard box from the lower shelf of the cart and slides it on the floor over to Jamie with his foot before going back to set the projector up with their tangled mess of extension cords.

Jamie picks it up and grimaces at the box – it’s a little rank and it feels crusty in some spots. “This thing is probably covered in like a hundred different types of mold,” he complains.

“Didn’t give it to ya so you could judge the box!” Butch snaps, banging the top of the projector impatiently when the power flickers. “Open the damn thing.”

Jamie places the box on the couch beside him and sits up, peeling it open to peer inside. His jaw drops in amazement at the sight – more holodisks than he’s ever seen in his life, all with unique and eye-catching, full-color illustrations on the covers. He stares at Butch in disbelief and catches the other boy staring at him, an unabashed, beaming smile on his face when he sees Jamie’s reaction. When their eyes meet, Butch clears his throat and snaps his attention back to the projector, fiddling with some dials that don’t seem to change anything.

“Cool, right?” He says, his ears turning red as he dismisses his earlier excitement with a sheepish shrug.

“It’s fucking great!” Jamie laughs and begins to rummage through the box. There are real films in here, like he’s only read about in pre-war history classes or his cheesy novels. Aside from a whole slew of superhero films starring characters like The Silver Shroud and even some of Grognak the Barbarian, there are titles that look like they’re about pre-war animals in different parts of the world, some with soldiers in power armor, some ancient recordings of sports, and what looks like a few western and sci-fi films

Butch walks back over and sits beside him, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and leaning in to look at the titles. Jamie’s breath hitches at his closeness and he can feel his cheeks heating up. He tries not to show it, leaning in ever so slightly to let their shoulders brush.

“You can pick first, my treat,” Butch says while gesturing to the patchwork sheet he’d hung up on the opposite wall of the small apartment – Butch must have stitched it together himself out of whatever excess fabric he found. It’s hanging a little crooked and the projector’s STAND BY image is a bit fuzzy, but a bubble of excitement forms in Jamie’s chest regardless. He doesn’t want to read too far into things, but Butch had found this and made it a surprise specifically for them to share. That made him feel a certain kind of way.

He blinks those embarrassing thoughts away and nods, his face warm. Looking over their choices carefully, he finally decides and picks the western – he always did have a fondness for the freedom that seemed to come with being a cowboy – and walks to the projector to pop it in and press play.

He half expects Butch to make fun of his choice, but the other boy is oddly quiet, carefully inspecting his fingernails as Jamie switches off the lamps and kicks off his boots before returning to sit cross-legged on the couch. Butch still hasn’t scooted further away or removed his arm from the back of the couch, so their knees bump and he can feel the warmth of Butch’s arm behind his neck and it sends prickles through his skin.

Only as the movie begins do they realize they don’t have any speakers hooked up – so it’s completely silent in the room other than the whirring of the film in the projector.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Butch sighs and shakes his head in disappointment. Jamie just laughs.

“It’s still cool,” he assures him. “They used to have silent movies all the time apparently – especially back in cowboy days. It’s authentic,” he purses his lips at the end, trying to do his best impression of Mr. Brotch. It seems to work because Butch cracks a grin at him and snorts.

“Sure, it’ll work for now, but I saw some terminals in another apartment down here. We can check for some speakers there later,” Butch says and then his playful grin becomes roguish. “Push comes to shove, we can just swipe one from upstairs. Who’d notice a missing speaker?”

Jamie just scoffs and elbows him, turning his attention back to the film as the title screen fades in and he reads, ‘High Lonesome.’ He didn’t bother to read what the film was about, but it opens with a group of people in a wagon on a vast desert plain with plateaus towering in the distance.

There isn’t too much to see at first, but one thing that sticks with him is the impossible vastness of the sky as the camera zooms out to show a wider view of the prairie they’re riding along. He’s seen pictures of the sky, sure, but something about watching the tiny silhouettes of people move around under it was chilling – it was huge and incredibly empty. He didn’t know if what he was feeling was amazement or terror.

Despite the film being in black and white, the shimmer of the sun on the horses’ flanks as they gallop is bright enough to seem real and Jamie is completely entranced as he watches. And, luckily enough, there seem to be subtitles, so they’ll still be able to understand what’s going on.

Jamie’s trance is momentarily broken when Butch leans down and grabs something from under the couch. He returns with a box of fancy lads which he presses into Jamie’s hands. Jamie mumbles his thanks, his eyes never leaving the picture as he tears into a package and shoves a whole powdery cake into his mouth.

Butch just laughs at him and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lights one just as the young cowboy on screen does – much to Jamie’s delight – and they chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

They pass the snacks, beer, and smokes back and forth between each other as they watch their movies. When the western is over, Butch picks a film called ‘Teenage Caveman,’ saying that it has to be good because the cover has tits and a giant lizard monster on it. It ends up being the worst piece of garbage they’ve ever seen – and that’s saying a lot considering they’ve only seen one other film in their whole lives.

“That dude didn’t even look like a teenager! He had to be like thirty,” Jamie says, tossing the film into a box they decide to label ‘shit.’ According to Butch, they were like pioneers and had to record their findings, so not only were they watching the films, but they were sorting them from best to worst. As Butch had put it in his best overseer impression, they were doing future vault residents a great service and fulfilling their civic duty… by saving others from watching total pieces of trash.

“There wasn’t even a single boob,” Butch mopes, snubbing out the last of his cigarette in the cracked coffee mug functioning as their makeshift ashtray. “Talk about false advertising. The giant lizards were kinda cool, though.” Jamie smacks him upside the head.

“You wouldn’t know what a boob looked like if it smacked you in the face.”

“You take that back!” Butch laughs and tosses their snacks on the floor, lunging for Jamie who’s cackling just as hard. They’re fucking hammered at this point and they roll off the couch into a heap on the floor, knocking a crate over as they grapple at each other. They wrestle like this sometimes – it’s a great outlet for Jamie’s aggressive energy and, when they’re less drunk, Butch actually teaches him how to kick ass. Now, they’re just breathless laughs and fumbling hands as they scramble for purchase on the floor and try their damnedest to pin the other down.

Butch may be stronger on a normal day, but at the moment he’s piss-drunk compared to Jamie who still has a bit of his wits about him. He flips the taller boy over so quickly it’s almost comical and pins him, pressing his knees against his thighs and holding his wrists at his sides to stop him from getting up. He laughs triumphantly.

“What’s wrong, Butchie? You’ve never lost a fight so fast!” He grins down at the boy smugly but stops short when he sees the look on Butch’s face. It’s endearing how red his cheeks are, his hair a mess and his blue eyes wide. Butch just fixes him with those piercing baby blues.

“Don’t get cocky, Nosebleed. I let ya do it,” he says in a soft voice, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Jamie’s mouth goes dry, his eyes fixed on Butch’s unbelievably pink lips. He hates himself for how much he wants to kiss him then and without thinking he begins to lean forward. He catches himself, though, and his thoughts have him jumping off of Butch and falling back against the couch like he’s been shocked, his chest heaving. He feels dizzy and he can still smell the earthy spice of the other boy’s aftershave enveloping him like a thick haze he can’t shake.

Butch laughs and pulls himself up into a sitting position, shooting Jamie a dazzling grin from his seat on the floor. “What’s wrong, Jamie?” Butch teases, his voice only a bit slurred and a shit-eating grin creeping its way onto his face. Hearing his name come from Butch is rare and it knocks the breath out of him. All he can do is stare.

Butch clambers ungracefully back up to the couch with him, leaning awfully close and whispering, “cat got your tongue?” His breath is warm on Jamie’s face and it smells like a mixture of smoke and alcohol, something he never thought would smell so intoxicating, but of course it does – it’s Butch.

Jamie’s heart is in his fucking throat and he can’t breathe. Butch is pressed against his side and his back is against the arm of the couch. There’s nowhere for him to escape to – not that he necessarily wants to, but he was never very good with facing his feelings. Either Butch is actively trying to flirt with him or he’s fucking around, and Jamie can’t decide which one is worse.

“You’re drunk, you idiot,” Jamie laughs weakly and goes to push Butch away by the chest but stops when he feels his heart pounding under his t-shirt. The other boy’s breath hitches and his body stiffens at Jamie’s touch, his lips parting as if he were trying to think of what to say.

“So are you,” Butch finally settles with, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Jamie’s wrist. His touch almost feels like it burns. They sit like that for a moment, staring at each other, eyes like fire.

The generator chooses that moment to shut off, leaving them in pitch darkness. Out of instinct, Jamie curls his fingers into Butch’s shirt, his ears ringing at the sudden silence in the room and his breathing becoming labored. Darkness feels suffocating to him sometimes, and this is one of those moments. It lays over them like a thick blanket, and the only thing that pulls him out of his internal panic is Butch’s free hand cupping the back of his head, fingers twining through the thick, curly hair at the nape of his neck.

He doesn’t even have time to think about what Butch might be doing before he feels the press of the other boy’s lips warm against his own. Though they’re unbelievably soft, the kiss is rushed and clumsy – desperate almost – and Jamie grunts when their teeth knock together. He wastes no time returning the kiss, though, his eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on the feel of Butch’s lips against his own and the rough burn of his stubble as it brushes against his chin.

It must have just been a power surge, because suddenly the generator kicks back on and the projector screen lights up the room. Their eyes fly open and they wrench apart, still holding onto each other as if for dear life. Whatever safety they felt shrouded in the darkness is ripped away and they’re left feeling vulnerable and exposed. Jamie’s breath comes out in stutters and he dares to glance up at the other boy.

Butch’s eyes are filled with a fiery heat he can’t even describe and something akin to tenderness – which is hard for him to pinpoint since he’s never been looked at like that before. He sucks in a sharp breath. For some reason, even though he’s been dreaming of this moment for months, he just feels terrified and embarrassed – like he fucked up somehow. The panic must be written clearly on his face because Butch pulls away like he’s been slapped and falls back to the other end of the couch.

“Sh-shit, I,” Butch stutters, his hand clutching his chest where Jamie’s was a moment before, “fuck, Jamie, I didn’t mean to.” His voice cracks, sounding almost pleading. Jamie doesn’t know what to say, his mouth flapping uselessly, and it’s too much for him to handle. He doesn’t understand what his problem is. Everything in his heart is telling him to leap forward and continue kissing Butch, but he’s just too fucking scared.

“It’s fine!” He practically snaps, standing up suddenly. He’s shaking and feels clammy and he’s sure he’s as pale as a ghost – is it even possible for something good to give you a panic attack?

He glances around for his boots for a moment, but it’s still too much and he can see Butch starting to reach for him with concern in his eyes. “I have to go,” he blurts out, and he turns tail and runs.

The last thing he hears before he leaves is Butch yelling his name, but he jogs up the steps in the darkness, tripping over his own feet and bruising his knees. He knows he’s acting like a child, but he can’t bring himself to care. He is absolutely not ready to face what’s happening and he needs to be alone in his room now.

When he reaches the door, he doesn’t even stop to think about the security camera on the other side, he just slams his fist on the button and rushes out and thankfully luck is on his side this time because he can hear the camera click into the end of its circuit.

He slows down when he reaches the halls, his bare feet making a lot less noise than his boots, but fuck the floor is cold and he regrets not stopping to find his shoes. Soon he reaches his apartment, and he rushes inside, thankful to see that it’s still empty. He locks himself in his own bedroom, suddenly feeling like everything is too much, and he rips his jumpsuit off, flopping onto his bed in just his tank top and boxers and pulling the covers over his head.

He wants to scream, maybe tear his hair out a little or punch the wall. He cannot believe how badly he fucked that up. He doesn’t even know what this means for their friendship – if he had tried to make a move on Butch and the other boy ran away, he would be devastated! Would Butch even want to talk to him anymore? He worries over these thoughts for a few hours until his brain feels like jelly. The last thing he’s aware of before falling asleep is how his lips taste ever-so-slightly like the sweet mint chap stick Butch always carries around.

---

He wakes up later to the sound of incessant beeping coming from his wrist. He groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes and down his face. He feels like complete shit – hungover, most likely, and his head is swimming.

He looks at his Pip-Boy to check the time and realizes he’s overslept. It’s two in the afternoon and he’s late for his work assignment at the studio but if he’s being honest the thought of having to drag himself out of bed and sit in a room with Butch all day doesn’t seem as great as it used to. He can’t help it when he opens the messaging app, biting his lip as he prepares to read whatever might be there.

913473: it was a prank haha i rly got u good

That one was sent almost immediately after he’d left last night, according to the timestamp. Something about it makes his gut twist, gives him a bit of nausea. He’s not sure if he believes Butch or not. Once again, he’s not sure which is harder to deal with. Dated about an hour later there are a few more.

913473: jamie im sorry pls answer me 913473: don’t ignore me man if ur mad just come beat me up 913473: are u sleeping? damn out of all the times 913473: its k. i kno u need it. gnight

Jamie doesn’t realize he’s chewing his lip to shreds until he tastes blood, and he curses, wiping it away on the hem of his tank top. His eyes are glued to the screen, his heart thundering in his ears. Dated even later are a handful of other messages and he can tell by their contents that Butch must have kept drinking in his absence. The thought of that tugs at his heart a little – maybe he isn’t the only one who’s terrified of his own feelings and kind of a fuckup.

913473: i know ur asleeeep 913473: gdamn typing onthis shit. fcking sucks 913473: m drunk but idc. i kissed u jamie n itfucking rocked 913473: wasnt a prank. im srry. dont hate me 913473: u can hit me all u want. ill evenlet u win the fight. 913473: jsut dont hate me

Jamie groans and grabs his pillow, shoving his face into it a few times and letting out as loud of a yell as he dares. It’s not enough, but it will have to do. Breathless and flushed, he’s about to lay back down when a new message comes through and his heart leaps so high into his throat that he nearly chokes. He peeks at it over the pillow.

913473: yo you’re late dude. like super late! 913473: i figured id let u sleep off the hangover a bit but damn 913473: i aint gonna cover ur ass if the overseer comes knocking. i have enough of a headache. 913473: so get down here!!! 913473: speakin of headache i was drunk as shit last night. dont remember a thing past that crappy monster movie. so ignore whatever embarrassing crap i sent you, k? 913473: and dont tell anyone im a talkative drunk or ill pummel you, nosebleed.

Jamie looks at the messages in disbelief and flops back onto his bed, his thoughts racing. He can’t tell if Butch is lying or not – he knows even if Butch doesn’t remember there was still something different about what happened last night but fuck if he’s going to bring it up now.

He’s relieved, but also disappointed, maybe a little angry – either at himself or at Butch, he can’t tell. He’s shaking, wracked with nerves at the sudden sense that everything might change soon. He can’t handle change – can’t handle much, if he’s honest with himself, but change is the hardest of all. He curls his fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly and trying to resist the urge to pull it out in chunks. He’s losing himself in his worries again when another message notification shakes him out of it.

“Fuck!” he shouts, wishing he could rip his Pip-Boy off his arm and throw it away.

913473: NOSEBLEED GET THE FUCK TO WORK NOW 913473: its boring alone

Jamie feels like he’s actually going to tear his hair out, but he can’t help himself from laughing. He gives in and types out a quick response.

604272: for the love of GOD 604272: STFU 604272: im on my way now 604272: and i didn’t read ur stupid messages don’t worry. too many for me to care

He bites his lip again, his heart twisting uncomfortably in his chest as he writes out one more message.

604272: i don’t even remember much of the shitty movie lol, u know im a blackout drunk

There are a few minutes without a reply and Jamie starts to think maybe he’s fucked it up again, then more messages come through.

913473: u stupid fuckin idiot 913473: what would i do without u 913473: to pick on i mean

Jamie lets out a trembling sigh and gets out of bed, shaking himself free of his worries and tugging on his jumpsuit again. His hands are quivering, probably will be all day with the way his nerves are, but he can handle it.

It’s only as he’s going to leave does he realize he doesn’t have his shoes.

913473: i have your boots btw dumbass

Jamie is terrified of change. He’s terrified of his own emotions, especially when he can’t control them. He wishes things were simpler and he wishes he could have been born into a more agreeable body in a more agreeable time, but as he walks, shoeless, out of the apartment and to the studio space he shares with Butch, he feels a bit comforted in the fact that Butch might feel exactly the same way. Even if shit is messy and he fucks it up, Butch keeps coming back - and that’s good enough for him.

#fluffyfebruary #fallout #fallout 3 #butch deloria #butch/m!lw #lone wanderer #fanfiction #mlm #jay writes #fluffyfeb

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novaviis · 5 years

Note

If you don’t mind my asking about the sick!dick AU.... wheres jason in all of this??

Shit, here we go.

So, Jason is with Dick on Patrol one night. Prettyroutine stuff, they’re trying to get a lead on Black Mask’s new supplier orsomething like that, high above the city and going between working in tandem,joking with each other, and bickering over how to carry this out. Jason’srelationship with the family isn’t exactly the best. He still feels like theblack sheep, and at times doesn’t even know if he considers them family - butDick’s always the first to try to work with him, so at least there’s that. It’sa work in progress. Dick asks Jason if he’s going to go to that CharityGala. Jason laughs in his face. Again, a pretty normal night.

But as the night goes on, Jason starts to notice thatDick is - off. He’s starting to not act like himself, he’s spaced out, andliterally just off balance. When they stop a mugging (off their main objectivefor the night but what can ya do?), and Dick’s struggling to keep up, Jason hasto finish the job and get him the hell out of there. Jason drags them up to arooftop, out of sight, and Dick just leans back against a water tank holdinghis head in his hands.

And Jason just kind of… stands there.Like he really doesn’t know what to do. Dick’s breathing like he’s trying notto throw up, and his arms are shaking, and okay, that’s it, what the fuck,man? Dick tries to assure Jason that he’s fine, it’ll pass, but Jason’s alreadygot his comm on because fuck this, he’s calling Wally to come take his asshome. But Dick stops Jason before he can call, because he really doesn’twant to freak Wally out after what happened a few weeks back. Jason takes offhis helmet at that point, just so he can hit Dick with that “are youfucking stupid” look.

Dick tells Jason about his collapse, triesto dim it down as a fainting episode because he was overworked. It’s nothing,Jay. Seriously. Jason relents, but only if Dick goes the fuck home and - takesa nap, a day off, something. Dick laughs it off, but agrees.

He thinks that’s the end of it.

The night of the Gala comes, Jason’s sitting in hisapartment, watching TV, flicking through the channels, and scrolling throughhis phone. He’s on twitter when he starts seeing tweets pop up about somethinghappening at that Charity Gala. He’s almost forgotten about that, and it takeshim passing a few tweets to remember that his family is there. When he checksthe trending page, he sees one headline.

Dick Grayson, Son Of Billionaire BruceWayne, Suffers Seizure at Annual Gotham Charity Gala.

Jason turns the channel to the local news.There are already photos and video footage being circulated. He doesn’t reallyhave the mindset to be appalled by the press, how they’re so close anddoing nothing buttaking advantage of the situation (though he certainly has the mindset to thinkabout it later and he’s fucking furious). He’s too busy watching it all in full detail. Whatstarted out as a few sneaky shots of Dick and Wally dancing together likeit’s something scandalous turns into vivid footage – Jason watches as Dick goeslimp in Wally’s arms, sees the panic on Wally’s face as he shouts his name(audio cut out by the obnoxious drone of the reporters), sees as Dick starts toconvulse on the floor, the Gala erupting into chaos, Barbara pushing herselfbetween the scene and the camera, screaming at them, the camera cutting to adifferent angle as Bruce drops down beside Dick, loosening his tie and checkinghis pulse, talking to him when he comes to, keeping Wally calm – another angleas paramedics rush in with a stretcher, another angle of the ambulance andflashing red and blue lights outside.

That’s how Jason finds out. By the timethe story ends and the news turns its attention to the next, Jason realizesthat this had all happened an hour ago. In hindsight, its understandable that hedidn’t get a call or text right away, it was all chaotic and happened so fast,but for the moment he’s pissed thathe had to find out through fucking twitter,and rightfully so.

When Jason arrives at the hospital, Bruceand the rest of the family aren’t there. Wally and Barbara are in the waitingroom alone – and Wally looks so fucking wrecked that Jason’s anger depletes andrevs up again, directed at the hospital staff keeping Wally out. He wants tostart an uproar but Barbara tells him to leave it, that Bruce already threw themother of all uproars about it. Both out of spite to the staff, and admittedlya desire to not be in a tense roomwith Bruce for the chance they’ll both end up snapping at each other, Jasonwaits outside with them until Wally and Babs are allowed in. Which is when,being the true brother he is, Jason tattleson Dick, telling Wally and Bruce about his episode during patrol. Dick’s awake,aware, and feeling himself enough to slowly shrink down in his bed with asheepish shrug at his boyfriend’s frustration.

From there on out, it’s sort of the sameas everyone else in the family. They’re all worried about Dick, but themigraines and seizures start out as few and far between. Then it gets worse.And it’s fucking hard watching Dick of all people go through that. Because he’s reallythe glue that keeps the family together. He’s the one who checks Bruce, who’swelcomed in each new comer, who just listens and accepts. He’s always been thestrong one, and watching him slowly deteriorate is agonizing. Not being able todo anything is worse.

Jason’s at a bit of an awkwardimpasse in all of this, because he’s still not on the best terms with Bruce.But when Nightwing is out of commission, Red Hood steps up. Bruce doesn’treadily accept him at first, because they’re both too stubborn to actually sitdown and talk, but eventually they just set aside their differences and worktogether. After all, they did it once, didn’t they? It may have felt like alifetime ago, but they used to be partners, and they used to be good.

The wedding comes up. Jason isall too happy to get in on Wally’s scheme, keeping Dick busy until he gets thego ahead. At some point in the night, he finds himself looking around andrealizing that oh shit, this really ishis family.

It’s not until Dick isadmitted to the ICU, when Wally’s off chasing down answers across the globe,and Dick’s barely conscious between seizures, that Jason and Bruce actuallytalk. It’s late afternoon on a rainy, shitty day. Duke, Cass, Tim, and Damianare all at school. It’s just Bruce and Jason in the dark, quiet room, sittingon a few chairs in the corner (it’s a private room , and a Wayne owned hospital,so Dick is comfortable. It’s practically a small apartment). It’s awkward, andtoo quiet aside from the monitors. They both just crack, start to talk at thesame time, but can’t get more than a few words out before they realize theother is talking, and it turns into a bit of a match of “no, you go ahead”, “youfirst”, until they both get frustrated – and then they both sort of laughquietly because they really are too much alike. They talk for a bit, air thingsout, and while they know they’ll never agree on everything, it’s – well, it’sbetter. But then Dick is waking up and asking for Wally and reality comescreeping back in.

#Anonymous #sick!dick #birdflash #dickwally #batfam #jason tod #dick grayson

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sassydefendorflower · 5 years

Text

Whumptober Day 30: Recovery

Hiya!!! Second to last day! We almost did it!!!

Summary: This is a story of Robin becoming Nightwing. He just takes a more complicated route.

Fandom: DC, Batman, Nightwing

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon

Warnings: Major Character Injury, Albleism, Major Character Death (it’s jason)

Masterlist

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

(read on AO3)

Dick Grayson was eight when his world ended for the first time.

Dick Grayson was seventeen when his world ended for the second time.

He was seventeen when the Joker cornered Batman and Robin in the rafters of a warehouse. He was seventeen when he slipped on a coiled rope and fell. He was seventeen when the rope tightend around his left leg and broke it. Ripped it.

He was seventeen when he lost his leg.

There wasn’t much he remembered from that night afterwards. The moment of surprise, the fear of falling, and then PAIN PAIN PAIN.

It took some time for him to wake up again, in the Batcave with so much pain killers in his system he neither knew his name nor what was going on.

The first time he woke up and was actually coherent enough to comprehend that something had happened was almost a week after the event. He was no longer in the Cave, instead a normal hospital room greeted his bleary eyes. That was the first sign that something was very, very wrong.

The second sign was Alfred sitting at his bedside and not Bruce.

That something else was missing came to him much later, with Dick being still too high on the good stuff to feel any of his limbs. Instead he just stared at Alfred until the old man realized that Dick was awake.

“Master Dick, thank god! You had us quite worried. Do you need something? Some water?”

His throat was dryer than the Sahara, so he nodded, not really being aware of what was going on. A few sips later Dick finally managed to ask the one thing he did notice:

“B... Bruce?”

His voice was weak, pathetic, and suddenly he knew why Bruce wasn’t here. Dick had proven to be too soft after all. But that was not the answer Alfred gave him:

“Master Bruce is quite busy making sure that the man who harmed you is behind bars. He should arrive soon. Don’t worry, Young Sir”

Reassured Dick drifted back into the soothing darkness of sleep. He didn’t see Bruce that day. Or the day after.

He realized the loss of his leg a few days later, when he shifted during the restless sleep that had infested him since they reduced his pain killers. It was two things that finally clued him in: The searing pain that shoot up his left leg and the weird lack of resistance when he fidgeted with the blanket.

Only moments later, when he looked down and saw the space where one of his limbs should be, he questioned how he should have realized it sooner. With all the concerned looks Barbara and Alfred were sending him.

(Bruce still hadn’t visited)

But he had been out of it for most of these conversations, only listening halfheartedly before slipping under again. And now he was alone with the knowledge that the Joker had taken his future from him. That his own foolishness had taken it. Robin was over.

The tears that started flowing shortly after came to no surprise. That nobody was here drying them for him, hurt almost more.

The next couple of days passed in a haze. Dick’s brain was trying so hard to come to terms with what was missing that he didn’t hear the tasteless promises of Alfred about Bruce. He didn’t hear Barbaras forced cheerfulness. All he heard was “You can’t be Robin anymore” over and over in his head. It was infuriating. Especially since Dick didn’t know who he was without the mantel of Robin.

When Barbara asked if the other Titans were allowed to visit, he shot her down. No, they weren’t allowed to see him. He had to get a grip before he could look Donna in the eyes again. Or Kory. Or Wally. Garth. Roy.

The first sign of hope came upon him then, in the form of Dr. Tanja Romanova, his physical therapist. She was a tough woman, someone who only knew Dick Grayson, ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne. She had no idea that Robin was the one struggling to sit upright in front of her. It was refreshing.

She was also the one who told him that with enough time spend on letting his leg heal, a prosthetic could be fitted for him. If he wanted to. She told him about a few specialists in the field of prostheses, that she could refer him to as soon as his stump was healthy enough.

Something heavy lifted from his heart - if only barely. Just after one week of being conscious Dick already missed the constant movement. He missed the high bars and the trapeze and the rooftops. He missed being Robin. But he was happy to start with Dick Grayson getting his feet back on the ground. Or his foot? Technicalities.

There was no hesitation when he looked Dr. Romanova in the eye and told her, that he was happy to talk to every specialist she could think off as soon as she deemed him ready. Her answering smile filled him with warmth.

The next months were spend in physical therapy. They told him that it was vital for the prosthetic to work for his other limbs to be well trained and in top shape. Let’s just assume Dick surprised Dr. Romanova. Which was not to say that the physical therapy wasn’t demanding. It was hard to learn to move again when a quarter of his limbs wasn’t there to actually follow his brains command. His center of gravity was royally screwed up. But he did it. He trained, he learned how to walk with crutches and how to crawl correctly (and how to stand on his hands, but he already knew that one).

Bruce had finally started to show his face too. He sat in the back of the training room, only to vanish before Dick got a chance to talk to him.

The only real talk they had since Dick’s accident had been a short “You can’t be Robin anymore”. And Dick had already known that. Which didn’t make it hurt any less. Bruce was blaming himself and letting it out on Dick but Dick had too much on his plate to also take care of Bruce’s ego. Fuck, Dick had to learn to walk again. He wasn’t getting his leg back. And Bruce was certainly no help at all.

Was it that much to ask for Bruce not to be an ass for once?

But Dick used his frustration to channel it into his recovery. Dr. Romanova had to step in multible times to remind him to look after himself, to make sure his body was ready. To make sure he wouldn’t make it worse in his anger to prove himself.

And finally she green lighted him for a prosthetic.

That was the first time Dick called Barbara in two months. He was ready to reach out again. Maybe. He wasn’t so sure yet but Barbara was different. Barbara would understand. And she did. It felt good to talk to her again.

The first fitting for a prosthetic went horribly. It hurt when he tried to put it on, and he fell when he tried to walk with it. He was almost happy that he told Alfred to wait in the car.

(Living at the Manor had changed since he was discharged. Bruce only rarely appeared during dinner time and getting around had taken on a much more challenging tone)

His prosthetist told him not to worry, that his limb might just take a bit more time but all Dick felt was frustration. He had been doing great. He had been getting his life back on track, so of course, his stupid fucking leg had to fuck it up again.

Even though he didn’t yell, didn’t let his anger get the best of him, the doctor told him that he should consider seeing a therapist. Something about life changing traumas. Bullshit.

(And the public didn’t even knew the whole story. They thought he was in a car accident)

He went out of that meeting angry and it didn’t change when he went home to vent only to almost fall again when he tried to get out of the car. His frustration was quick to turn into tears. Couldn’t he do anything correctly?

His father wasn’t talking to him, he had alienated his friends (No offense, Kory) and the only two people he still spoke to were the family butler and his best friend/crush.

Maybe it was time to stop trying and just wallow in self-pity.

A week later saw him talking to Black Canary for the first time about everything.

A month later saw him return from a meeting with his prosthesist with a smile.

Two months later saw him working on walking again without crutches with Dr. Romanova.

Three months later saw him move out of the Manor.

He couldn’t do it anymore. The silence between him and Bruce had started to suffocate him. When he asked Dinah about it, she told him that needing space in a situation like his was natural, and that he was allowed to take that space for himself. So, he did.

At first he had wanted to move to Blüdhaven, to put a whole lot of space between him and Bruce but it was impossible to forget that he still needed physical therapy once a week, had an appointment with his prosthesist every two weeks, and met with Dinah over coffee whenever he needed it. Which was quite often as of now. That, and nobody wanted him too far away in case he fell or needed help. He was a cripple now. He almost forgot.

So, a Gotham City apartment it was.

Settling into a life on his own was different. He had handles installed in the bathroom and his bedroom, he needed to cook for himself, it was his own responsibility to do his course work. He was free. It felt great.

Half a year after the accident Dick called Wally again for the first time.

Maybe he was ready to move forward. At least a tiny little bit.

His 18th birthday came and Dick had lived alone for three months. He used his prosthetic on the regular now and when he tried hard enough he could almost ignore the phantom pain that seared nerves he didn’t even have anymore.

His party was small but everything Dick needed. The Titans came and Barbara and Clark. Alfred had cooked them a true feast and for the first time since way too many months Dick was completely happy.

With every horrid joke Roy told, with every never ending story Garth got caught up in, with every loving look Donna send his way, something in Dick loosened. He had locked these people out and no matter how often Dinah told him that that was normal, some part of him would always regret it.

With every touch from Barbara, with every shoulder bump from Kory, Dick could almost ignore the Bruce shaped hole at his table. His guardian had taken in a new kid. Jason. Adopted him too. Just as his guardianship over Dick ended.

But, no, his birthday was his and his alone. He wouldn’t destroy it by thinking about Bruce. He was surrounded by too much love for that.

It was late that evening, closer to the next morning than any of them liked to admit, when Clark joined him on the balcony of his flat.

“How you doing, lad?”

“Has Bruce send you to talk to me?”

That got a chuckle out of Clark. Dick liked the big goof. Something made him feel safe with him that had nothing to do with Superman and everything with Clark Kent.

“No, I came here on my own. It’s your birthday! Only a Super kind of event would stop me from attending”

“Good to know. So B has no excuse for not showing up”

Maybe Dick was a tiny bit bitter.

“You send him an invite?”

“No. But when has he ever needed one before?”

Clark tugged Dick closer to him, embracing him in a one-sided hug.

“That’s true. But don’t spent too many thoughts on your old man. It’s your night. You’re the Nightwing of your own story!”

“Nightwing?”

“Have I never told you about Nightwing and Flamebird? Well, I can’t stand by that!”

And then Clark told Dick a story of Krypton. A story so sad and yet hopeful, Dick felt tears well up. With a look at Clark’s serene face, Dick realized that this story was his birthday present. Clark had shared something with him so deeply personal because he knew that Dick would treasure it.

Maybe the real heroes were the friends you made along the way.

Three months later saw him in a slump. He used his prosthetic too often, too carelessly and now the skin on his stump needed time to heal which meant crutches and stares when he left the flat. Not that he didn’t usually got those, but on good days he could pretend that they were because of his charming personality and his dashing good looks. But not right now.

Which was why he stopped going out.

The call from Barbara telling him that Jason was Robin now hadn’t helped either. He hadn’t talked to anyone in days. He hadn’t eaten in some time. He couldn’t even remember when he last talked with Dinah.

He missed flying.

He missed it so much that he considered taking one last dash across the rooftops. It sacred him. And even more scared him his inability to do something against it. Or about it.

The person to finally shake him out of his stupor was the last person he expected: Jason.

The boy, and it truly was still a boy, stood in front of his apartment door in the pouring summer rain and stared at Dick when he finally managed to get the door. Dick had tried to ignore it but after 15 minutes of nonstop ringing even the most steeled mind needed a break.

So, to say that he wasn’t in the best mood when he found his replacement in front of his door would be an understatement:

“What? Didn’t Bruce tell you that the lost Robin was a cripple?”

Jason recoiled and Dick instantly felt bad. Why was he like that? The kid was not at fault for neither his shitty mood nor his strained relationship with Bruce.

Dick moved away from the door, into the apartment, motioning for Jason to follow him:

“Sorry. Want something to drink?”

That got the boy talking.

“Yeah. Some tea, if you have it.”

The accent was clear Crime Alley. Bruce had really outdone himself with that one. But Dick tried not to be more of a dick than he already was, so he didn’t say it out loud. He moved into the kitchen, leaning his crutches against the counter before filling the kettle with water. That seemed to intrigue Jason:

“You have one of these?”

Dick was just thankful that Jason hadn’t tried to help him. If that had been the case Dick would’ve had to use all of his self-restrained to refrain from punching the kid. He was trying, okay?

“Do you think Alfred would let me move out without a decent kettle to keep myself alive? Never.”

Finally the water was done and Dick could set two cups of tea down on the couch table. Standing around was awfully awkward, especially with the kid your guardian adopted watching your every move.

“But what brings you here, kid? Did’t believe I was real?”

Jason looked offended but Dick was way too tired already to think about what exactly had angered the kid.

“No. There is no way to escape your fucking face in the Manor. I had to see for myself what all the fuzz is about. You would think you died with how Bruce talks about you but you just lost a leg, for fucks sake!”

Well, that was a surprising new take. One that Dick was not in the mood to discuss.

“Congratulations, you saw my face. If that’s all you had to say, you can get out of my fucking home!”

And now he was getting angry. Wonderful. Maybe if he closed his eyes everything would be alright again. But Jason wasn’t ready to just stop:

“I fought with Bruce. That’s why I’m here. And I didn’t mean anything by it, just... Bruce never talks about you but there are pictures of you everywhere. Alfred tells stories sometimes but you sound like a fucking angel in all of them. How am I supposed to be Robin if I’m unable to reach that impossible standard. I needed to know that you are human. And you are.”

“Well, thank you for the reminder. I almost forgot for a hot second there”

“It helps that you are.”

They fell into silence after that. What was Dick supposed to do? He had a thirteen year old on his couch who just yelled at him and then told him insights into Bruce’s life that even Alfred had forgotten to mention.

What was the right thing to do in this situation?

“Do you wanna stay the night?”

Jason grinned at him:

“Yeah”

And Jason stayed the night. And the next morning Dick called Dinah again. It was time to prove to Bruce that he wasn’t dead yet.

In the following months Dick started to work out again. He took up boxing, weightlifting, and running. His prosthesist transferred him to Dr. Quinn when Dick started asking for prostheses that would make it possible for him to take on the high bars again.

And with a collaboration between Dr. Quinn and Dr. Romanova he did just that. He learned how to safely take on his gymnastics equipment without the prosthetic and, when Dr. Quinn designed experimental gymnast prostheses, he learned how to do it with them too.

He was finally flying again.

Was it hard and different and yet totally worth it? Yes.

Flying without a second leg ended on the floor more often than not, but it didn’t clip his wings as long as he was in the air. Dick was sure that he would even be able to do the famous Flying Grayson quadruple flip, if he trained hard enough.

It felt like breathing being up on the high bar - and later when they moved on to a low hanging trapeze. It felt like being Dick Grayson again.

Training with his prosthetic one was more demanding. Simply because they had to take time outs more often to see if it fit, if his skin or muscle were irritated and to make sure that he didn’t accidentally overexerted himself.

But there was something exhilarating in doing a flip - nothing too fancy - and landing on two legs.

Slowly but surely he got back in form. In Robin form. A bit different now, but superhero fit nonetheless. But that made it even more apparent that no human prosthetic would allow Dick to fly across the rooftops like Robin once had.

Dick Grayson would be able to fly again like this. In the safety of a gymnasium far away from things like uneven ground, badly lit stairs, or useless gaps (Dick finally understood now why the metro always warned you to Mind The Gap).

But Robin was still stuck on the ground.

Still, Dick started to go out more with leg and without. Dinah helped him realize a few things and when Wally knocked on his door asking for some quick advice or Jason needed to cool down at his apartment after a fight with Bruce, Dick no longer felt powerless. He was moving again.

And when he kissed Barbara for the first time when he was eighteen and a half and she kissed him back, he didn’t think that there was anything less between them than just their love for each other.

It had been 1 1/2 years since the accident when Dick contacted Cyborg and Martian Manhunter regarding an idea he had for a future prostheses.

They answered his call - and who in the Superhero community wouldn’t? - and together the three of them sat down to start a project. A project that could give Dick his wings back.

Whenever they reached a dead end, Dick would inquire with Dr. Quinn what her personal opinion on this completely hypothetical prostheses would be. It only worked because nobody suspected Dick Grayson to be working with the Justice League.

They made progress.

The first try was a complete disaster. It was a crash and burn scenario that ended with Dick having second degree burns and Cyborg and J’oann getting yelled at by Batman. Dick was kind of disappointed that Batman hadn’t yelled at him too. He would give anything to get some fucking recognition from his mentor. From his dad.

They continued.

And after the second try (just wouldn’t move), the third try (moved too much), the forth try (seemed to work until it suddenly started to sizzle), and finally the fifth try (it just... fell apart) it finally worked.

They created a prosthetic that was connected to Dick’s brain, reacting almost instantly to his synapses telling his leg to move. It looked humanoid (other than his every day prostheses) and was made from black and blue graphene, an extremely hard but light substance.

It was something a hero could wear without proclaiming his lack of limb to the whole world. Plus it looked really metal.

But like every good thing in life it had drawbacks: It tired him out faster, he couldn’t wear it for longer periods of time, and it made the phantom pain haunting him so much worse. Because suddenly his brain could send signals to his left leg again. But there was still no organic leg to feel anything.

On one memorable instance the NOPE (Neurological Operating Prostheses Engine) had malfunctioned and broken down with one bolt just yeeting itself out of the joint. And Dick had yelled as if in pain because his brain saw something leaving his knee and decided that that bolt had been his.

But all of this was secondary to the one thing Dick had worked so hard towards: He was going out to fly again. With a bit of training beforehand.

Now he only had to choose a name. Robin didn’t feel right anymore (and not only because Jason was Robin and Dick had started to actually like the kid) but because Robin was Batman’s partner. And if Dick was one thing no longer it was Batman’s partner.

He remembered his birthday again. And sitting outside with Clark. Dick grinned when he dialed Clark’s number. He had a question for Superman.

To say he was surprised when Batman, no, Bruce Wayne stood at his door two months later, during lunch of the day Dick was ready for a test run with NOPE, for a test run as Nightwing, would be an understatement.

He hadn’t talked to Bruce directly since he moved out of the Manor. That had been over a year ago. Alfred called him regularly, of course, and Jason came over solely to curse out Batman but they hadn’t come face to face in quite some time. It felt as if he was seeing Bruce for the first time again.

“What are you doing here?”

Dick was dressed leisurely in a hoodie and some pants Barbara had helped him modify for no-prostheses days (there had been relatively many of these lately). He could feel Bruce’s eyes stopping at the sewn up pants leg.

For a moment the emotional whiplash threatened to unbalance Dick. He had forgotten that Bruce had never seen Dick just be without some sort of prosthetic on. He had seen Dick, back before the accident, and he had seen him in the hospital, completely lost and yet desperate to work towards ‘normality’.

But Dick as he was now? At ease with his body? Comfortable to look into the mirror and not flinch back when only three limbs greeted him? No, Bruce was the only person Dick called family that had never been part of the Dick After.

It hurt. It hurt so much more than Dick could have ever imagined.

“I... I wanted to see you”

“Now?”

Bruce just looked at him. His eyes were locked on Dick’s face now, burning into his skull. It might be Bruce who appeared at his doorstep but it was Batman who handled this conversation. And nobody said no to Batman.

“Yes. Now.”

Dick let him inside his apartment.

It was awkward. Of course it was. But Bruce made Dick conscious of his body. Of his movements through his home. Of the crutch he used to comfortably reach places.

He hated it.

But he went to the kitchen nevertheless, starting the coffee machine and staring Bruce down when he moved into Dick’s space. Both of them were silent until they had taken a seat on his table. And as always it was Dick who caved first:

“Now what do you really want, Bruce? You haven’t talked to me in over a year”

“I... I heard about your little pet project with Clark and Victor and I wanted to tell you that I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, aren’t we all lucky then that you are no longer my guardian? Aren’t we all lucky then that you can no longer tell me what to do? Not since Robin.”

Dick knew he sounded bitter. Heck, he was bitter. The satisfaction that cursed through his body when he saw the shocked look on Bruce’s face made him feel warm. Warm and a tiny bit dirty. Bruce had still been his second father. Dick hated the amount of power he had over him.

But Bruce surprised him just then. He raised his hands in a peaceful gesture and nodded:

“I know. I just thought you should know that I won’t support this endeavor in any form but...”

“Then you can leave.”

“No. Hear me out. I know I haven’t been the best guardian this past year and half. I know I messed up. Let me try to fix it. Please, Dick.”

“I want you to leave right now, Bruce. I want you to leave and only come back when you are capable of looking me in the eyes. I want you to fuck off until you learn to respect me again.”

He was angry but his voice sounded weak. Bruce wanted to extend a hand but then he seemed to remember the current conversation and did the only good thing he had done in a long, long while: He left.

And for the first time since seeing Bruce at his door, Dick could breath again. With each deep breath came a surge of tears. Tears, he had held back when his guardian - his dad - had told him once again, that he didn’t believe in Dick. It was nothing new and yet it hurt each time.

He went out that night, anyway. Out of spite. Out of righteous fury. Out of a promise to himself: He would stop letting Bruce dictate his life.

His first few nights out were a complete disaster. Well, not completely, he got to make out with Batgirl on a rooftop on the night of his 19th birthday. But other than that?

His reactions were slightly off, when they were in a fight, he accidentally almost killed a crook when he kicked him too hard with his NOPE, and no amount of training could prepare him for the fact that he could jump 3 feet further than before and miscalculated his landings frequently because of that.

But none of these things were life-shattering. They all just meant that he had to work a bit harder and Dick was ready to do just that. Hell, Dick had always been ready to do just that.

And if he had to train more and work later and strain himself more, just to be able to run next to Batgirl and take the city with her, it was totally worth it. Nightwing was flying and that was everything that counted.

So, what if Batman and Robin made themselves scare on the route him and Barbara usually choose? So what if Jason told him that Bruce had broken his hand in anger when the first report of an injured Nightwing came through? So what if Bruce hadn’t called himself to make sure that Dick was okay?

(Which he was. He had sprained his ankle which resulted in a few awkward days and endless teasing from Roy who had crashed on his couch. Dick had been duped the “Legless Wonder” for most of the time. It had ended in only one black eye)

He was 19 now. An amputee for almost two years. He had a closet full of prostheses, an absolutely awesome girlfriend, friends who would do anything for him, a little brother, a college he attended sometimes (Sorry, Alfred), and he was flying again.

He was happy. Especially when it came to the larger picture. Dinah told him how proud she was and Dick had to agree: He was proud of himself too. It was a great feeling to have.

It was one that made it worth it when he overbalanced or tripped over small things. It made it worth to struggle sometimes only to find other things laughingly easy.

It made it worth for his first month out to be a bit of a disaster. But hey, they were superheroes. When did any of their lived not resemble a disaster?

Nightwing became a fixture on the Gotham night sky. It had taken only half a y*ear and suddenly the papers asked if Nightwing and Batgirl would transcend Batman and Robin. It was a hilarious debate to follow.

Dick enjoyed it immensely. He had started to read the paper during breakfast just to keep up with it. The fact that his hero-ing had gotten better and better helped with the slight pinch whenever he read the name of his mentor. They hadn’t talked since Dick threw him out of his apartment. There hadn’t even been a card for his birthday.

But Dick was over that now, really he was. Recently the thought of joining up with the Titans again was far more important. His old team had done good without him, but he knew he could make them great.

Barbara supported him fully when he’d asked her. But still, it was a hard decision to make. The extreme use of NOPE made him unable to use his daily prostheses too often and while Dick had honestly no longer a problem with his lack of leg, taking on the world with crutches was fucking exhausting. He could simulate being fully able-bodied when he wore a prosthetic (and even then it was a simulation) but with crutches stairs were even more of a hassle than usual. And Gotham was shit when it came to disabled access for buildings or the metro. Bruce should really get on that.

But all of that was manageable. Dick made sure of that. But with the Titans? That would mean longer missions, even more of a strain. It made him ask himself if he should tell all of them his secret ID and not only the inner circle he considered his family. It made him ask if it was safe to just be Dick Grayson around him, instead of Nightwing.

He had filled notebooks with pro and con lists but no definite result had yet presented itself. Dick was kind of tired of all this thinking if he was honest.

Which was why Bruce knocked on his door again, of course.

It was like the man could smell when Dick was in emotional turmoil. It wouldn’t surprise Dick if he could. That creeper would learn such a skill if it was possible.

“What do you want?”

Dick was done pretending to be polite when it came to Bruce.

“To say sorry and to talk to you”

That made Dick still in his angry rant he had been planning in his head. Bruce wanted to say sorry? The world must be ending. It was the sincere look in Bruce’s eyes and the complete lack of Batman in his posture that made Dick step back and let Bruce enter.

“You are going to leave if I tell you to”

“Of course”

“Good”

They got settled on the couch, coffee in front of them, and only then did Dick realize that Bruce hadn’t stopped to stare at his leg even once. Huh. His former guardian might have actually learned his lesson. He might actually be sincere.

“Talk”

Which didn’t mean that Dick wouldn’t be a bit of a dick to him. After almost two years of minimal contact, Dick felt that to be fair. And Kory told him once that him being salty was “as you humans call it: Sexy” and Barbara had agreed. So, salty it was.

Bruce straightened and looked Dick directly in the eyes when he spoke. There was an almost stiffing air of importance around them. Dick had to swallow even before Bruce started talking:

“I... I’m sorry, Dick. I am truly sorry for how I treated you those last few years. Before your accident as well as after. Especially after. I... I told myself that it was my fault, what had happened, that I was to blame and that you would be better of without me. I didn’t realize that me being there for you, was the one thing I could do. And that made me clam up. I... You suffered for my mistakes and you suffered even more under my inability to talk to you. And I am truly, completely sorry for that.”

“I... I don’t know what you want from me, Bruce. What am I supposed to tell you? Thank you? I’m sorry too? What do you want to hear?”

Dick was lost. There were only very few memories of Bruce opening up like this and none of them were recent enough to prepare Dick for all these emotions he felt. But Bruce seemed to be the emotionally prepared one for once in his life. He took Dick’s hand in his, never breaking eye contact and said:

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one who took away your autonomy and your integrity. All I want to know is if you are happy. If you are healthy. If you like the person you became. Because - while I might not know everything - I am damn proud of you.”

There should be a legal clause in place that forbade the immense pride and suffering that cursed through Dick’s body when he heard that last bit. It made him feel like Robin again, constantly trying to gain approval, constantly trying to make Batman proud. He didn’t know why he was so happy and so angry at the same time. He didn’t know how this was possible.

“Why? Because your disabled little charity case managed to get his life back on track? Because I am such an ‘inspiration’? You have no idea. I am just living my life and if you would have even cared for one minute enough for your ginormous head to get out of your ass, you could have been a part of my life. You wouldn’t have to be proud of your cripple for surviving, you would be happy for your son for living!”

Where had all these words come from? Dick had no idea but he did feel lighter for having said them.

No matter how often he promised himself to get over Bruce, for him to reach independence from this part of his life, he never really succeeded. What a bitch move from life.

“I... I am proud of you for doing your own thing without me. I am proud of you for everything you did as Robin and for everything you will achieve as Nightwing. I am proud of you for working with Clark and Victor and I am proud of you for not letting me stop you. I... I would be more than proud if I would be allowed to call you my son. And I know I fucked that one up, so I am going to go now... just... Batman would be more than happy to welcome Nightwing down in the cave.”

Dick was too stunned to react when Bruce stood up and left. What the ever loving fuck had that been?

But at least this had helped him in making a choice. He dialed Donna’s number. He had a team to rejoin.

Being with the Titans again was fun. And so much less problematic than he had imagined.

His friends were the greatest people on earth (and on this side of the galaxy). Whenever the running and jumping and being awesome got too much, Dick excused himself to monitor duty. And none of his friends ever even imagined thinking worse of him for it. Maybe Dick had been the one to overthink this all along.

He still patrolled in Gotham, just not as often anymore. He lost a bit of his one-on-one time with Barbara for it, but it also gave him some more space to think about Bruce and their last talk. Nothing had come of it besides a weird feeling in Dick’s stomach.

At least that was what he kept telling himself.

It was Jason that called him that fateful night, which would mark the beginning of yet another end. Barbara and Commissioner Gordon had been kidnapped by the Joker.

Dick’s blood ran cold. It must have shone on his face, because when he looked up from his phone all of his friends at Titans Tower stared at him. It only took him half a sentence to convince Wally to take him to Gotham.

When he arrived the worst was already over. Barbara and her father had been found. Jim Gordon was alive, Barbara barely hanging on in the hospital. It pained Dick to slow down and change into civies before he could go and visit her.

(And yes, it would always be weird to limp into a hospital after a long day and visit someone else. It felt as if people forgot that he could have hurt friends too, just because he was obviously lacking something. Common sense, according to his friends. Or self-preservation)

He wasn’t alone when he reached the operating room. Jim Gordon sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room area. He slowly sat down, as to not spook the man. Jim looked ten years older than he had when they had last seen each other.

“How is she?”

Gordon looked at him then, with contempt and hope in his eyes. Maybe Dick wasn’t the person he had hoped for. Or maybe he was. Dick just knew that he had to be Dick Grayson tonight and not Nightwing. That Batman and Robin would be enough while he sat and waited for Barbara to survive.

Had his friends and family felt the same that first night after his fall? Probably.

“Extensive spinal cord injuries. Head trauma. Broken rips. They are still treating her but it’s up to her if she survives. It’s up to my little girl to survive”

“How good, that we both know then, that Babs is a fighter”

Dick had to believe in that. There was no other option or choice. Barbara would survive and she would thrive and Dick would be there for her. It was just how the world worked.

They sat together the whole night. Not talking, but sharing companionship nonetheless. Jim brought him coffee and Dick shared his snacks. It was early morning when a doctor finally came to talk to them:

“Family of Barbara Gordon?”

“I’m her father. That’s her boyfriend”

Dick nodded even if the comish’s tone had been harsh. The man was under a lot of stress right now. Sparing Dick’s feelings was very low on the list of things to look out for.

“We stabilized her and transferred her to a room in the ICU. Her spinal injuries are severe, though. The bullet lodged itself between L4 and L5 of her lumbar, or lower spinal cord. She will most likely be paraplegic. Other than that she should make a full recovery. I will send a nurse when she is ready for visitors. One at a time.”

With that the doctor vanished back into the operating room. Gotham was a busy city for doctors and nurses and they couldn’t spare any time for the finer points of human interaction. They had lives to safe. And they had just saved Barbaras.

A ginormous wave of relief washed over Dick. Babs was going to be okay. It was going to be okay. Next to him Jim started crying. For a moment Dick didn’t know what to do, and then he reached out and pulled the commissioner in a one-sided hug.

“It’s gonna be alright. She made it”

“I know. My little girl is alive. My little girl survived”

Dick let the father cry, having tears run down his own face. Distantly he wondered if Bruce had been like this too that night. Unimportant. That laid in the past, while this was the present.

Dick held onto Jim and Jim held onto him. Together they waited. Together they cried because Barbara had survived.

Dick wasn’t surprised when she banished him from her hospital room two weeks later. He had done the same after all 2 1/2 years prior. And their situation were different. She had a bit more to deal with. He could wait and he would be there when she needed him.

He would give her the same space and trust she had given him.

It was the right thing to do. Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to cope in the most Bat-way possible, however. He had finally taken up Bruce’s offer to use the Batcave.

The Joker was currently back at Arkham but Dick still needed to let out some steam. He took to training in the cave, to going out with Batman and Robin at night. Nobody said anything if he was a bit harsher with the criminals.

Batman himself seemed badly shaken up and Jason had screamed with rage when Bruce told him that Arkham was all they could do against the Joker. Dick had wanted to scream too, but some part of him agreed with Bruce: They couldn’t kill no matter what. No matter how much they wanted to.

But Jason was even more disagreeable than normal. Dick knew that Jason liked Barbara but he was impressed by just how much his little brother cared for her. When asked why Jason just beamed at him and said:

“She’s fucking Batgirl. A normal girl deciding to be a hero without Batman to hide behind. And she could totally kick your ass!”

Which, true. It was adorable and heartbreaking at the same time. Barbara deserved to create this kind of burning passion in people. She was awesome after all. But Dick knew that Barbara had a lot of adjusting to do in the future. That Batgirl was most likely over. Not the hero part, no, never, but the part of her life where Batgirl was the moniker of her choice. Accidents and traumas like theirs changed you. And Barbara had been a woman for years. It was time her hero-name reflected that.

Dick would tell her just that when she was ready to hear it.

Until then this punching bag was more interesting for his fists and thoughts.

“You favor your right leg”

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But Dick didn’t grace Bruce with an answer out loud, instead he waited for the coin to drop. The shocked intake of breath only moments later was more satisfying than anything that had happened in the last two weeks.

“I’m so sorry, Dick. I didn’t mean...”

A breathless laugh escaped him. It was still so weird to see Bruce - freaking Batman - walk around eggshells when it came to him and his loss of leg. It was better than the guilty silent treatment, of course, but terribly weird and also a little insulting.

“I favor my right leg because I can’t really control the force I use with my left. There are a few too many criminals out there who ended up with worse than necessary injuries because I used my left one for a spinning kick.”

He looked at Bruce then because he felt the scrutinizing gaze of his mentor. Bruce was clearly contemplating something. It was a typical look on Batman and one Dick didn’t like.

“What? Spit it out?”

“Hn... I noticed differences in your gate during patrol, of course, but you and Barbara made sure to keep the capabilities of your Nightwing prosthetic out of my hands. What exactly can you do with it?”

Only a month ago Dick would have spit in his face. And while things weren’t okay between them -Not for a long shot - Nightwing worked with Batman at last. And Batman needed to know what his allies could do.

“What NOPE can do? It enhances my ability to jump by 3 feet, and kicks are up to twice as forceful as they were before. I also have storage for snacks and equipment. Everything a night-time vigilante needs.”

Bruce only nodded before wandering off. Dick wanted to punch him right there but he didn’t. All of them had too much on their minds. Social cues were lost on Bruce most of the time and during stressful periods? Well, good luck.

Time, well, time moved on. Barbare hadn’t yet contacted him, only told him through her father that she wanted more space. That Dick reminded her a bit too much of what she had lost. And just because Dick understood, didn’t mean that it hurt any less. Emotions were a bitch.

Instead he focused on cases centered in Gotham. He needed to be home just in case Barbara decided to reach out. Just in case the Joker broke out and Dick could get a change in punching the clowns teeth in.

And to be there for Jason. His little brother was 15 now and fighting with Bruce. Constantly. In a way he reminded Dick of himself, of that last year before the accident and the many that followed. But he wouldn’t let his misguided grief for things that were no longer ruin his relationship with Jason.

Instead he let him sleep at his apartment whenever he needed to cool of. Instead he made room for this little angry gremlin. They played video games together, they ate junk food, and whenever the night had finally progressed enough, Jason would spill the beans. About the fight. About the fear. About what being Robin meant to him.

It hurt to hear all that. It hurt and healed to know that Robin had not only saved him, but Jason too. He didn’t know how to react to those deep revelations, though, so he went with the Dick Grayson special: He hugged Jason close.

He did the same thing the night Jason came to him because of a case he and Bruce were working on. The night in which Felipe Garzonasa fell. Dick listened and listened and hugged. But internally? He didn’t know how to proceed either.

Bruce would be furious. And anxious. At least partially, rightfully so. Someone had fallen. Someone had died. And Jason had been there. Something like this shouldn’t happen in their line of work. Wasn’t allowed to happen. And yet it had.

But Dick felt lenient. Jason was still just a child. Mistakes were made and no matter if Jason pushed Felipe or not, he felt bad about it. And that was all that counted. At least to Dick. Dick would make sure that Bruce felt the same. A warning about deteriorating Father-Son relationships should do it. Dick knew where to push the buttons.

But before Dick could ring true to his promise of talking to Bruce, the Titans answered a call for an off-world mission. Dick had never been off-world for longer than a day and it sounded awesome.

He agreed and suddenly there was so much to do, that Jason got kind of forgotten. It sucked but honestly: outer space. A few galaxies away from worrying about Barbara (and he left her a message) and Jason (he left him his emergency number).

It was a whirlwind of motion and if everything went alright, Dick would celebrate his 20th birthday on a space station with people closest to him, excluding a few notable exceptions.

They set sail and everything went great. He spend time with Kory and she told him about Tamaran and growing up as a princess. He joked with Wally and Roy and Donna, and sparred with all of them. He spend long days lounging around and short days fighting bad guys.

It was a vacation of the superhero kind.

But they had to return. And they did. Two days before his birthday. With his phone logging back into the american mobile network and a hot bath (and a week without a prosthetic) in his near future, Dick couldn’t wait to reach his apartment.

There were only two messages on his phone though, when he checked. The older one was from Jason, the newer one from Barbara. Both were very short. Both made dread pool in his stomach. Something told him that his bath had just been canceled.

Jason’s dated three weeks prior was simply “I have news” and the one Barbara had send him contained a dreadful “Call me!”. Dick didn’t want to. Dick did it anyway:

“Dick?”

Her voice sounded wrecked. Dick didn’t know if it was because of something regarding her health or if it was because of something completely different. He hadn’t heard her voice in far too long to be able to tell.

“Babs? You said I should call you...?”

Dick was tired. He had been fighting aliens for over a month. He wanted a bath, sleep, some cereal and someone to massage to tension out of his left limb. He knew he would be getting neither. He knew his world would be destroyed once again instead.

“Oh, Dick... I... has Bruce talked to you?”

“No. No call. Nothing. Why? Because you scare me Babs.”

“I... Dick... Jason... Jason is dead. Killed by the Joker. Two weeks ago.”

The floor vanished under him. He fell to his knees in a graceless heap, not processing, not understanding, not believing.

“What? That... please tell me that isn’t true? Please... please...”

Tears streamed down his face. He was utterly destroyed. He wanted. No. He... this had to be a lie. It had to! What would Dick do if it wasn’t?

“I’m so sorry. I... I’m so, so sorry. My dad told me... the press knows, but I’m not sure if Bruce has talked to anyone since... I... I am so sorry”

Barbara was crying, Dick noted. Well, he was too. But there was something else that piqued his interest:

“Bruce? Why hasn’t he called me? He... he was able to. He was able to contact our ship. Why hadn’t he called? Babs? Why didn’t he tell me? I...”

He had to call Bruce. He had to. It was important. It felt almost as important as the hole in his heart did. His friends had gone home too, nobody knowing that Dick’s world would break apart only moments later and still all Dick did wish for was a tight hug and someone to tell him that everything would be okay. That this was a nightmare. That his little brother wasn’t dead.

Without another word he ended his call to Barbara. Instead he dialed the number of the Manor. It rang for a long while. But finally - finally! - Alfred picked up. Only hearing the haggard sound of Alfred’s voice confirmed everything. His little brother really was dead.

“Wayne Manor. Please state your request”

“Alfie...”

“Master Dick. You are back, I see”

“Is... is it true? Please, Alfie... is it true? Is Jason really dead?”

“I... I am sorry, but yes. Master Jason has... died”

Dick would love to be mad. Would love to hate Alfred for not telling him, but he could hear the un-shed tears in the Butler’s voice. He could hear his own pain reflected right back at him.

“Oh... why? Bruce?”

“I am afraid Master Bruce has not yet left the downstairs to take care of the more personal issues... like calling his son about his brothers... demise. I am truly sorry, Master Dick. I... I was so consumed by my grief...”

“No. Not your fault... I guess I missed the funeral?”

“I’m afraid so”

“Oh... Alfie? Tell Bruce not to call me. I think I need so space. And... I am sorry too”

Dick ended the call and did what he did best: He started to run.

He spend his 20th birthday on a park bench in Chicago, with some beer and without anything else. Without his dead little brother. Without his hurt girlfriend. Without his worried friends. Without the phone he chucked into the water after it started blowing up. Without a college education. Without a home. Without a leg. Without anything to look forward to.

Three months later found him in Blüdhaven. The city he had wanted to move to almost three years ago. Now he did it. Nightwing had relocated with him too.

Everyone knew that he had moved there. It was hard to stay under the radar when you couldn’t move past the need to be a hero. The need to feel something. The need to feel alive.

Dick had quit college when he heard the news and now he worked in a dingy cop bar, searching for trouble and information. Whenever someone asked how he lost his leg, he told them some wild story about Gotham and heroes who couldn’t do shit. It felt as if he was talking about himself. Maybe he was.

He talked to Wally and Roy and Donna. But never Kory or Barbara. He called Alfred and Leslie, but never Bruce.

He was falling apart. His prostheses needed upgrades but neither talking to the JL or returning to Gotham for a check up felt doable. His new apartment wasn’t made to handle his needs and he had taken to using a kitchen chair in the shower as to lower risks of injury. He still fell. It still hurt.

Dick was falling apart. He either slept too much or not enough. His pay made it impossible to eat healthy and more than once he marveled at the fact that was only able to move as freely as he did, because of Bruce’s money. Because of the fact that even now only the prostheses Bruce had paid for where the reason he could go to work or take the stairs. Even if he didn’t want to do either.

Even if he never wanted to touch anything Bruce had paid for again.

Because it had been Bruce that lost his little brother. Because it had been Bruce who cost them everything they had worked so hard on.

(Because it made the voice in his head bearable)

(Your fault. Your fault. YOUR FAULT. your fault. Your Fault. Your fault)

So, to say he was surprised to see Barbara in front of his apartment one day, would be an understatement. He hadn’t talked to her in months, hadn’t seen her since the Joker had his way with her. Hadn’t realized just how bad he missed her.

She looked beautiful. Her red hair in a high ponytail, her eyes shadowed in the way of a nighttime vigilante, her clothes fitting and not in the way of her chair. The chair. Dick hadn’t even realized it was there at first. He had only seen her. How could he not? She was a powerful sight to behold.

(And of course his apartment complex had an elevator. He was broke, not suicidal. Probably. As of yet. Most likely.)

And for a moment he understood. People who loved you saw you not your disability. And even with that disability being a part of you, it didn’t stop the way they looked at you. It didn’t stand in the way of them truly taking you in. They saw every single part of you and loved you even more for it. Had she seen him the same three years ago? Probably.

Because he saw her like that right now.

Saw how she commanded the room - or his tiny, dingy apartment -, saw her regal pose and the queen like force behind each of her movements. He saw Barbara Gordon.

“Why are you here?”

“Because someone needed to do it. Bruce is not going to and your friends are too far removed. So, here I am. Ready to kick your ass. Let’s go out and get coffee!”

With that she turned to the door, leaving him behind. No, leading the way so he could follow. And that he did. With his crutches in his hands and a week old hoodie, he definitely didn’t compare to her but he knew that that didn’t interest her.

Instead they made their way downtown, through the dingy streets that made up Blüdhaven. Halfway to the coffee shop Barbara suddenly turned to look at him, and when he stared back, she smiled.

“What?”

“I just thought something pretty dumb and you are allowed to be offended but...”

“But what?”

Dick was intrigued. It was rare for Barbara to not outright say something. But then again, they hadn’t talked in any significant matter in almost half a year. Were they even still dating?

“It is kind of nice to go down the street with someone you know is unable to try to push you. I think I almost dislocated my dads shoulder last week when we went to the grocery store and he wanted to push my chair on the way there.”

Dick laughed. It felt good. It felt foreign. It felt forbidden. But still... good.

“I mean... I hope you know that I wouldn’t push you even if my hands were free. Cause, you know, I kind of get it. People trying to help. Feeling helpless. Being angry because of that”

“And do you feel helpless now?”

He stopped and stared at her. They stood in the middle of the sidewalk, taking space and stares galore. Her chair and his sewn shut pants leg made them the target of public scrutiny. Their eyes met. He took a deep breath:

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But not because of my leg. Really, that stopped bothering me as soon as everything else started going to shit. I’m just...”

What were the words he was looking for? What was the correct answer? He didn’t know. Barbara must have sensed it too because she motioned them forwards again.

The coffee shop Dick had chosen was full, but they somehow managed to get a place anyway. A pretty barista brought them their orders, and both of them smiled when she sat it down. Not having to fight through the masses was always a relief.

It was Barbara that started their conversation back up again:

“I’m going back into the hero business”

She said it as a challenge. As if she wanted for Dick to disagree. He couldn’t do that. He still knew that feeling all to well. He knew how much she needed support and love and understanding. He knew just how ready to fight she was.

“Cool. How? What’s your new moniker?”

“I deserve--- Oh.”

And then she laughed. It was a beautiful sound. He could have fallen for her just because of her laugh but everything else she did was entrancing too. He was completely lost when it came to her. And yet he knew that it was a sound that happened far to seldom.

“I... I thought of building up an information network. Batgirl was always awfully good at hacking and collecting intel. Maybe it is time for Oracle to make a job out of it”

“Oracle... I like it. It has a nice, mysterious ring to it.”

She smiled and without a second of hesitation Dick felt himself smile back. They drank their coffee and for the first time in quite some while a feeling of content settled in him. But of course, this conversation wasn’t over yet:

“How are you doing, Dick?”

“I... I am trying. Possibly failing, but God, am I trying.”

“Can I help?”

“I think you just did. Thank you. Babs, I...”

“Yes?”

“I love you. And I am so sorry that I didn’t keep the promise I made. I’m sorry that I didn’t keep a fuckton of promises I made. I’m trying. I really am. And I am going to keep trying with you.”

There were tears in Dick’s eyes. Tears, that spilled down his cheeks. They both knew he didn’t just talk to her, he talked to Jason as well. He hadn’t even visited the grave of his little brother yet. Just one other person to disappoint.

When she put her hand on his, the warmth surprised him. It had been ages since someone touched him. He had forgotten how much he craved it.

“I am... I am not going to tell you that everything is okay, or was okay. I wanted you ages ago and you were gone. But... I understand. And I can life with you trying. Because honestly? You blame yourself so much you don’t need other people doing it for you, too.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“I mean, have you seen your ass?”

With that a laugh mixed itself between his tears. He felt warm. Oh so warm. There were people next to him. There was a strong woman in front of him. There was hope.

The next months moved on in anecdotes.

It was Dick calling Wally and Wally running into a wall because of excitement.

It was Donna and Roy holding an intervention in his apartment and burning all his ugly sweaters.

(They weren’t ugly. You guys just don’t have taste)

It was Dick going flying with Kory. Again and again. And it was Babs joining them, screaming the entire time.

It was movie nights at Titans Tower.

It was visiting the graves of his family with Barbara. It was seeing Jason’s grave for the first time and bursting into tears.

It was Dinah talking with him about guilt. About surviving and grieving and being a hero.

It was Dick and Babs falling into bed with each other, struggling, only for Dick to break down laughing because “Between the two of us we have one good leg”. It was Barbara laughing so hard that she cried. It was the two of them together.

It was Dick almost giving Superman a heart attack when the Man of Steel wished Dick good luck for a mission by saying “Break A Leg” and Dick answered “I sure hope not. I have only one left” without missing a beat.

(And it was Wally laughing in the background)

It was getting newer and better prostheses and yet continue to learn to love his body without. It was being comfortable as just Dick Grayson.

It was talking to Alfred but never to Bruce.

It was becoming the hero Blüdhaven deserved.

It was becoming NIGHTWING.

Dick was ready to go to bed. It had been a long day. Being a bartender was hell for his foot and back. And he still planned on going out tonight. A quick shower would be great before, though. Bed had to wait.

But a knock on his door interrupted his efforts to ready NOPE. Instead he stashed his gear behind the couch again, and made his way to the door. It was dark outside. Nobody in their right mind would conquer Blüdhaven at this time. Maybe it was one of his neighbors.

A quick look through the spyhole told him a different story though: Outside stood a child he had never seen before.

He opened the door.

“How can I help you?”

The kid stared at him and for a moment Dick was unsure if he had scared him or not. The kid was tiny. He didn’t need to be frightened on top of it. But when the flood of words started to leave the kids body, Dick knew he didn’t need to fear for this child. At least not like that:

“Hello! My name is Tim Drake! I live next to Bruce Wayne. And... and I know that he is Batman. And that you are Nightwing. I followed you. At night, I mean. And not you directly, but like, the second Robin. And... Batman... Batman needs a Robin again. You have to return to Gotham. It needs you!”

Dick stared at the child. Stared at Tim Drake, who had just spilled the best kept secret in the world.

“I am not going to be Robin again. That name is no longer mine.”

He would never be Robin again. Never fly next to Batman like that. But maybe it was time to grace Gotham with a visit. Maybe it was time to return to his home turf for a while.

#whumptober2019 #no.30 #recovery #day 30: recovery #whump #major character injury #alblism #major character death #but that's Jason #this is long #and I mean loong #11.000 words #fucking long #i love this #please love it for me #dick grayson

4 notes · View notes

notstars-doors · 6 years

Text

What Are Friends For?

~~~~

Dick manages to send Wally a weak smile before the speedster is gathering the younger man up in his arms in a tight hug.

“Hey…”

Dick melts into Wally’s touch, letting out a deep sigh against his shoulder and curling both arms around his waist. “Hi…”

“You okay?”

“Not really.”

“You want a burrito?”

~~~~

Fluffy little fic about Dick and Wally being the weird, cuddly best friends that should really figure out that they're in love.

read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860538

dickhead: dude u awake

kid idiot: yeah man

kid idiot: why tf are you tho

dickhead: who r u talking to rn

Wally rolls his eyes, tossing the controller down beside him on the bedsheets and rolling over onto his back to pay better attention to his phone. It’s after midnight in Palo Alto, but it’s a Friday night and he finished his lecture notes earlier. He’s half expecting his best friend to roast him not going out on a Friday, but midterms just finished, and he’s wiped. All Wally wants to do is sleep, but dammit he’s been doing nothing but writing papers and taking exams for the last three weeks, he’s gonna stay up late and play some video games if he wants to.

kid idiot: true

kid idiot: still man, what time is there rn

dickhead: 4:36

Wally sighs, frowning up at the bright screen. If Dick’s sleep schedule didn’t kill him, Wally would just for staying up this late. The poor guy needs rest more than most people.

kid idiot: dude go to BED

dickhead: cant sleep

dickhead: can u come over

He blinks, the question throwing him for a second. Then he’s on his feet. Usually when Dick asks for Wally’s company like this, without beating around the bush, he’s having a bad time. The fact that it’s 4am in Gotham and Dick isn’t on patrol probably means it’s worse than usual.

He’s halfway through tugging on a pair of jeans over his boxers when his phone buzzes again.

dickhead: can i come over****

dickhead: sorry

dickhead: its ok if ur busy

Wally bites his lip, taking in a deep breath through the nose. His chest hurts with worry and all he wants to do is run over to Gotham and hug his best friend. But Dick probably wants the time it’ll take to use the Zeta beam to compose himself. Which is dumb because Wally could be there in two minutes and has seen him like this a million times before. But he knows that Dick needs the time.

Sometimes Wally wishes he didn’t know his best friend so well.

kid idiot: dude of course you can

kid idiot: nothing to be sorry for. meet you at the zeta in ten?

dickhead: ok

Wally tugs on the rest of his clothes in a few seconds, tripping over an untied shoelace as he slips out of his room into the dark hallway. The apartment he shares with a few other students is quiet, most of them either asleep or out partying. Dick chose a good night to visit.

He’s pacing in front of the seemingly-decrepit phonebooth for about eight minutes before the light of the zeta beam signals Dick’s arrival and the 18-year-old is stepping out. Wally’s heart sinks when he takes in the sight of his friend.

Dick’s hair is rumpled, which isn’t all to unfamiliar when he’s Robin - no, Nightwing now – but as Dick Grayson it can be an odd sight to see if you aren’t used to it. He’s usually the picture of composure. Tonight, however, Wally can see the dark circles under his eyes, even in the fading light of the streetlamps. His duffle bag is slung over a slumped shoulder, one hand in his jacket pocket.

Dick manages to send Wally a weak smile before the speedster is gathering the younger man up in his arms in a tight hug.

“Hey…”

Dick melts into Wally’s touch, letting out a deep sigh against his shoulder and curling both arms around his waist. “Hi…”

“You okay?”

“Not really.”

“You want a burrito?”

Dick chokes out a laugh, and Wally smiles at the sensation of Dick’s rumbling chest against his own.

“Do you ever stop thinking about food?”

“Hey, I’m thinking about you! Burritos always make me feel better when I’m down, I thought you might be hungry.”

Dick pushes away from Wally, shaking his head but unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re an idiot.”

Wally grins. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick shrugs his duffle bag more securely onto his shoulder. “I guess I could go for some pizza?”

“Pizza it is!” Wally slings an arm around Dick’s shoulder again and guides him out of the alley into the main street ahead; if he knows anything about Dick Grayson, it’s that the best treatment option is always constant physical contact. “You wait, Palo Alto has the best pizza.”

Dick snorts, poking Wally in the ribs, but very obviously not objecting to the arm still around him. “Liar. You’ve had Chicago pizza, you know that’s not true.”

Wally wags his index finger in front of Dick’s face. “No-no, my friend, this city has changed my pizza opinions. Seriously, just wait.”

Dick chuckles quietly but doesn’t object. Which isn’t the best sign. No banter is a bad sign.

The two find their way to a 24-hour pizzeria around the corner from Wally’s apartment, Dick ordering a slice of pepperoni and Wally taking the last three-quarters of a deluxe. It’s not long until they’re tip-toeing back into Wally’s building, creeping through the apartment until they’re back in his room.

“Alright, that’s pretty good pizza.” Dick finally admits, polishing off the last piece of crust and sucking some tomato sauce off his thumb.

“Right?” Wally gestures vaguely, speaking through a mouthful of his own last slice.

Dick looks a little brighter, having just eaten some fantastic pizza and settled comfortably against his best friend’s side, but he’s still not the bouncing ball of energy that Wally is accustomed to being around. So, it’s time to get to the bottom of this.

Wally finishes the last few bites of his pizza, then slings an arm back around Dick’ shoulders. Dick tucks his head in against Wally’s collarbone, who then rests his cheek against soft black hair as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“So, what’s goin’ on, little bird?”

Dick huffs at the nickname but doesn’t comment. He’s quiet for a while, probably trying to pull his thoughts together into something coherent, so Wally just waits. Their legs are tangled together on the bedsheets, barely any space between them, and Wally can feel the tension in every one of Dick’s muscles. The guy is wound like a clock, always ready to spring into action. Not that Wally doesn’t know what that feels like, but he hadn’t grown up with the World’s Greatest Paranoid.

As if on cue, Dick takes a deep breath. “Bruce and I had a fight.”

Wally closes his eyes in frustration and tries not to have a bodily reaction to the admission, but he knows he’s failed when Dick slumps against him even more. “…again?”

“Yeah.”

“What was it about this time?”

“Um.” He fidgets against Wally’s side, clamping his lips together for a moment until- “You.”

Wally blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh… Why?”

“He doesn’t…” Dick pauses, letting out a sigh of frustration, bringing his hands up to rub the heels of his palms into his eyes. “He doesn’t understand why I… need you around…”

Wally looks up at the ceiling in confusion, as if the peeling paint could answer the questions banging around in his head. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Dick huffs out another sigh, then sits up abruptly, detangling himself from Wally and moving to face him in a cross-legged position. “I don’t know! He just said something about having too much dependency on you and how that can compromise my ‘emotional integrity’ and I need to have ‘distance’ and all this other bullshit.”

He spits out the last word with so much venom that Wally’s taken aback. Dick never talks about Bruce like this, no matter how angry he’s been with him. He’s always had some modicum of respect for his mentor, but it sounds like Bruce really hit a nerve with this one.

“He’s just… so fucking frustrating these days. It’s like talking to a brick wall.” Dick’s running his hands through his hair in distress. “I mean, it used to be like talking to a very sturdy door with like seven different locks, but at least that had some give to it. Now it’s like… he’s just… he’s different, since Jason.”

They both go silent for a moment, the room suddenly filled with such poignant presence it’s almost like the boy is in there with them. Wally slings his leg over Dick’s own crossed legs, and Dick lays a grateful hand on his knee in response.

“I just… I don’t think he understands how different we are as people.” Dick’s shoulders slump again, all self-righteous anger rushing out of him in one swift motion. “He’s never needed people, even with me and Alfred, and even Jason around. He’s never wanted to need people, he doesn’t get what its like…”

Wally purses his lips. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Dick blinks, looking at his friend in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Wally sighs, sitting up a little straighter against the headboard, crossing his legs underneath him. “I mean, I don’t think it’s true that he doesn’t need people. I don’t know Bruce was well as you do, Dick, but… I mean, you don’t see the way he looks at you.”

There’s more silence after that. Dick is contemplating. Wally just waits.

“How… what do you mean?”

“Dick… Bruce loves you.” Wally shakes his head and reaches out, taking Dick’s hand in his. “He’s… he’s your dad. He needs you just as much as you need him. Sometimes he’ll look at you and it’s like… like you’re made of porcelain or something. It’s never when you’re looking, because he knows you’d hate it. I think… I think he’s just afraid of losing you.”

Dick leans forward and rests his forehead against Wally’s chest. “Then why is he being like this?”

“Maybe it’s easier for him to push you away?”

“Easier than what?”

“Than you not needing him anymore.”

Wally can feel Dick screwing up his face, like he’s trying to hold back tears. “I’m always gonna need him, Walls…”

“I know that. But does he?”

It’s a while before Dick even moves, let alone continues the conversation. After a minute of silence, Wally lifts a hand to start rubbing small circles into his lower back. Dick relaxes into the touch but doesn’t respond in any other way. He just sits there, his head against Wally’s chest. He’s crossed-legged and bent forward in a really weird way, but that stopped bothering Wally a long time ago.

Finally, Dick sits up and away from Wally. He’s quiet for another minute, and Wally is prepared for a few more moments of silence, until Dick lifts his head. With the slight amount of moonlight shining in through the window, Wally can just about make out the tear tracks running down his cheeks.

“Dick…”

Wally doesn’t even think about it. It’s just instinct to reach out and wipe a thumb along the edge of his friend’s jaw, to catch the stray bit of wetness still lingering there. His skin is soft, even covered in tears, and Wally doesn’t think anything of it. They’re always touchy, always have been. It’s just the way they’ve always needed to be.

He barely notices the change in Dick’s expression: the look in his eyes that’s desperate and needy and just a little bit wild, before a sudden pair of soft, salty, tear-stained lips are pressed against his own and he’s being kissed by his best friend.

Wally doesn’t react. Sort of. His body just kind of freezes and his eyes go wide and his hands raise up (god knows why), but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t think his body knows how to.

The kiss doesn’t last long. Maybe five seconds, tops, until Dick seems to realize what he’s doing and moves away very quickly. He slaps his hand over his mouth, either in shock or just from the feeling, and then they’re just staring at each other in confusion. No disgust or anger, just mild confusion. And a strange dawning sensation.

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…”

“…new.”

“Mhm.”

Wally realizes his arms are still in the air, so he drops them back down onto his knees. Still staring at Dick, though, who’s looking back at him like a deer in headlights at this point. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He’s just… confused… and now Dick is biting his lower lip and Wally can’t do anything but stare at that and that’s weird cuz he’s never done that before and whyishestaringatDick’slipsthatsaweirdthingtodobutsoiskissing yourbestfriendandDickjustdidthatsomaybehe’stheweirdoneinthissituationbutitwasn’tthatweirdsowhyishefreakingoutrightnowheshouldn’tbefreakingoutit’sjustDickandDickisDicksoitshouldn’tbeweirdbutisitevenweirdorjustdifferent-

“-lly… Wally!”

Wally blinks, and suddenly Dick’s face is really close to his and the guy’s hands are on his shoulders and wow he’s like a furnace, when did he get so hot? Not like that hot, like warm hot, ‘cause Dick’s always been hot hot, and whoa where did that come from?

“Are you okay?”

“Um.”

Dick sighs. His big blue eyes are wide and concerned and looking directly into Wally’s and jesus when did they get so blue? “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

“Dude…”

“No, I know you’re not… I was just emotional and you’re my best friend and I think I just had a weird… need… I shouldn’t have just-“

“Dude.”

“-done that without your permission, I’m sorry, I won’t-“

“DICK!” Wally grabs Dick by the shoulders, the same way his friend is holding him, and shakes him just a little to stop the rambling.

Dick sucks in a gasp of air and bites down on his lower lip again. He’s looking up at Wally like he did the night he told him about his family, about Bruce, about his whole life. Like he’s scared. Like he’s expecting Wally to bolt and wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Wally just stares down at his lips again, still not understanding what’s so damn fascinating about them, until he’s reaching up and watching his own thumb pull Dick’s lower lip out from under his teeth and gently run along the chapped skin.

And then it’s clear.

Dick lets out the softest puff of air and Wally can feel it on his fingers and then he’s looking into those big baby blue’s with a question that only Dick could ever know he’s asking. Then those baby blue’s are disappearing behind fluttering closed eyelids and he’s kissing his best friend.

And… it’s magic.

That’s the only way he can describe it. It’s like it just… fits. Like this was always where they were going, and they were idiots to think they were just friends. Best friends. Touchy, handsy, lovey-dovey, emotionally-secure Best Friends.

Fuck, they were so stupid.

Dick’s hands are still on his shoulders, but Wally’s have moved to gently cup Dick’s face and pull him a bit closer. Their mouths are closed. It’s barely a brush of the lips, both of them just a little too scared to push it any further. But it’s still like fireworks and Wally thinks his heart is about to burst out of his chest, but that’s too cliché, so instead he just starts to fucking vibrate.

Dick breaks the kiss with a laugh, his eyes opening to look up at Wally in a mixture of amusement and adoration that’s just about giddying, so Wally starts to giggle in response, because everything is ridiculous and still manages to make sense, because it’s Dick and it always has been.

Suddenly they’re tumbling over sideways in a tangle of limbs and laughter, and it’s the most natural thing in the world. They’ve got both arms around each other now and whether they’re breathless from the kiss or the laughter, neither of them will ever know, but it’s wonderful.

“Well, that’s certainly one way to cheer a guy up.”

Wally’s still chuckling, but the comment makes him snort out a few more giggles, his abdomen aching in the best way from the exertion. “You can say that again.”

Dick rolls onto his side in Wally’s arms, resting his cheek on his shoulder. Wally turns his head to look at him, knowing Dick would just stare at the side of his face until he did. “So…”

“So…?”

“So, what now?”

Wally purses his lips, looking down at his friend – wait, could he still say that? – in mild amusement. “I dunno, man, this was your idea.”

Dick’s jaw drops, and Wally does his best not to break down into giggles again. “It was not! You’re the one who touched my face!”

“I’m always touching your face, you’re the one who decided to get all up into mine.”

“I was not! It just happened!”

“’It just happened.’ ”

“It did! Don’t mock me, you jerk, where do you ge-”

In a split-second Wally leans over to kiss Dick again, just to see if it shuts him up, and when he pulls away he discovers that it does.

“Like that?”

Dick blinks, his mouth a little open in shock from the kiss and Wally realizes that his mouth had been open when he kissed him. Well, that’s even newer.

“…yeah.”

They’re quiet again for a bit. Wally lifts a hand to brush a few stray hairs out of Dick’s eyes. He’s done it a million times before, but now it feels different. Everything feels different. In a matter of minutes everything between him and his best friend had changed.

Except, it hadn’t.

And now Wally’s not really sure where he stands.

“Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“You’re mine, too, Walls.”

“This doesn’t… this doesn’t change that, right?”

Dick looks up at him, and this time his gaze is calculating. Like he’s trying to solve a problem. “Not unless you want it to.”

Wally shakes his head immediately, then reconsiders. “I mean… You’re always gonna be my best friend, no matter what.”

“Same here, man.”

“But… we can still be best friends and… do that, right? ‘Cause…. ‘cause I think I wanna do that more.”

Dick smiles. “Kiss?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“And still be best friends?”

“Dude, yes. Of course. Those are the best kinds of best friends.”

Wally smiles back now, pressing his forehead against Dick’s. “Okay.”

His best friend in the world curls an arm around his waist, like he’s done so many times before, and pulls him closer. “We don’t have to talk about this right now, Wally. We can just… enjoy it. We can figure everything else out later.”

“That sounds good.”

Dick chuckles and closes his eyes, relaxing against Wally’s chest in a way that’s both familiar and entirely new. It’s nice.

Wally grabs the blanket that been bunched up behind him and yanks it over top of them both, snuggling in for a good night’s rest that he figures neither of them have had for a while. Then he remembers the reason they were here in the first place.

“Hey Dick?”

“…hm?”

He’s falling asleep already.

“You feeling better?”

Dick blinks his eyes open, lids heavy, then nods with a tired smile.

“I think so. Thanks, Walls.”

Wally smiles in return, snuggling lower into the blankets and nudging his nose gently against Dick’s.

“Hey, what are best friends for?”

#yj #young justice #birdflash #dickwally #dick grayson #wally west #ship #fic #short fic #ao3 #fanfic #mine #my writing #dc #dc comics #titans #nightwing #robin #kid flash #the flash #batman

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backtothestart02 · 6 years

Text

When Time Stands Still - 3/?

A/N: I really like this chap!! I hope you do too!! :D

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing!

Chapter 2 -

Light streamed through the windows, warming his face in lines due to the half-closed blinds. He knew it would be time to get up soon, and that if he didn’t do it in the next five minutes, first an alarm would go off, then a pounding on his door, and then a barking by whatever individual was assigned for that day – or week – to awake all the citizens in the building.

He sighed and forced his eyes open, blinking away the sleeping dust that clung to his eyelids. He pulled back the thin cotton blanket that had half-fallen off in his sleep and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pressing the red button on his bedside table that alerted security that he was awake.

He counted to five slowly, then pushed himself to his feet and padded across the all-white room to the all-white wardrobe that held all white garments inside – one for each day of the week. White pants, white socks, white shoes, white t-shirts, both short-sleeved and long, and a thicker stiffer white jacket meant to be worn for when dealing with chemicals. The blast of white would’ve been overwhelming if it hadn’t been the only sight he’d seen as far as back as he could remember. When he was in this room, sometimes he forgot what other colors could exist. He saw brown hair and hazel eyes in the mirror, but the blinds were sealed behind glass, and they couldn’t be opened more than they were. The light could be adjusted in the room, but usually it was done automatically, without his aid.

It had taken a while to learn the simplest things, though he was told often how quick of a learner he was. His mind only took him back three months, but apparently he’d been in this place for six. He wondered if that’s when he had been born. He couldn’t remember a mother or father or siblings or friends. Had he always been this old? Had he always been alone?

But he wasn’t alone. There were millions of other people outside these walls. And Clifford Devoe was his creator. He made sure he was fed, educated, clothed, given a place to sleep and a place to work every single day. He owed his life to the man who alternated between brutality and kindness as easily as he breathed.

Still, he couldn’t complain. He hadn’t been made an example of yet. That meant he was still alive.

He was dawdling, reluctant to start another monotonous day of classes and work. His position was janitorial. Luckily, he wasn’t the only janitor in the city, but he was responsible for cleaning one nine-story building in the heart of downtown Central City. He was given nine hours to accomplish it every day. It wasn’t thrilling, but all the windows in that building were clear glass with nothing blocking their vision – no blinds or drapes or anything concealing the inside of every room to the brilliance of the city.

He longed one day to go beyond the inner city to the water front he could faintly see in the distance when he reached the higher levels, but exploring any place beyond living quarters, work place, and the educational facility were only for those who finished their work for the day. He’d yet to meet anyone who had.

He heard someone coming down the hall and knew he’d taken too long. Quickly, he finished changing his clothes, moved into the tiny bathroom to brush his hair, teeth, and apply deodorant. He slipped on his shoes that were only slightly scuffed on the bottom. When the door opened barely a minute later, he was ready to go.

“Mr. Allen.”

Barry nodded once.

“I’m ready.”

The man, large and strong, gestured toward the hall and then began to walk. Barry quickly followed.

Three flights down in a bright white stairwell took Barry to the first level where many other people dressed in identical white garb were waiting. The man made an announcement to follow and together all thirty of them were led outside.

Barry wanted to stop, breathe in the fresh air, relish the warm sun hitting his face fully, take a walk maybe just to see the city streets, to experience them.

But there was no time for that. He knew better than to try it again. Instead he followed the others to the white bus waiting in front of the building. They all climbed inside, walking past the man in similar white garb sitting in the driver’s seat. Once everyone was counted, the man from the building took a seat in the very first row, and the bus began to move.

Barry counted the seconds, 587 of them, until the vehicle came to a stop. He peered out the window as he waited for the people in the rows in front of him to get up and go to the front of the aisle. He saw the tall white building. All the windows except for the ones at the very top were painted over, so white they looked like walls from the inside.

“Mr. Allen.”

The burly voice snapped him out of his fascination, his curiosity. Once he realized he was the only one left on the bus, he quickly got to his feet and walked to where the man was glaring at him with piercing green eyes.

He almost apologized, opened his mouth to do so, but then thought better of it. He would stutter, just as he had the last time, and that would land him in a dark room for hours and no breakfast.

There was nothing he hated more than complete darkness.

Outside on the pavement, he got in the back of the single-file line and entered the building, in step with the others – left, right, left sounding off in his head as it did every morning. He didn’t know why those words were so ingrained into his mind, but given that they were in his creator’s voice, he suspected they were part of his early lessons he couldn’t remember. He didn’t question it, but he was curious.

Bright white enveloped him again as they entered the building. People were milling about, on to one task or the other. Not everyone could fit into the cafeteria for breakfast, but this was the time slot allowed for the first three floors of his building. He followed the others as they got in line, not looking forward to the tasteless food awarded him for getting up this early and not being allowed to take in the sun outside.

But he was looking forward to one thing. It made this detestable meal worth it every morning. Everyone else mutely accepted food from the servers behind the counter, but when he reached the woman who promptly dumped applesauce in a small bowl on everyone’s trays, Barry Allen couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t remember smiling at anyone but her. It was an odd sensation that he couldn’t describe. He couldn’t remember being taught what it meant in any class he’d taken, by any lesson Mr. Devoe had given him. But when he smiled at her, he felt a warm sensation bursting in his chest. When he got her to smile back, even a little, he felt as if his feet were leaving the floor and floating in the air.

It was no different today.

Nearly skipping, he made his way down to her, and when she made to dump a large spoonful of applesauce into the bowl positioned on his plate, he spoke up.

“Two helpings, please.”

She paused, nearly sending the applesauce in her spoon to fall onto the counter before he quickly moved his bowl to catch it.

“Got it,” he said easily, proud of his accomplishment.

“U-um,” she stuttered. He was slightly proud of that too.

“I didn’t take any of the oatmeal.”

She looked over at his tray. “Or the carrots.” Her eyes widened, then she looked up at him. “Or anything else.”

Her look of concern warmed him, almost as much as the sun.

“I’ll take a big glass of milk. Don’t worry about me.”

She shook her head but wordlessly agreed, giving him a second helping of the applesauce so his bowl nearly overflowed. The person behind him cleared their throat loudly, and he knew he needed to speed this up.

He leaned over the counter a little, easy to do because of his height, and lowered his voice.

“You look beautiful today, Iris,” he said, glancing down at her nametag even though he didn’t need to.

She met his eyes, shock reverberating through her. He didn’t blame her. A beat later, he was shocked himself. He’d meant to compliment her, but the word beautiful… He couldn’t remember every learning it.

“T-Thank you,” she managed, and he saw that his compliment had landed, even if she was equally confused by it.

“H-Hey!” The person behind him growled. “The rest of us need food too!”

Barry nearly jumped out of his skin, but he finally took some steps forward, though not looking away from the woman behind the counter until he could no longer see her while staying in line.

Just before he forced to look away, he saw it, and triumph arced through him.

She smiled.

…

On the couch across the room, her short nails digging into her jeans, Jesse tried to remain calm. Of all the things she had expected to happen today, her ex-boyfriend showing up on her doorstep to tell her all the people on Earth 1 – including her father – had been brainwashed for the past six months, and he was only telling her now because these people called the ‘Legends’ had convinced him to, was the last thing she would have thought of. In fact, she would have never imagined this scenario in a million years.

Wally was pacing in front of her, trying to remember every detail. The child he’d brought with him was his baby sister apparently. She supposed she’d have to take his word on that. She did vaguely remember her dad mentioning a pregnant Cecile that he’d made a device for due to her mind-reading capabilities. It was likely this was the same woman who had given birth to the child now in Wally’s possession. Still, it was a lot to take in.

“Wally, sit down,” she finally said.

He sat in the chair nearest him, which thankfully wasn’t right next to her. She didn’t know how she felt about him at the moment, but she knew she needed space. She needed to think. Especially if she was going to tuck her feelings away to come up with a solution.

“So, just to recap-”

“Mhmm.”

“This Devoe guy brainwashed everyone on Earth 1 with some intricate technology, and you left everyone besides your baby sister behind when you found them all that way six months ago.”

His lips parted.

She met his eyes, holding tight to the anger inside her and directed it to her nails digging into her pants.

“Is that right?”

“Jesse, I-”

She closed her eyes. “Just answer the question, Wally.”

He sighed, then nodded. “Yes.”

“And you have no idea what’s going on there now, if your family is even still…alive.”

His exasperated sigh was louder than intended.

“Jesse-”

“Wally.” She shot him a warning glance. “Just answer the question.”

He pursed his lips. “No,” he managed. “I didn’t see them before I came here.”

She leaned back on the couch and folded her arms across her stomach, unable to look at him.

“Because?” she finally asked.

He got up and stood in front of her.

“Because if I had gotten caught, there would be no hope for them. You wouldn’t know. The Legends wouldn’t know I’d been caught. Your dad? He’d be lost. For good. And if you ever came for a visit, chances are you would be too.”

That started to hit home for her, but she was still irritated. So she stood up and walked past him, careful not to be too close.

“So, what are you expecting from me, Wally? You think I’m so smart, I just have an instant solution to this mess? I’m not…my dad.”

His brows furrowed, and he approached her. Only one step because he could see her watching his steps, ready to bolt if she decided he was invading her personal space.

“You’re smarter than you think, Jess.”

Jess.

The nickname he’d called her the first time he told her he loved her. . She’d loved it so much that he kept on saying it. Hearing it now was bittersweet, and in her current state it almost felt like a weapon.

Wally’s voice interrupted her thoughts, as did the couple steps he took closer that she eyed warily.

“Maybe you don’t have an instant solution, but…I mean, don’t you have…a team?”

She blinked and looked up at him. The suggestion completely blindsided her, given how the guys on her team had shot glares at him the last time he was there, making it look like they thought he had broken her heart when it was the other way around. For his part, Wally didn’t look particularly pleased to see them either or how close they stood to his recent ex-girlfriend. Jesse made a point to quickly separate them, so she could speak to him alone.

She’d been too afraid to break up with him in person, so she wasn’t pleased when he showed up. But the last thing she needed was him thinking she’d developed feelings for someone on her team and that was the reason she was breaking things off. So, she put aside her nerves and spoke to him alone – far from her STAR Labs alone where the guys couldn’t overhear her, since she also turned her com off.

But that felt like a lifetime ago.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ was written across her face even though she didn’t speak the words.

She didn’t want to say ‘those guys hate you’ or ‘I thought you didn’t like them’ because he’d never acknowledged how uncomfortable or annoyed he’d been by their sole interaction. But it was hard to ignore, and her guys had no trouble talking trash about Wally when they thought she wasn’t listening until she called them out on it. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

“How many of there are you?” he asked, seemingly unaware of how badly she was spazzing inside her head. “Five? Six?”

“Seven,” she said.

His eyes widened. “Se- I didn’t count that ma-”

She waved that off. “He’s a recent add-on.”

“He?” he asked, and she wondered if there was just a hint of jealousy in his voice.

She stomped on the brief spurt of satisfaction that gave her. He was acknowledging he didn’t really like the guys on her team. So what? It didn’t mean he still had feelings for her.

That last thought shook her to the core, and she angrily cursed herself.

You broke up with him, remember?

“He’s a kid.” She waved him off. “Thirteen, maybe fourteen. An orphaned speedster. I took him in.” She took a breath. “I’m training him.”

Wally relented, thinking for a few moments before speaking up again.

“So…what do you think? Will they help us?”

You, she thought. But she didn’t say that. Her dad was on Earth 1 too. She’d do anything to save him.

“Maybe,” she said, contemplating. “I mean, they weren’t really fans of my dad, so I don’t know if that’s a strong selling point… Of course, they’re heroes and should want to save innocent lives regardless, but-”

“You could mention that Barry almost single-handedly saved your world from Zoom – and freed you after you’d been kidnapped.”

Her eyes lit up at that. Guilt quickly replaced the excitement when she realized after everything that happened, that fact had slipped her mind.

Her lips twitched slightly as she took in Wally holding his breath as he stood there waiting.

“That just might work.”

*Also posted on AO3.

#westallen #quickwest #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #when time stands still #chapter 2

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fireandseaweed · 6 years

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Eye Have No Eyedea What To Do! || Percy and Z

Z comes to Percy for advice after he blinds Terminus.

It had only been a day since the showdown between the Roman god of boundaries and the eldest demigod son of Hypnos. Legends always spoke of the victory of battle being sweet and well-deserved, but this was not one that Z had wanted nor was he proud to have ended at the top. He hadn’t done it for valor or for honor like the heroes of old. No; he couldn’t even consider himself to have been on the side of good. No good would come to New Rome or its citizens from what he’d done. There would be no warm welcomes or parades in his name. The only metal he’d be feeling would be the handcuffs they affixed around his wrists or the sharp blade that could find his neck if they performed executions here. He wouldn’t be very surprised. Z needed help. Death was not an absolution he wanted to find himself chained to. His first instinct told him to fill Wally in, but he had doubt that the man could do much other than attempt to physically comfort him. He didn’t need arms wrapping around him and telling him things were going to be okay; he needed solutions, both good and bad. That desire led him to the doorstep of the people he knew would be able to provide him unbiased options. He knocked softly with one hand, the other latched around the strap of his satchel.

Percy shifted off of the sofa in his front room and moved towards their door. When he opened it to reveal Z’s face, he had to admit that he was slightly surprised. Raising an eyebrow, Percy smiled at him. “Zed,” he said quietly with a smile slowly trickling across his face, “it is a pleasure to see you, I hope you’re doing well, although you look a little down…” he trailed off gently and shrugged, “is there anything that I can do for you?” he asked with a yawn. He’d slept poorly the previously night, fears and nightmares keeping him awake long into the early hours of the morning before he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

The person that opened the door wasn’t the half of the equation Z had been hoping to see first, but both were extremely welcome faces in a time of unrest. “I need your...advice,” he said immediately after being asked, eyes wide and full of jaded hope that maybe whatever happened next would help alleviate some of the weight that was anchored so harshly on his shoulders. Z’s grip of his satchel tightened, feet shuffled beneath him, and he tried his best to give a smile. It ended up looking more like he was in pain. “I should preface with please don’t be mad at me.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Percy held the door open for Z. “Come on in,” he said wandering off towards their shared kitchen and pulling down a pair of mugs. “Tea, coffee …. Or hot chocolate, sometimes it is just a hot chocolate kind of morning?” he pulled out a bag of marshmallows and produced some squirty cream. “What do you want?” he paused for a moment as he began to grab tea spoons. “I’m not sure I’m the best advisor, a literal daughter of the goddess of wisdom is probably who you were after, but I’ll listen at least, although I can’t promise not to get mad if this is really terrible. But like, as long as you didn’t kick an elephant or something…”

Z nodded when instructed to come inside. He let his legs carry him through the threshold of the Percy’s home and he stood, awkwardly, in the space between the living area and the kitchen. His fingers flexed around the strap of his satchel. “Coffee, please,” the man replied. Caffeine was certainly counterproductive to what his overall goal was: a night’s rest. However, he’d prefer not having to consciously think about keeping his eyes open when he’s about to share information about a crime. “I believe I’ve committed a felony.” Z immediately reached for his satchel to pull out the piece of parchment that had been given to him by the raven. The ink that waited inside had shifted as time passed, no longer detailing the exact thing whoever sent it wanted Z to do, but the threat still remained. He proposed that it had something to do with them not wanting it to get back to them. All in all, it was rather crafty. That was a major part of the initial problem. “No...no, I’m sure it’s a felony. Felony...committed from blackmail? I don’t think that will hold up in court.”

Frowning gently, Percy pulled down what he needed to make Z’s coffee and began the work of art that was hot chocolate making. If Z wasn’t going to indulge then he certainly would. “Well,” Percy said frowning gently as he tried to imagine exactly what it was that Z could’ve done to get himself in trouble, “I can’t really give you any real advice on what you should do in this situation until I know exactly what it is that you’ve done wrong. Particularly considering that several things which are now felonies in New Rome are pretty dumb and trivial, you might not be in a lot of trouble.” He wondered why Z had warned him not to be mad. He was sure that it was because of something other than a trivial felony that someone could consider it making him mad.

“Right, then.” Z lessened the distance between them and set the paper on the counter for Percy to peruse, all while looking down at his feet. His hands moved to open up his satchel and he pulled out a single opaque jar. The glass itself was foggy, preventing any eyes from seeing its contents. He set it up on the counter as well, but his sights never left the object. “I was given that note with very clear instructions...that I have already completed and I don’t know what to do,” he told the other demigod. “I can’t go to the Senate because I think whoever is blackmailing me might be affiliated with them...or hold some sort of power here in New Rome.”

Taking the paper from the counter, Percy scanned it a frown furrowing his brow. The message seemed intimidating to say the least. The wording was almost similar to that used by the Senate, although that didn’t mean anything. “So they wanted you to do something to remove the pommerian line?” he scratched at his stubble before finishing their drinks and handing a cup of coffee over to Z. “So, I assume you did something? What did you put Terminus to sleep?” he asked curiously. He topped his hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows before taking a sip. Wiping whipped cream off of his top lip and the hair that sat there. “What exactly did they blackmail you with?” he asked, almost afraid to ask.

As Percy read, Z’s eyes continued to linger solely on the jar. Just thinking about the contents made his chest tighten and his stomach ache, like at any moment he’d turn over and spill yesterday’s meal on Percy’s rather clean floor. That would be the second biggest crime he committed in the past week. “No...Well, yes; I did make him sleep...but it didn’t last very long. Funny thing! I’ve found that I can put a god to sleep, but only for a few minutes at a time.” He paused for a moment. “I was able to hypnotize him. He told me that as long as he could see, the line would be held so I...I removed them—his eyes, I mean. They’re in the mason.” When he attempted to inhale, he realized it was hard to breathe. “They threatened to take my siblings. Both mortal. I don’t know how they knew but they did. They gave me less than four hours.”

The realisation of exactly what had happened hit Percy all at once. Glancing from the note, to the mason jar and then to Z. He took a deep breath and then repeated the exercise. His eyes finally dropped back down to his own drink. Struggling for words, he paused for a second before eventually speaking. “You stole a god’s eyes?” he asked gazing at the mason jar with a sudden tenderness. He’d never been this close to an actually godly body part when it was seperated from its body. “Sorry this is a bit much,” he bit his lip and shook his head, “okay, so they black mailed you into doing this, who exactly is they? And why would they want you to do this? Other than raising the pommerian line of course.” He started pacing back and forth in their tiny kitchen, trying to work it out.

All of the questions Percy posed were ones that Z could not very well answer with any certainty. He wasn’t even sure the word ‘stole’ could be correct, considering steal referred to something possessed and someone’s eyes were part of the body. It was more like he mutilated a god. “I told you everything I know...all I have left is speculation,” he told him, rubbing at his neck. “I’m not even sure if they’ve gone forth and taken Arlo and Harmony anyway. I have no way of knowing anything.” Z looked down, then. “That’s why I came here. I was hoping that you...and Annabeth, of course, would know what to do with all of this.”

Percy wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to having other people come to him for advice. But it seemed to be happening more and more often. Once upon a time he’d have made an excuse and called Annabeth, but who knew what could happen before she got here. “Okay, so just to make sure that I’m following, some anonymous group delivered a message and threatened to hurt your mortal siblings,” he took a breath remembering Gabby and her pudgy smile, her thick dark locks and her bright brown eyes, “effectively blackmailing you into cutting Terminus’ eyes out and in effect removing the pommerian line.” He tried to think like Annabeth and reached into his pocket, pulling out his pen. “Well, Riptide is here,” he said pulling the cap from it and watching it spring into a full celestial bronze sword, “which I’d say seems to support your theory. As you’re not exactly the type to mutilate anything for no reason, let alone the Roman god of boundaries, I’m going to believe you on the blackmailing thing.” He paused for a second. “Do you remember anything else?”

The next minute consisted of Percy listing something within his recap of the items that had been presented to him and Z affirming them with a soft ‘yes’ followed by a nod of his head. It was a lot to take in, he was sure. The fact that the doctor had dealt with all of this in less than twenty-four hours of him coming to Percy now was really an achievement in, and of, itself. He took a step back when the man’s signature pen turned into a beautiful sword, but idly, his neck began to ache. Would he suffer a punishment from a blade crafted like that? “Splendid,” he murmured, eyes wide and rimmed with pink at the tear ducts. “The ink on the page had moved before. It showed images of Arlo and Harmony, but before they flashed away, it seemed like they were looking right at me. I’m not sure if that means anything...It could be nothing.” Something dawned on him and he furrowed his brow. “Also...I hypnotized a lot of people to get to Terminus, borrowed the branch from the Hypnos Cabin, and used it on Terminus so that he wouldn’t remember who took his eyes. I returned the branch though, promise…”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Percy listened carefully to exactly what Z had to say. It was a lot to take in, but someone had taken advantage of a Greek. Someone had forced him to do something in the name of protecting his family and now they had left him to clean up the mess. But everything from the pain in Z’s eyes to the fact that he didn’t look like he’d ever sleep again, it all convinced him that he had to really do something here. “Listen, Z, what you went through wasn’t pretty but it wasn’t your decision. You were doing what you had to to help Arlo and Harmony,” he paused and scratched his chin before pulling out his phone and holding it out for Z. “If you want, you can put their addresses in here and I’ll get my friend Grover to look into them, he’s a lord of the Wild so he can actually find out where they are and if they’re safe a lot faster than we could.” He bit his lip for a moment, before taking the mason and looking at it. “Whoever blackmailed you is probably coming after this next,” he said gingerly, still terrified of seeing Terminus’ eyes floating about.

Words of affirmation left Percy and it took a lot in Z not to simply lose it right there. The last thing he thought he’d receive from anyone was understanding; not even he could offer that to himself. He felt more akin to a monster than a person. What he was capable of, he hoped no one else would ever have to find out. “Yes, of course,” he managed to get out before he wrapped a hand around the phone offered to him. He thought for a moment, eyes closed, as he attempted to peer through his own memories and find out the addresses of his siblings. Once he’d done so, he typed them out and set the phone back on top of the counter. The next problem that hung over his head was the jar. “I figured I would hide them, even from myself, until I knew my siblings were safe and then return them to Terminus.” His face showed a mix of fear and resolution. “I’m not sure what fate would be worse...them finding this, or the Senate.”

Biting his lip, Percy sighed. “I’m not sure how easy returning eyes to a god is going to be, I mean it doesn’t work like that for mortals and demigods so there really is no guarantee that it will work in the same way with divine beings but I guess we never know. I always just assumed that Terminus would be able to regenerate but apparently not…” he frowned gently and stroked his stubble as he considered the situation that they were in. “The Senate for the moment claims to be serving Rome. The Pommerian line stops them from actually having to police the city for any real sort of violent crime, so I guess that means that they would want to return the eyes, but I don’t trust them and neither should you.” He frowned and sighed. “Would you like me to keep them for the moment?” he asked as he took his phone off of Z and saved the details that he would later send to Grover. “I can keep them safe and somewhere that you won’t know the location of…” The idea of actually keeping a god’s eyes was repugnant. But Z was his friend as well as Annabeth’s and he wasn’t going to let a friend in need down. Not now, not ever.

Childishly, Z had clung to the idea that the return would be as smooth as the removal. He’d grab the branch again, approach the god of boundaries, and insert his eyes after hypnotizing him. Terminus would be at a disadvantage without any optics, given that Z could bypass the need to form a visual link if he could simply get close enough to make physical contact. Realizing that such a mission may not even be possible only made him feel worse. He’d not only temporarily disposed of the god, he had potentially done permanent damage. What would become of the Roman’s boundaries without Terminus? What would become of New Rome? “I...I would like that very much,” he said softly, reaching already to fold the letter up and place it in his satchel. “I’m terribly sorry for unloading this on you...especially now. Things are only getting worse here and people on your side are losing a battle and I’m here asking you to put yourself in more danger. I just…” He fought the urge to sink his teeth into his lower lip. “I’m not equipped for any of this. Whoever sent this knew more about what I was capable of than I did. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not again. This was too much.”

The pain that Percy saw in Z was incredible. It was crippling, heart wrenching. Truly terrible pain that he didn’t possibly know how to comprehend. Seeing that sort of pain and doing nothing about it was something that Percy couldn’t possibly do. He’d never been good at ignoring the suffering of others, especially those who he counted amongst friends. “Don’t apologise, you didn’t deserve to go through any of this. No one deserves to have their family threatened.” He sighed gently, he couldn’t imagine what he would do if he encountered a situation like this. His family was everything to him. “I’ll do what I can to keep this as safe as possible,” he promised, sliding the mason jar closer to him and stashing it in a cupboard for now. He would bury it beneath the lake later. “You won’t have to hurt anyone again, we’ll put things in place that will protect your family. If this happens again we will be ready for it this time.”

“Sorry,” Z muttered a moment after Percy spoke, the word leaving him softly and privately. The word of apology was like a silent prayer, one that was spoken over and over again because each time made him feel smaller. Small was good. Small didn’t get noticed by less than savory forces intent on turning him into a weapon. “Thank you, Percy.” He set his eyes on the other man, trying his best to give him a smile but it looked more like he was bracing himself for something bad to happen. His eyes were already getting misty. Maybe there was a chance for things to turn around. “Thank you so much.”

Stepping around the counter, Percy reached out and hugged Z. It looked like he needed a hug. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do about this, but they would fix this in one way or another. “For what it is worth,” he said quietly with a sad smile, “I forgive you, not that any of this could really be blamed on you, I hope that in time you learn to forgive yourself for the things that you will have to do to survive this world. None of this is going to be easy. But you’re a survivor.” He stepped away and placed an arm on Z’s shoulder. “What else are friends for if not for taking on godly parts and protecting them from the potential forces of evil?” he laughed gently and tried to smile, “No offense, but you’re not exactly qualified in this area. Everything will be fine.”

Among the things Z had expected when approaching Percy and Annabeth’s doorstep, a hug or any sort of equivalent embrace was not among them. He had expected scolding and then solutions. To receive solutions and then affirmation was certainly relieving, but it also seemed to only make him feel more guilty. Z was monstrous and Percy still forgave him. He wasn’t deserving of that. “If I ever doubted your charisma before, I certainly can’t now,” he mused, trying to lighten his tone as he gave the smile a second attempt. His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath and he squeezed the strap of his satchel. “The hero business isn’t really my expertise. I’m thankful that there are people here like you and Annabeth, or Jason or, I assume, Reyna and Frank. You do a lot for us...I just hope I don’t become another reason for them to hate us.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Percy shrugged. “My charisma was never really in doubt though was it,” he said, trying to lighten the mood slightly. Shrugging gently, he tapped the top of the counter top. “Some people are going to hate you regardless of what you do Z, what you have to learn to do is to decide who is worth fighting for and why you are fighting. I fight because of my friends, my family and because after this many years New Rome has become my home, I’m no more a hero than anyone else who can say the same.”

If Z were of clear conscience and a lack of distress, he wouldn’t have hesitated to dramatically roll his eyes at the man in front of him. Instead, he tipped his head to the side. “I haven’t met a hero of Olympus who didn’t have questionable charisma,” he teased half-heartedly. What Percy said resonated with him, though. He had to pick a side eventually. As much as he cared for being neutral, his reason exploits were going to force him into the fray regardless of whether he fought or stood at the side. “I don’t want to fight.” The words left him so fast, he scrambled to put them back. They hung in the air like a wet blanket cast out to dry. “...I never wanted that, but I don’t have much choice now, do I?” A dead chuckle wisped out of him.

Taking a breath, Percy gazed at Z and wondered how best to put what he was about to say. “Well that makes me feel slightly better,” he admitted before scratching at the hairs on his face. “You don’t have to fight, you can help people in your own way. You’ve got medical training, you’re intelligent, we don’t just need fighters….” he sighed gently. “I fear if whoever this was is willing to go to these lengths to get your assistance now, then they’re going to be willing to do something like this again. That sort of evil can’t be left unchecked. You always have a choice, you can always do the right thing too.” He moved back to his now cold hot chocolate and sipped it before wincing. “Not as good cold,” he explained placing it in the microwave. “I have every faith in you Z.”

Z was thankful to have run into Percy and Annabeth. To have people who are well versed in this world meant there was a foundation to lean on when things caved in. It also meant he had people to look up to, heroes to idolize, who would serve as inspiration to which people like him could draw strength. He wanted to return their favor with as much help as he could. It was why he continued to help Annabeth and why, for the first time today, his heart felt lighter with hope. “I will—do the right thing, I mean,” he said softly, rubbing at his neck again. “Starting with taking up no more of your time, Mister Percy. I...have some things I must attend to. Thank you, again...What you’re doing for me...and the faith you have in me...I’ll never be able to repay, but I will work tirelessly to try.”

#p: z #f&gwriting #para #chatzy para #eye have no eyedea what to do

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twicetolivetwicetodie · 7 years

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I figured it was time a posted a portion of a fic I’ve been working on. This fic takes place between 3x20 and 3x21. Barry has shut himself away from the team after discovering he’s Savitar.

**********

"Barry?" Iris opened the door slowly, careful not to startle him. From what Cisco told her, he wasn't in the best state of mind, but she couldn't stay away for any longer, no matter what Barry wanted. She didn't know what she expected to find when she made her way into the apartment, but it certainly wasn't this. The place was in shambles, garbage overflowing from the trash can and scattered onto the floor, opened DVD cases with missing discs spread throughout the apartment. One thing was amiss compared to the tatters the rest of the apartment was in. The sink was spotless, not a single dish or glass was in it, and if she didn't know any better she would have said that no one had lived in the apartment for days. Her breath caught in her throat. Dad was right, he wasn't eating. Barry was splayed across the couch, just staring at the ceiling, his eyes not appearing to move. If she hadn't seen him move slightly, he would've appeared dead. "Oh, Barry." she thought. "What are you doing to yourself?"

"I told you not to come back here, Cisco."

Iris was startled, she didn't think he had been aware of her presence.

His voice sounded hollow, emotionless, and exhausted. As though it took every ounce of energy to make his voice form words. "Just leave me be. I don't need your pity."

Iris made her way around the couch, and took in just how poorly her fiancee had been faring. Cisco hadn't been exaggerating when he had said that Barry was a "hot mess". His eyes were red from tears, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, a week's growth of stubble on his face. He looked like Hell, which considering what he'd been through of late, the most significant being discovering the identity of Savitar, this shouldn't have surprised her. She supposed she hadn't expected him to react so dramatically. Savitar wasn't really him, not the real him at least. But there was no way to predict what was going through his head, not until he was ready to open up. And at the state of him right now, that would take time.

She knelt in front of him, and took his face in his hands. She felt the tears begin to fall from her eyes. "Baby, why are you doing this to yourself?"

Barry jumped back from her touch, as though noticing her for the first time. "Iris?" He seemed to choke on her name, his voice hoarse. "No." His arms started shaking violently, fear evident in his face. He was afraid...of her? "No. No. No. No. I didn't want you to see me. Not like this."

He seemed to notice the errant movement of his arms, and wrapped them around himself in an attempt to calm the tremors, but that only seemed to make it worse.

Iris took a seat next to him on the couch, and took his shaking hands into hers. She held them for a few minutes, not saying anything, before the shaking ceased. Barry took a deep breath, but didn't let go of her hands. In fact, He seemed to clasp them tighter. Seeing him like this further confirmed what she had been thinking since the moment he locked himself away from the world as a result of discovering Savitar's identity: She had to survive. Not just for herself and Dad and Wally...but for him. Her father and brother would be devastated if she died, but they would be able to move on. But Barry....if she died, and in his arms no less as his 2024 self had informed him, his mind wouldn't survive long.

"You don't have to say anything." Iris said. "I'm just going to sit here with you. You shouldn't be alone right now. In all honesty, you shouldn't have been alone from the beginning. I know you wanted space, but we shouldn't have let this go on for so long. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." His voice was barely audible. "You trusted me. But I'm not worthy of your trust. Or anyone's. Not anymore."

"Barry..."

"I don't know how I didn't see it before. The me from 2046 was warning Rip Hunter about Savitar, not Flashpoint. He needed Rip to know about the monster that I'd become."

"Barry, you're not a monster. And you'll never become a monster."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Savitar is a time remnant. He's piece of you that splintered off and became his own person. His own monster. Whatever he became. Whatever twisted choices he made. He isn't you."

"But he could be. Something could go horribly wrong in my life that sends me over the edge. Anyone on the team could die and it would be my fault...put me on the path to becoming him. I'm a ticking time bomb, Iris. It's only a matter of time before I explode."

"Surely you don't believe that."

"I don't know what to believe."

"If you can't believe in yourself right now, That's okay. We can get you there. But at least believe that together as a team we can save me."

"Okay." Tears began to fall. He was silent for a few moments.

"I know locking myself away for a week seemed excessive, but I didn't know what else to do. I can't eat. I can't sleep. Not a single hour goes by without me thinking about the future. Nightmares...panic attacks and the accompanying tremors...I can't be the Flash like this."

"Then let us help you. You don't have to do this alone."

He lowered his head, looking at the ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry, I just wasn't thinking." He put his head in his hands. "I've gotten stuck in my head a lot lately. I didn't even realize it until Joe, Cisco. And you came to see me."

Iris didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. To say she was worried was an understatement, particularly after what Cisco had told her what had happened last time he and Dad had come to see him. That's when she knew things had taken a turn for the worse. Chronic anxiety was one thing, but when you started hallucinating your friends as your enemies...

He began to speak again. "My powers are erratic. I can't control them anymore. I have no business saving lives when I can barely function. My enemies would destroy me without a second glance. Not that I'd mind." He laughed bitterly. "They'd be doing me a favor."

Iris's breath caught in her throat. "Barry, please tell me you're not serious. Please tell me that you haven't considered killing yourself."

"I..." He looked away from her.

"I thought that maybe...if I just...ended it all...Savitar would never exist. And then you would be safe."

"But you wouldn't be."

"I thought you would understand." He sounded upset. "I don't matter. Cisco, Wally, Jesse...they'd be more than willing to protect this city if I was gone. But you...you're more important than anything in the multiverse."

"Do you really believe that you don't matter?"

"Yes." His voice sounded rough. "I knew that pills would be too fast for my metabolism, so I thought if I just vibrated my hand through my chest..." His hand started vibrating then, not with anxiety this time, but with super speed. Iris grabbed his hand, terrified he would hurt himself.

"Please, Barry." She was crying now. "Please stop doing this to yourself."

"I don't know how." He said, his voice quiet.

"Barry, you..." tears were streaming down Iris's face, her hand stroking his hair in an effort to soothe his anxiety. He began shaking again, his heart pounding out of his chest, tears streaking his own face. "You need help. The fact that you didn’t tell anyone what was wrong, that you shut yourself away. It's not healthy, you know that, right?" Barry said nothing. "Just...promise me after this is all over, you'll get some help with this? In all honesty, we all could use it, but you most of all."

"I can't...I can't."

"Barry?"

"Don't you understand? I'm Savitar." His voice cracked, and more tears came streaming down his face. "I'm going to kill you. Oh, God, I'm going to kill you. I can't stop it. I can't stop it."

Iris held him and let him cry, with him still repeating "I can't stop it. I can't stop it."

"Shh... It'll be okay. We'll figure it out, Barry. We'll figure it out. God help me if I let you destroy yourself."

She held him as he cried, his head in her lap, her stroking his hair as though soothing a child. She was reminded of when they were children, and they sat just like this in the middle of the night, Barry crying in her lap over his mother's murder and his father's imprisonment. It had been so long since that day. Now His father was dead too, murdered in front of him no less. She knew that still haunted him. He never had a chance to mourn, and he never spoke about it. He had gone through so much in his 28 years, but none so much as in the past three years since he became the Flash. It was only a matter of time before he shattered.

A few hours went by before he fell asleep. He had begged her to not let him fall asleep, desperation in his eyes. It broke her heart, but she let him sleep. He needed it, considering he hadn't slept in three days, so terrified of what he would see when he closed his eyes.

He hadn't slept for more than two hours before he started moaning in his sleep. It wasn't very audible at first, but then the moans gradually grew into sobs.

"Barry?"

His dreams must have gotten violent, because he started thrashing in his sleep, his arms flailing. "Barry!" She tried to shake him awake, panic entering her own voice. She didn't need to wait long before he woke up screaming, grasping her arms as he sat up as though they were his lifeline. His arms were spasming erratically, his breaths coming in short gasps.

"Barry." She said, trying to remain calm, as difficult it was. "You need to breathe. Can you breathe with me?"

He nodded, she took several deep breaths, acting as his breathing machine in a way, and though his arms were still slightly shaking, his breathing eventually relaxed.

"Barry..."

"Bathroom." He gasped.

She wasn't sure if he could make it there alone, so she led him there on shaky limbs before he vomited into the toilet.

He laid his head against the toilet for a few moments, breathing heavily.

"Does this happen often?" Iris asked. "You getting sick after a nightmare?"

He nodded. "It doesn't happen every night, but often enough." He paused. "When Cisco and Joe stopped by, Cisco said that my dreams weren't normal, that they'd gone beyond nightmares, that they'd turned into night terrors. I don't even know what that means."

#writing #fics #i haven't written fic in awhile so I may be rusty #the flash #iris west #barry allen #westallen #hurt/comfort #tw: sucide mention #this isn't anywhere near finished

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backtothestart02 · 7 years

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He is Home to Me

SPOILERS!!!!!

A/N: I’m putting most of this under the cut because it is based not only off of the 3x19 promo but also that HUGE Savitar spoiler that was floating around a couple weeks ago. Enter at your own risk.

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for being the most epic beta ever & beta’ing this whole thing (12 pgs, 5,000+ words) in less than an hour and a half. QUEEN.

NOTE: I did do a bunch more grammatical edits after posting here & tumblr doesn't want to repost a whole 'nother 5,000 words lol, so if you want to see the BEST version of this, I highly recommend reading it on AO3 - and on FFnet when I upload it there. :)

Synopsis: Based off 3x19 promo (& spoilers) - Barry comes back from 2024 with confirmation of who Savitar really is. It’s so crushing he can’t face the team, especially not Iris.

(#2) A/N: This fic is inspired by the theory that has been floating around for months, and the bombshell a jerk reporter dropped, that Barry is likely Savitar (or at least he looks like him). So this fic is about Barry coming back from 2024 with this knowledge, telling the team, and the fall out from all that. Obviously this was written BEFORE 3x19 aired, so any details of what actually happened while Barry was in 2024 are based entirely on what the promo gave us or any spoilers we already had. Minor references to the Killer Frost subplot.

The speed force hummed around him in the familiar blurring colors of blue and white. He was desperate to get out of 2024, to get back home to a place where he could breathe again, though he worried there wouldn’t be a difference. Because now he knew things. Things he wouldn’t be able to hide, or else how could he help his team then? He couldn’t lie to them. But he also didn’t know what good telling the truth would do. It would make matters worse. It would leave them stranded.

Before Barry could make any concrete decision on how to proceed, his mind refocused, and he was there in STAR Labs in front of younger, more hopeful versions of the people he’d just left behind. And of course, the one person that hadn’t been there at all.

“Barry!” He heard Cisco shout, and then felt everyone crowding around him in his weariness as he slowly came to a grip with the new reality - or the old one?

Looking on, everyone could see their hero looked tired, like he’d just lived through a nightmare and wasn’t quite grasping that he was awake now – and safe.

“Barry?” Iris ventured, slowly coming towards him.

She was almost to him when his head snapped up, his eyes wide with horror. The expression alone was enough to make her stop, but then the concern on his face twisted into an agony she’d never seen there before.

“Stay away from me, Iris,” he said, not cold or cruel but almost desperate.

Her brows furrowed, and Joe took a step toward them.

“Bear.”

Barry’s gaze switched to his, and he swallowed hard.

“What did you see?” he asked.

Barry turned away from him and started to pace, running his hand through his hair, trying to put into words everything he’d seen and felt, what the world had become without Iris West and who the cause of her demise truly was.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

“I saw all of us.” He lifted his head to look at Joe. “I saw you.” He turned to look at Cisco. “And you.” He didn’t dare look at Wally, was still too shaken up by the sight of him in a wheelchair. “Wally too, and…” He took a breath. “I saw myself.”

“Did you find out who Savitar is?” Joe asked.

The words hit him as hard as the answer had the moment he’d realized it – or been told. It was hard to remember which had really happened now. Savitar’s true identity had blinded him so much he’d nearly passed out in a back alley of 2024 Central City. Then he’d had to fend off metahumans. And then…

“Yes,” he said quietly, breaking the silence after as much of a delay as he could get away with.

Instinctively, everyone moved a little bit closer.

“Who…wh-who is he?” Iris asked. Joe came beside her and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

Barry couldn’t look at her for a while. He was glad she had Joe, but he hated that she was the one to ask. He could already see everyone recoiling from him in his mind as soon as he gave them the answer they all thought they wanted.

“Is it someone we know?” Cisco asked, probably able to tell the identity was going to crush them all, but maybe that gradual questioning was easier than a blunt answer.

“Yes,” Barry said, a tear trickling down his cheek.

Iris broke free of her father’s hold and went to Barry before he could stop her.

“Oh my god, Barry, who is it?”

He flinched and tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him. Then she placed her hands on his face and forced to look at him.

“Tell me,” she pleaded on a soft whisper. “The sooner we all know the sooner we can stop him.”

His breath hitched. He knew he couldn’t put off the inevitable for a moment longer. He was ready for the fear and hatred, ready to be disowned and turned against. How could anyone believe in him once they knew? How could anyone not feel betrayed, not feel like they’d been wasting their time on someone they believed to be good and a hero? Not Joe, not even Iris would stand by him now.

After all, how did one defeat a future version of one’s self.

“It’s me.”

Iris’s brows furrowed.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“It’s me, Iris. A future version of me comes back in time and kills you.”

The initial horror in his eyes faded to instantly be replaced by confusion and firm denial.

“No,” she said. “No, there’s no way.”

She turned to the others to get back up, but they had already started to create some distance between themselves and their hero. Even her dad…

“Iris.”

The word was firm, and when she turned to look at Joe, she saw at the no-nonsense look in his eyes. He held his hand out to her, but there was no warmth there. It was a command. He didn’t trust she was safe even now, standing so close to her one day would-be killer.

She scoffed. “Dad.”

“Iris, he’s right.”

She turned around to look at her Barry, the man she loved more than anything. He was inching away again and she knew in a moment he’d be away from all of them, unable to look them in the eye.

“If I’m capable of…of hurting you in the future.” He shook his head. “Who knows what I’m capable of now?”

“Bar—”

Her bottom lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. But Joe cut off any further interaction by catching her off guard and pulling her to his side. By the time she’d pushed herself away again, upset beyond belief by her father’s severe behavior, Barry was gone, leaving all of them only with the heavy bombshell he’d brought back from the future.

The god of speed, the man responsible for so much death and destruction, was their Barry in the future. A hero turned into the most powerful evil villain any of them had encountered.

What do we do now? hung in the air, but nobody moved, and nobody said a word.

…

Barry was glad for the darkness at the waterfront. He was glad for the sole light drawn from the full moon and the soft lapping of waves against the pier.

Perhaps glad wasn’t the right word, but he did feel a sense of relief.

There was no one around to judge him or be afraid of him. No sense of impending disaster. With any luck his future self wouldn’t show up to taunt him about his fate. It was already eating him up inside, already driving him mad with hatred and despair.

How could he ever be capable of killing Iris? The woman who mattered to him more than anyone else in the world. How could he?

Every day since the moment he met her he’d wanted nothing more than to make her laugh and smile and feel loved. He fed off her light and relished in it. Her smile dazzled him. Her joy made him giddy. And whenever she was hurt, when he found her crying, no matter how rare it was, it absolutely destroyed him.

How could he be the cause of bringing her pain? Of ending her life?

What had happened that would twist him to the point that the one core part of him changed so drastically? What made him into a villain?

His eyes filled with tears. He did nothing to stop them from flooding down his face. The wind whipped around him, drying his skin and then making his eyes burn. His hair tossed about and he realized then how careless he was being.

Just because it was the middle of the night didn’t mean people couldn’t still be out. If someone were to walk by, see him with his cowl down, and realize…

Not that it mattered, he thought sullenly.

The Flash was a fraud, a demon in disguise. The inevitability of him becoming a villain was set in stone as clearly as Caitlin’s had been.

What hero had he even been to her? He’d barely wasted any time convincing the team after he found out what happened that he still needed to go into the future. Caitlin would still be Killer Frost when he returned. She would still need to be found, according to the headlines broadcasted a month from now.

All that had mattered was finding out other clues about the future, most importantly Savitar’s identity.

Well, he found it.

Even Killer Frost wasn’t the monster he would turn out to be.

He inched closer to the water and looked down into it, wondered how cold it was and how hard it would be to breathe if you were to be pushed under.

Or go willingly.

…

Back at STAR Labs, Iris struggled to hold onto her sanity as she fought to convince the team - most importantly her father - that their Barry, 2017 Barry, wasn’t a threat.

“Can’t you see he’s a danger, Iris? He kills you!”

“Dad. He’s Barry. Our Barry.”

“Yeah, and ‘our Barry’ becomes so twisted that he comes back and murders you, the woman he supposedly loves.”

“Something must have happened,” she’d protested. There was no point trying to convince him that Barry loved her. Anyone could see that he did. “Barry would never do this. You know he wouldn’t.”

Joe said nothing, only shook his head.

“He’s like a son to you,” she cried out, in disbelief that he would turn on Barry so quickly and that not even she could persuade him otherwise. “You know him!”

His shoulders sunk in on themselves, and Joe heaved a heavy sigh, “I thought I did.”

Iris spun around to Cisco…Wally…Julian…HR in the hopes of getting back up, but they all turned away from her. Wally shook his head, part disgust, part sadness that she could be so blinded by her love as to not see what was right in front of her. Julian was at a loss. Months earlier he probably could’ve gotten right on board with hating Barry – “I knew there was something off about him. All along he was the one we should’ve been afraid of,” he might have said. Now he looked conflicted, but not enough to back her up.

“He’s your best friend, Cisco,” Iris spat, positive if anyone would believe Barry wasn’t as evil as he’d just told them all he’d be, it would be Cisco.

But Cisco sighed and looked at her just as sadly, when he had the courage to look at her at all.

“I don’t know, Iris. Barry is the only one that went to the future and found out who Savitar was. He has no reason to lie to us. And why would he deliberately tell us it was himself, of all people?” He sank into himself a little too. “It has to be true.”

Her eyes moved to H.R., her one last hope, but all he did was shake his head and glue his eyes to the floor. There was no knowing what he thought, but he sure wasn’t going to help defend Barry to her father.

And so, Iris left STAR Labs and returned home to hers and Barry’s loft, the one place she felt safe and warm and not crazy.

There was no denying that Barry’s announcement had hit them all hard. She hadn’t let herself think about it too much because she was so appalled by everyone’s instant wariness and fear of Barry, who’d looked absolutely crushed by what he’d had to reveal.

As time passed and she sat alone on the windowsill where he’d proposed, the possibility that her Barry might be the one to… Well, it did weight on her. It made her sick to her stomach, and it broke her heart. But as much as it did all those things, she knew for Barry it must be ten times worse than everyone’s fear and anger and shock combined.

Here he had been so desperately trying to save her, using whatever means necessary, to the point that he almost lost what made Barry, Barry, and the Flash, the Flash - only to find out that he was the cause of it.

No.

She refused to believe that. It wasn’t him. There had to be some sort of explanation. Wells wasn’t Wells and Zoom hadn’t been Jay. There was no way Savitar, the man fated to kill her in less than a month was the love of her life; her heroic, heart of gold Barry Allen.

Her Barry Allen would never hurt her, but her Barry Allen was hurting, consumed with guilt and drowning in the sadness and rage of what he believed he would one day become. He feared even now he was a threat to her life.

Iris lifted her phone to her ear, hand shaking. She swallowed hard and listened to the repeated rings. The possibility he would answer was slim, she knew, but that hadn’t stopped her from needing to call him.

All she wanted to do was hold him, to tell him it wasn’t him, that there had to be something they didn’t know, something he hadn’t seen. A future version of himself coming back in time to murder the woman he loved? Not a single part of it made sense.

But her Barry refused to pick up his phone. She didn’t know where he was or what he was doing.

All she knew was that she needed to be with him. She needed to remind him there was always another way, that she wasn’t afraid of him, and that they would face this together, whatever evil existed behind that face that wasn’t her Barry would be defeated.

But how could she do any of that if she didn’t even know where he was?

“Hey, Barry,” she sighed into the phone. “I know you’re hurting and you’re afraid. You’re scared of what you think you might do to me. But I need you to know you’re not that person. You’re not Savitar. I love you. I’m not afraid of you. You make me feel safe. Just…” Her breath caught in her throat, and she knew she was near tears. “Please come home.”

She ended the call and cradled the phone in her lap.

“Come home to me, Barry,” she whispered, gazing out into the night, the city stretching out before her.

Her eyes searched the scene for any sign of a flash of red, any reassurance that he was coming home to her. Maybe he had gotten her message and just couldn’t bring himself to respond. Maybe he would phase through their front door and just stand there. And then she’d go to him and he’d fall into her and she’d hold him close and he’d let her be the rock he needed even though his news had shaken her just as much.

She just wanted him home.

But there was no sign of him. Only sparse city lights and the deep darkness on the horizon.

…

At 3 a.m. Iris strode into the cortex at STAR Labs to find Cisco’s head starting to bob and his body slouch over as he fought to stay awake. Her clicking heels must’ve been enough to jolt him fully awake though because as soon as she was before him, he snapped to attention and looked at him with wide eyes, quickly slurping up the rest of his cherry slushie.

“Find Barry,” she demanded, her eyes full of fire, leaving no room for discussion.

Very slowly Cisco set his empty slushie cup down.

“I know you can find him,” she informed him. “You have a tracker on his suit and you can track him by the lightning in his system, the same way King Shark tracked him down.” She placed her hands on his desk and leaned towards him, successfully coming across with just enough intimidation to make Cisco nervous. “So, don’t tell me you can’t find him, because I know for a fact that you can.”

Silence hung between them, but Cisco knew he couldn’t let it last much longer. He was already risking his own personal health and well-being by not doing what she said immediately.

“How do you know I was here?” he finally said cautiously.

Iris’s nails dug into her hips where her hands were currently propped due to her impatience, but apparently, the question was warranted because she didn’t immediately strangle him. He doubted though that she hadn’t considered it.

“You weren’t at your apartment,” she said, informing him loud and clear that she’d checked there first. Cisco closed his eyes as she revealed the next piece of news that he knew would solidify his doom. “And there was a note on the door,” she said. “For Barry.”

He opened his eyes slowly, wincing.

“Something tell me it’s not a forgery,” she seethed.

“So…I may have…offered him a place to stay if he didn’t feel comfortable going home to you.”

“But you came here because you’re afraid of him.”

He sighed and hung his head.

“Iris—”

“Or is that not why you came here?” She frowned and suddenly looked around his desk, saw the research flowing over and then the face recognition program glowing on his computer when she rounded the corner to see exactly what he was working on. She sighed.

“I came here to keep looking for Caitlin,” he muttered under his breath. “Obviously, Barry isn’t going to be doing that any time soon.”

Iris’s eyes flashed to his sunken form, annoyed and infuriated but also feeling a sense of guilt and an extreme degree of compassion, because in the fall out of Barry’s revelation from 2024, neither Killer Frost nor Caitlin Snow’s name had been mentioned.

Everyone must have just left after I did, Iris thought, lamenting.

But then another thought occurred to her and her eyes widened in relief.

“You don’t believe he’s evil,” she said, half a gasp in every word he said.

“He’s not evil yet,” Cisco clarified, not looking at her, miraculously letting it slide that she’d completely ignored his comment about Caitlin.

“And the future can be changed,” Iris said excitedly.

“…yes,” he said reluctantly.

“Just like my death can be prevented, so can Barry’s future self not turn evil. We can keep Savitar from ever existing.”

Cisco looked up at her then.

“Well, aren’t you just chipper all of a sudden.”

Iris reined in the hope that had flowered in her and came to sit down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You need Barry to find Caitlin, right?”

He hesitated and then nodded. “Right.”

“And you don’t believe Barry is evil. You don’t believe our Barry is evil.”

Hesitation again, but followed by another nod.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

Her smile spread. “Then please, Cisco.” She squeezed his arm encouragingly. “Find our Barry.”

He turned to look at her, searched her pleading eyes. Tears were starting to well up, despite her recent surge of positivity.

“Help me bring him home.”

…

They found him exactly where Cisco’s tech had said they would, on the waterfront. He was standing on the edge of a pier looking down into the dark gentle waves. Cisco and Iris shared a look and then Iris squeezed his hand.

“Don’t worry, Cisco. I’ve got this.”

Reluctantly he let her walk away from him, words he couldn’t form on the tip of his tongue.

She turned to look back at him one more time before proceeding.

“It’s okay,” she said, able to squeeze out one tremulous reassuring smile that she hoped would convince him.

Cisco nodded and took a step back, gesturing to the car they’d come in.

“I’ll just be… If you need anything or if something hap—”

“It won’t,” she cut him off, then forced herself to relax so his uneasiness wouldn’t rise up again. She didn’t want him to doubt helping her find Barry. “But thank you.”

She turned back to the waterfront before Cisco could try to dissuade her – since she knew that was still a possibility – and was pleased to find Barry where he’d been before.

He hadn’t spotted them and run off. He hadn’t done the unthinkable and dived into the water with no intention of resurfacing. He just stood there staring, and as she got closer she could see his shoulders shaking.

Any nerves she had dissolved when she saw him lift his hand up to wipe something off his face. Tears. He was crying.

Iris slipped out of her heels and left them on the grass when she reached the edge of the park. She didn’t want any sound to make him run off. She wanted there to be a peace in her arrival, not tension. Granted even a slow approach was bound to surprise him, but she couldn’t help that. With any luck, he’d let her talk to him, and maybe that could lead to him coming home.

One foot halfway on the pier and the wooden board groaned underneath her. She stifled a curse. Of course, she should have remembered how old this pier was. Her father had forbidden her and Barry from ever going on it because of how someone had fallen through it the summer before Barry came to live with them. That part had of course been fixed, but the rest of it hadn’t been and so it was forbidden.

That didn’t stop the two of them from sneaking out to it when school field trips were in the vicinity though.

She reminisced for a few achingly long moments in the memories that felt like a lifetime ago.

But the nostalgia came to an abrupt halt because Barry turned to look at her, eyes wide and stance tense. Neither moved for the space of an agonizingly long ten seconds, and then Barry broke the silence.

“Iris?” he gasped in a whisper, as if speaking in a normal tone would somehow stir a sense of danger. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. His voice wasn’t hard. It was just incredulous.

He wiped as his tears again when he saw how she was staring.

“I came to bring you home,” she said, her voice breaking.

Barry’s feet shifted, making Iris almost lunge towards him, because he was sooo very close to the edge.

But he seemed completely unaware of how close he’d gotten. It wasn’t intentional. She supposed she should be grateful for that.

He shook his head, looking at her sadly.

“I’m not coming home, Iris. Not now.” He glanced down at the water, and she knew what he was seriously considering. “Maybe not ever.”

“No, Barry.” She closed the distance between them – old rickety wooden boards be damned! – and stopped right in front of him. “That won’t solve anything, and you know it.”

His eyes searched hers desperately, tears filling them again.

“Won’t it? If I die, Savitar will never exist. Everything he’s done and is planning to do will never have happened.”

“No,” she said again. “No, just – stop.”

She took his hands in hers and held firm even when he tried to wriggle away.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he wondered, eventually abandoning the struggle. “In the future, I kill you.”

“You don’t kill me. Savitar does.” She looked up at him and cupped his face in her hands tightly. “And he won’t even do that because we’re going to stop it from happening. And not by killing yourself either.”

He curled his fingers around her hands on his face.

“But I’m Savitar,” he said. “Don’t you get that? Don’t you see how serious that is? How can you possibly trust me or even…even love me when you know what I’m capable of?”

Tears started to fall down both of their faces.

“It’s not you!” she insisted. “You don’t know that!”

“Iris—” His breath hitched.

“It could be another Barry from another earth. There are an infinite number of those, remember? Or it could be some face-changing technology, like what HR has from Earth 19! There could be a million explanations for why Savitar looks like you or why people say that it was you. He’s from the future so of course he would know everything about you. And how could you have thrown yourself into the speed force? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Barry struggled for a moment to come up with an answer.

“Maybe he lied about that part,” he said eventually.

“Maybe he lied about everything!” Iris sobbed.

She pulled him nearer, forced his head down to her level so she could press her forehead against his tightly and keep him from running. She needed to feel close to him. She needed him all around her. She needed him to not die, especially if he’d been deceived.

“Can’t you even consider that?” She sniffled, clutching then at his emblem. “You’re the Flash. You’re not a monster. And you’re my Barry Allen. You’re mine.”

His arms came around her and she sighed in relief, nestling into his embrace. The coldness of the suit became invisible because all she could feel was the heat of his body and his breath in her hair. All she could hear was his heart racing and their breaths so close together. This was home. This was everything. She refused to believe this was the end.

And when she lifted her head, his lips descended on hers, seeking refuge and forgiveness and love. She gave it all to him, and she was so very glad he’d initiated. She was so much shorter without her shoes, so would’ve been near impossible to kiss him if he wasn’t ready to let her love him.

But he had kissed her. He was still kissing her. And they were crying into their kisses, wanting nothing but this moment, wanting only to be safe and in love and to be out of this crazy, horrible situation.

Iris wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down further, deepening the kiss, tangling her tongue with his, feeling the thrill of his touch ripple down her spine and all over her body.

Finally in need of air, they parted a while later, but Barry didn’t pull away. He let his forehead rest against hers again and let himself breathe.

“You’re not evil, Barry,” she said quietly. “You’re good, and you’re mine. You belong to me.”

His arms closed even more snugly around her.

“Please come home,” she begged, a hitch to her voice, tears ready to make another appearance.

Barry let out a deep sigh and lifted his head. Then he lazily tucked some wild, dark strands of hair behind her ear, kissed the side of her face and stayed there for a while.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he murmured, nearly collapsing into her.

She clung to him tightly, holding onto him with all her strength, not wanting to be anywhere else in the world in that moment. Only ever wanting to be by his side as his partner, his rock, his solid ground forever.

“Then don’t be,” she whispered back. “Come home with me, and you’ll never be alone again.”

For all his doubts, for all the certainty of her death he must’ve seen in all the futures he’d been to, Barry let her words wash over him and decided at least tonight he would believe them.

He didn’t say anything else, but he nodded against her and let her steer him toward the end of the dock.

The relief she felt was unimaginable, and she could not have been more grateful that Cisco had stuck around because Barry was in no condition to race them home.

Iris sat in the back of the car and Cisco helped her get Barry inside. There the scarlet speedster lay across the back seat and passed out with his head in her lap, completely depleted of all energy but open at least for tonight to let someone keep him safe.

When Cisco arrived in front of their building, he turned back to look at his passengers and found Iris tenderly playing with Barry’s wind-tossed locks. Barry was still a goner, but he woke enough to assist in some way when Iris and Cisco needed to get him to the elevator.

Barry seemed to not even really register Cisco as anything other than a being helping him get to where his feet could not. When they reached the loft, his friends miraculously got him upstairs to the bedroom where they deposited him on the bed. Iris meant to go with Cisco to the door to thank him again and discuss in some form what life would be like for Team Flash going forward, but Barry sensed her moving away and started moaning and panicking, unaware of anything but the fact that she was leaving him.

“Irisss?” he slurred, rustling about on top of the sheets.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she soothed, coming to clasp his hand, which soothed him instantly. “I’m here.”

She looked over her shoulder to where Cisco was standing. The heartbreaking and wondering look on his face assured her like nothing could have.

“It’s okay, Iris.” Her lips parted to protested, but he shook his head to silence her. “We can talk tomorrow.”

She swallowed, unsure if that would suffice.

“He needs you,” Cisco said, gesturing to where Barry still held her hands tightly.

She sighed shakily as she followed his gaze.

“I know.”

“And you were right.”

Iris looked back again, her brows furrowed.

“He’s not Savitar,” he said. “He’s Barry. Our Barry. And we’re going to stop this.”

She felt the huge weight lift off her chest, and she almost wanted to laugh. She nodded, a small smile breaking through, a thank you in her eyes.

Cisco smiled back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Iris.” He glanced over at Barry and then back to her. “Maybe I’ll see both of you.”

Iris only smiled in farewell. Then she turned back to Barry as soon as Cisco had left the room. She slid out of her heels for the second time that night and managed to strip down and slip on one of Barry’s old t-shirts before he started to panic at her absence again.

Then she helped undress him and tucked him under the blankets. As quickly as possible, because he seemed to be unaware of her coming and going, she got herself underneath the covers and snuggled into his body, intertwining their legs and pressing herself close enough to feel his breath on her forehead and his heartbeat against her ear.

“I love you, Barry,” she whispered, not really caring if he wasn’t awake. He would hear it somehow, and she needed to say it.

Barry didn’t say anything in response, but she felt him wrap his arms more tightly around her, and that was more than enough.

He was her Barry. He was hers. And nothing was going to take him away from her. Nothing was going to take her away from him. Not some twisted evil version of himself, not an unseen villain entirely. They were going to fight whoever was against them, and they were going to win.

Barry wasn’t a monster. He was a wounded soul fighting to survive.

And in her arms, in their home…he would.

*Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #westallenedit #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #angst #spoilers #this one hurts #but it's really good I promise #I love how it turned out #the flash 319

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