Title: Fathers and Sons
Description: After Identity Crisis a hero Mourns...
Description: After Identity Crisis a hero Mourns...
Robin - November 20, 2004 04:26 AM (GMT)
“Its your Dad.”
“Dad…”
“Not again.”
“Dad…”
“He’s at the door!”
“Dad!”
“Its worth it.”
“Dad!”
“Keep my boy safe.”
“DAD!”
I’m running down the hallways, just like I’ve done a hundred times in the past. I completely by-pass the elevator and climb all 15 stories of stairs. My heart is beating like mad, and even with my vision blinded by tears, I don’t even try to wipe them away.
I can’t slow down. Not for anything. I’ve got to save him.
I can’t lose someone else. Not again.
But with every step that I take, it seems like I’m only getting farther away from my destination. I still don’t stop. Not for an instant.
This can’t be happening! Not now! All these years of lying and hiding the truth, were finally over. Why? Why him? Why us?
After what feels like an eternity, I can see the door, lying wide open and even from the hallway, the blood soaking into the rug is visible. My mouth opened and I scream out to his still body. In faint light reflected off the smooth surface of a boomerang that protrude from his chest…
That goddamn boomerang took him away from me!
I can feel Batman’s arms wrap tightly around me and in my ear I hear him whisper softly, “Tim’s it’s okay… It’s okay…I’ve got you.” I hold tightly onto him, wishing with all my heart that he were right. But he isn’t. Not this time.
Because when I looking into his eyes…
All I see is death.
“DAD!”
Timothy Alvin Drake shot up in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat, and his arms and legs were entangled in the sheets. At first he thought himself to be back in the safety of his own home, but the feel subsided when he looked out from under the four-poster bed to the expensively furnished bedroom of Wayne Manor.
Taking deep breaths, Tim ran a hand through his hair. It was the dream again. Every night, since it happened… Since he found him…
“Tim?” Tim didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. It came as a small bit of comfort to know he was there. “Are you alright?”
Bruce Wayne stepped out of a darkened corner of the room, and Tim could see that he was still wearing his batman costume, only without the cape and cowl. There was a bruise forming on his left cheek from a lucky shot some punk got off the night before. Tim felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t been out there with Bruce the night before, but for obvious reason he had been benched.
“Alfred is going to be angry,” Tim mumbled in an emotionless tone of voice. “You know how he feels about costumes in the Manor.”
“He’s strong,” Bruce said softly, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. “He’ll get over it. It was the nightmare, wasn’t it…?” Tim nodded weakly, and turned his gaze from his mentor. “Do you want to talk…?”
“No.”
Bruce sat for a long while, hoping that Tim would say something more. Maybe talk about what he was feeling. But he knew better than anyone that he shouldn’t push the issue. Reluctantly he stood up and moving to the window opened the curtains. Gazing out over the grounds of the Wayne Estate, he could see dark storm clouds rolling in from the west.
“I’m sorry Tim, but today’s…” Bruce paused as remembered a similar conversation with Tim four years past.
“His funeral,” Tim said softly. “My father’s funeral.
Prayer of Saint Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred let me sow love.
Where there is injury (pardon).
Where there is doubt (faith).
Where there is despair (hope).
Where there is darkness (light).
And where there is sadness (joy).
O divine master grant that I may
not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love
For it is in giving that we receive-
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.
The funeral service for Jack Drake was small. Only close family and friends were invited. The media was not even allowed within a 2-block radius of the cemetery.
Alfred Pennyworth, who had taken it upon him to handle all the funeral arrangements had made certain to that. Jack’s widow, Dana Drake was in no way emotionally prepared for the things needed, and Alfred would sooner be damned before he left young Timothy to handle such an ordeal.
Tim had been to far too many funerals for such a young man. This would have been the seventh funeral he had attended in the last year alone. First there had been the ones for Donna ‘Troia’ Troy and Lilith ‘Omen’ Clay after a Superman Cyborg had murdered them.
Afterwards there had been the events of the Gotham Gang War. Tim had first bore witness to his friend Darla Aquista getting murdered in the halls of his high school. Then there was the murder of the Clan’s ally, Orpheus. And to make matters worse, Tim’s ex-love Stephanie Brown AKA Spoiler, the girl responsible for the gang war, had been tortured to death by the villainous Black Mask and passed away shortly after the war had ended.
As the small crowd of people assembled around the grave, the aging Wayne butler looked about sadly, and his eyes rested on the defeated form of Timothy Drake. His stepmother Dana, was holding tightly onto Tim for all her worth. She had not stopped crying since it happened and Alfred could not blame her.
It had started two weeks ago when the wife of the Elongated Man, Sue Dibney had been murdered. She had been a beloved woman amongst the heroes of the world, and everyone had done all they could to track down the person responsible. But the killer of Sue had not stopped there. For the days that followed they threatened and manipulated the heroes. They had chosen other victims to aim their evil upon. Amongst them had been Tim’s father, stabbed through the chest by the villainous Captain Boomerang.
Boomerang as it turned out had not been the killer but rather a pawn used by the real mastermind. But that didn’t mean he didn’t get what was coming to him. Jack had been sent a gun by the true mastermind and had used it to kill Boomerang before he himself were slain.
But none of this matter to Alfred.
The entire ‘Family’ had turned out to support Tim and his stepmother. Bruce, Dick, Cassandra, Rachel, Selina, and Leslie had been the first ones to arrive and would more than likely be the last ones to leave and Barbara and the Birds and her father Jim Gordon had traveled back to Gotham just to be here.
Several of Tim’s friends from school had also come, including Ives, Callie, Bernard, the boys from Brentwood and even Tim’s ex-girlfriend Ariana. And at one point, Alfred could have sworn he saw the myserious Lady Shiva amongst the grave stones.
Alfred had been notified that there were those in the super-hero community that had also wanted to attend the funeral. Those small numbers of people who knew that Tim Drake was Robin, but that didn't matter to Bruce. He refused to invite them. He knew that Tim’s friends would want to be there for him, but they couldn’t risk it.
They couldn’t allow anyone to start asking questions as to why public heroes like Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy and the other Teen Titans were at a funeral for a simple businessman. No matter what the secret had to be kept.
But there were those few that refused to be left out, no matter what Batman said. Amongst them were Clark Kent and Wally West. Superman had never been as close with Tim as he had been with Dick, but the Kryptonian hero felt a need to be there for the boy. The Flash meanwhile continued to blame himself for Tim’s loss, saying that he should have been there since it was his villain.
“If only I had gotten Babs’ message…” Wally said to himself softly.
Dick Grayson, who stood besides his childhood friend, shook his head. “There was nothing you could have done Wally. There was nothing any of us could have done.”
“Ashes to Ashes,” recited the priest. “Dust to dust.”
Despite her slight hysteria, Dana was still able to drop a single red rose upon the casket of her deceased husband. Everyone turned to look at Tim, expecting him to do the same with the rose in his left hand, but he made no move and instead continued to stare down at the caskets.
“Oh lord…” Barbara gasped, when she notice Tim’s hand clenched tightly about the rose, the thorns cutting into his skin and causing small droplets of blood to fall.
Dick stepped forward and placed a strong hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Tim…”
The younger boy seemed to be brought out of deep thoughts and turned to look at Dick questioningly before he noticed the slight pain in his hand. “Oh…” he said softly. He took several uneasy steps toward the grave and dropped the rose besides Dana’s.
Robin - November 23, 2004 06:41 AM (GMT)
As the casket was dropped into the ground, many of the mourners began to disperse, returning to their cars so that they may drive to where the wake would be held. Others came over to Tim and Dana; so as to wish give their sympathies. Dana did her best to be attentive, but the grief became too overwhelming. Alfred of course, came to the young widow’s aid and shooed the people away before leading Dana back to the limo.
Tim though said little to nothing. He stood stiffly besides his stepmother and offered his hand to those paying their respects and did his best to smile at times, but that was about it. After Alfred had rescued his stepmother, most of the other mourners had left, but a few of Tim’s friends from school had tried to get him to talk.
Bruce watched from a safe distance while Ives tried to convince Tim to go with them to some sci-fi movie later that weekend.
“How’s he been hold up?”
Bruce turned to Barbara ‘Oracle’ Gordon as she wheeled herself besides him. The redheaded computer genius was a sight for sore eyes in his opion. Bruce would never say it aloud (since everyone else would say it for him), but she had been greatly missed.
After the Gang and the destruction of the Clocktower, Barbara had packed up what little she had left in the world, and using a state-of-the-art jet, she and the Birds of Prey had left Gotham so as to become a mobile team. This had been the first time Barbara had been back in Gotham since.
“He’s surviving,” Bruce answered, turning back to look at the children. Ives wasn’t getting anywhere with his best friend, and in the end could only given Tim a slight hug. Ariana Dzerchenko, Tim’s ex then wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. Reluctantly his friends began to leave with the rest of the crowds. “He’s doing far better than anyone could expect considering...”
“Poor Tim,” Barbara, said softly. “I just can’t believe all the hell he’s gone through this past year. Troia and Omen, and then Stephanie… Not to mention everything else. His relationship with Rachel, those attacks against the Titans... God.”
Barbara pushed back a strand of her fiery red hair and watched while Leslie Thompkins walked over to Tim’s side, with first-aid kit in hand and began to tend to the cuts he got from the rose. Dick Grayson joined the teenager and doctor with a look of great concern about him.
The All-Knowing Oracle could feel her heart breaking at the sight of Dick. Neither of them had spoken since she arrived back in Gotham. Neither felt ready, especially after all that had happened. Breaking her gaze, she turned back to Bruce.
“Has he… you know, put the costume on?”
Bruce tensed slightly and frowned. “No. Not since it happened. He says he doesn’t feel ready yet.” There was a beat of silence. “I can’t say I disagree.”
The two lapsed into a long silence, and watched as Leslie wrapped Tim’s hand in a bandage. Tim nodded in thanks and accepted a hug from the doctor, but both Barbara and Bruce could see from his body language that it was a forced and empty gesture. Leslie pulled back form the embrace and cupped Tim’s face in her hand. She whispered some thing to the boy, and moved back to where Alfred waited with the limo and Mrs. Drake.
Tim was left standing before the open grave of his father. He could feel the eyes of Bruce, Barbara, Dick, and possibly Cassandra and Rachel on him, but they were kind enough to keep their distance.
To say that he was feeling numb wouldn’t have described his current condition. He would later describe himself as simply 'going through the motions'. He knew it was only a matter of time before the sadness; anger, loss and fury hit him. He still found it hard to believe that his father was really gone.
All his life, Tim had wished to have some sort of relationship with his parents. But they had never found the time for him. His father and mother had always felt that their business was more important. When Tim had become Robin, he had found something to fill the void they left. He had felt himself to be a part of something bigger.
But then after his mother had been murdered, Jack had wanted to form a relationship with Tim. But now it was Tim who pulled away. His duties as Robin were often too important, and he was forced to lie and hide the truth form his father for three years. It soon became too much for Jack and he searched Tim’s room until he found the costume and the truth.
They had a rough patch for a while. Tim had been forced to retire as Robin, but after the gang war, Jack gave his blessing and let Tim retake his role at Batman’s side. Tim and his father had connected in a way they hadn’t since that day at the circus 13 years past.
And all that was taken away from him once again.
Tim opened his mouth, as if to say something but found nothing forthcoming.
Tim though said little to nothing. He stood stiffly besides his stepmother and offered his hand to those paying their respects and did his best to smile at times, but that was about it. After Alfred had rescued his stepmother, most of the other mourners had left, but a few of Tim’s friends from school had tried to get him to talk.
Bruce watched from a safe distance while Ives tried to convince Tim to go with them to some sci-fi movie later that weekend.
“How’s he been hold up?”
Bruce turned to Barbara ‘Oracle’ Gordon as she wheeled herself besides him. The redheaded computer genius was a sight for sore eyes in his opion. Bruce would never say it aloud (since everyone else would say it for him), but she had been greatly missed.
After the Gang and the destruction of the Clocktower, Barbara had packed up what little she had left in the world, and using a state-of-the-art jet, she and the Birds of Prey had left Gotham so as to become a mobile team. This had been the first time Barbara had been back in Gotham since.
“He’s surviving,” Bruce answered, turning back to look at the children. Ives wasn’t getting anywhere with his best friend, and in the end could only given Tim a slight hug. Ariana Dzerchenko, Tim’s ex then wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. Reluctantly his friends began to leave with the rest of the crowds. “He’s doing far better than anyone could expect considering...”
“Poor Tim,” Barbara, said softly. “I just can’t believe all the hell he’s gone through this past year. Troia and Omen, and then Stephanie… Not to mention everything else. His relationship with Rachel, those attacks against the Titans... God.”
Barbara pushed back a strand of her fiery red hair and watched while Leslie Thompkins walked over to Tim’s side, with first-aid kit in hand and began to tend to the cuts he got from the rose. Dick Grayson joined the teenager and doctor with a look of great concern about him.
The All-Knowing Oracle could feel her heart breaking at the sight of Dick. Neither of them had spoken since she arrived back in Gotham. Neither felt ready, especially after all that had happened. Breaking her gaze, she turned back to Bruce.
“Has he… you know, put the costume on?”
Bruce tensed slightly and frowned. “No. Not since it happened. He says he doesn’t feel ready yet.” There was a beat of silence. “I can’t say I disagree.”
The two lapsed into a long silence, and watched as Leslie wrapped Tim’s hand in a bandage. Tim nodded in thanks and accepted a hug from the doctor, but both Barbara and Bruce could see from his body language that it was a forced and empty gesture. Leslie pulled back form the embrace and cupped Tim’s face in her hand. She whispered some thing to the boy, and moved back to where Alfred waited with the limo and Mrs. Drake.
Tim was left standing before the open grave of his father. He could feel the eyes of Bruce, Barbara, Dick, and possibly Cassandra and Rachel on him, but they were kind enough to keep their distance.
To say that he was feeling numb wouldn’t have described his current condition. He would later describe himself as simply 'going through the motions'. He knew it was only a matter of time before the sadness; anger, loss and fury hit him. He still found it hard to believe that his father was really gone.
All his life, Tim had wished to have some sort of relationship with his parents. But they had never found the time for him. His father and mother had always felt that their business was more important. When Tim had become Robin, he had found something to fill the void they left. He had felt himself to be a part of something bigger.
But then after his mother had been murdered, Jack had wanted to form a relationship with Tim. But now it was Tim who pulled away. His duties as Robin were often too important, and he was forced to lie and hide the truth form his father for three years. It soon became too much for Jack and he searched Tim’s room until he found the costume and the truth.
They had a rough patch for a while. Tim had been forced to retire as Robin, but after the gang war, Jack gave his blessing and let Tim retake his role at Batman’s side. Tim and his father had connected in a way they hadn’t since that day at the circus 13 years past.
And all that was taken away from him once again.
Tim opened his mouth, as if to say something but found nothing forthcoming.
Falcon - November 23, 2004 02:23 PM (GMT)
Rachael watched her ex-boyfriend tim with weary eyes, taking one step towards him before stopping and retreating back to her spot.
She wanted more than nothing to comfort him over his loss, to help him, do something to feel useful.....
But it wasn't her right. As much as she wanted to be there for him now she wasn't sure if she could nor how. It wasn't her place to anymore. She had given up that right a long while ago when they broke up.....
She felt hammered down with guilt. That maybe she could have spared him some of the pain f she had been there, if they were still together; but she realized she couldn't have. As much as she wanted to protect her friends and family from things like this.....she couldn't. She couldn't even keep things like this happening to herself; and she had to admit, it scarred her.
Rach felt a small tear run down her cheek, but quickly wiped it away. It was then that she was being watched and turned to see Cassandra looking at her with a mix of curiosity, concern, and empathy. Rach shook her head solmnl with a weak smile, before looking back at the grave holding the farther and the son standing over it. She watched as others went up to Tim to comfort him and as his friends tried to talk to him and his first ex wrapped her arms around him....and she felt even more out of place. Wishing to be back at her apartment and away from this morbid place, feeling nothing but helpless...
She wanted more than nothing to comfort him over his loss, to help him, do something to feel useful.....
But it wasn't her right. As much as she wanted to be there for him now she wasn't sure if she could nor how. It wasn't her place to anymore. She had given up that right a long while ago when they broke up.....
She felt hammered down with guilt. That maybe she could have spared him some of the pain f she had been there, if they were still together; but she realized she couldn't have. As much as she wanted to protect her friends and family from things like this.....she couldn't. She couldn't even keep things like this happening to herself; and she had to admit, it scarred her.
Rach felt a small tear run down her cheek, but quickly wiped it away. It was then that she was being watched and turned to see Cassandra looking at her with a mix of curiosity, concern, and empathy. Rach shook her head solmnl with a weak smile, before looking back at the grave holding the farther and the son standing over it. She watched as others went up to Tim to comfort him and as his friends tried to talk to him and his first ex wrapped her arms around him....and she felt even more out of place. Wishing to be back at her apartment and away from this morbid place, feeling nothing but helpless...
Robin - November 24, 2004 06:43 AM (GMT)
“Girls?”
Barbara was wheeling herself over to where Batgirl and Falcon stood, with a tired look in her eyes and a grim Bruce Wayne following in her wake. Barbara hadn’t seen much of Rachel or Cassandra since she left Gotham. They had both lived with her in the Clocktower at one point or another, and she had been both a mother and a sister to them. “Come on. We’re heading back to the Manor.”
The funeral mourners had all reassembled later in the great halls of Wayne Manor where the Wake was being held. Dick Grayson stood patiently by the staircase, and turned up to see Alfred and Leslie walking down, both looking far older than he could ever remember either of them.
“How’s Dana?” he asked.
“She’s resting now,” Alfred replied. “We gave her a sedative so to let her rest.”
“The poor dear,” Leslie whispered. “I don’t think she’s slept since it happened.”
Dick nodded in agreement. Dana had completely broken down when she found out about Jack death, to the point of complete hysteria. When they had returned from the funeral, she had begun crying so hard that Alfred was worried she might hurt herself.
“It just isn’t fair,” Leslie said, covering her mouth with her hand and turning away slightly from Alfred and Dick. She had seen too much death in Bruce’s god-awful war against crime. And after the Gang War… She hated herself for feeling this, but on some level she blamed Bruce for this.
“It never is,” Alfred said, slipping his hand into Leslie’s. Dick smiled a bit at the couple. Alfred and Leslie had been in love since the day that Dick had moved into Wayne Manor. And from his understanding long before that too. If only Alfred would grow a set and pop Leslie the question they could spare themselves so much drama.
‘Like you’re one to talk Grayson,’ he thought to himself as he caught sight of Barbara talking to her father on the far side of the banquet hall.
“Have you seen Master Timothy?” Alfred then asked, pulling Dick from his own thoughts.
“No,” Dick answered. “He sort of pulled a Bruce after we got back.”
“Speaking of which... Where...” Leslie began.
“The study most likely,” Alfred offered. “You know how he is…” Leslie nodded sadly and squeezed Alfred’s hand tightly and placed her head on Alfred’s shoulder. Normally the two were far too proper for such public acts, but in light of recent events…
Dick took his cue and began walking his way through the crowds of people, towards the study in hopes of finding Bruce or Tim. Both were in desperate need of company whether they agreed to it or not.
Getting around on group of guys whom Dick was knew nothing of, he caught sight of Rachel standing alone. He began to walk over to the little sis of the clan before he overheard some men talking.
“A real pity,” one man said.
“I just can’t believe Jack is dead,” retorted another. “Did you hear about how he died? It was some costumed nutball from Keystone City. Captain wind-chime or something like that.”
“What I don’t get is why Bruce Wayne is flipping the bill,” said the first one. “Doesn’t he have some super-model airhead to be screwing?”
“Jack’s kid used to stay here after Janet Drake died and when Jack was crippled,” replied a third man. “Heard that Wayne’s got this thing about taking in kids. I heard his first kid was some circus urchin and the second one was street punk or something. Makes you wonder if the rumors about Wayne is true?”
Dick froze in mid-step, listening to these morons. He had heard these sorts of things before. Stupid jerks that gossiped about things like old hens and they always had the most perverted ideas. Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath doing his best not to snap at them. But before he could take another step…
“Never liked that Drake boy, if you ask me. Did you see the way that kid acted at the funeral? Like it was one big chore. Cleaning up after daddy’s mess or some B.S. That Tim Drake was nothing but a big disappointment and pain in the ass for Jack.”
One of the other men nodded. “No kidding. You remember when he got stuck in Gotham during No Man’s Land? I tell you, I’ve never seen Jack so frantic in all my life. In my opinion he should have just left the brat there. Would have saved him a mess load of pain and money.”
Dick Grayson was well known for his even temper and good spirited personality. But at this point in time, all he knew was rage. In speed and strength that surprised everyone in the room he grabbed the first of the three men by the collar of his shirt and the look in his eye was beyond scary.
“Get the hell out of my house,” he growled in the voice of Nightwing. “You assholes have NO right to insult Tim Drake or anyone else in his family, do you hear me you son of a b*tch? He just lost his father, and you DARE talk about him like that? Calling him a disappointment?
"You don’t know a goddman thing about Tim or his father! And I swear to god that you’re luck I don’t break every @#$%ing bone in you @#$%ing body.” Dick tossed the quivering man back at his friends.
“Now I repeat: Get the hell out of my house before I change my mind.”
The three frightened men scurried out the room like the rats that they were, before Dick took a deep breath. People were staring at him, but he didn’t give a damn. No one talked about his little Brother like that when he was around.
No one.
The animal residents of the Batcave screeched out in angry protest as a loud booming music echoed off the walls, once Robin had changed CDs. The dance mix wasn't hard enough and finally with Rob Zombie in the background, Robin started back up. While everyone else was upstairs at the Wake, he had already been down in the cave assaulting the Batcave’s gym pushing his body to the limit.
Leaping into the air Robin kicked out at the already battered punching bag. His kick broke through the bag but he still paid no mind and simply turned his attention to the next punching bag.
His brows were furrowed in intense concentration, but there was no sense of emotion there.
None whatsoever.
There was a creepy sort of look in the teen’s blue eyes, as he attacked the fresh punching bag. He wasn’t in costume and his hands were raw and bloody from the constant pounding of his flesh against the leather of the bags. And yet he still paid it no mind. Almost as if he didn’t even notice the pain of his flesh being abused above and beyond.
Barbara was wheeling herself over to where Batgirl and Falcon stood, with a tired look in her eyes and a grim Bruce Wayne following in her wake. Barbara hadn’t seen much of Rachel or Cassandra since she left Gotham. They had both lived with her in the Clocktower at one point or another, and she had been both a mother and a sister to them. “Come on. We’re heading back to the Manor.”
The funeral mourners had all reassembled later in the great halls of Wayne Manor where the Wake was being held. Dick Grayson stood patiently by the staircase, and turned up to see Alfred and Leslie walking down, both looking far older than he could ever remember either of them.
“How’s Dana?” he asked.
“She’s resting now,” Alfred replied. “We gave her a sedative so to let her rest.”
“The poor dear,” Leslie whispered. “I don’t think she’s slept since it happened.”
Dick nodded in agreement. Dana had completely broken down when she found out about Jack death, to the point of complete hysteria. When they had returned from the funeral, she had begun crying so hard that Alfred was worried she might hurt herself.
“It just isn’t fair,” Leslie said, covering her mouth with her hand and turning away slightly from Alfred and Dick. She had seen too much death in Bruce’s god-awful war against crime. And after the Gang War… She hated herself for feeling this, but on some level she blamed Bruce for this.
“It never is,” Alfred said, slipping his hand into Leslie’s. Dick smiled a bit at the couple. Alfred and Leslie had been in love since the day that Dick had moved into Wayne Manor. And from his understanding long before that too. If only Alfred would grow a set and pop Leslie the question they could spare themselves so much drama.
‘Like you’re one to talk Grayson,’ he thought to himself as he caught sight of Barbara talking to her father on the far side of the banquet hall.
“Have you seen Master Timothy?” Alfred then asked, pulling Dick from his own thoughts.
“No,” Dick answered. “He sort of pulled a Bruce after we got back.”
“Speaking of which... Where...” Leslie began.
“The study most likely,” Alfred offered. “You know how he is…” Leslie nodded sadly and squeezed Alfred’s hand tightly and placed her head on Alfred’s shoulder. Normally the two were far too proper for such public acts, but in light of recent events…
Dick took his cue and began walking his way through the crowds of people, towards the study in hopes of finding Bruce or Tim. Both were in desperate need of company whether they agreed to it or not.
Getting around on group of guys whom Dick was knew nothing of, he caught sight of Rachel standing alone. He began to walk over to the little sis of the clan before he overheard some men talking.
“A real pity,” one man said.
“I just can’t believe Jack is dead,” retorted another. “Did you hear about how he died? It was some costumed nutball from Keystone City. Captain wind-chime or something like that.”
“What I don’t get is why Bruce Wayne is flipping the bill,” said the first one. “Doesn’t he have some super-model airhead to be screwing?”
“Jack’s kid used to stay here after Janet Drake died and when Jack was crippled,” replied a third man. “Heard that Wayne’s got this thing about taking in kids. I heard his first kid was some circus urchin and the second one was street punk or something. Makes you wonder if the rumors about Wayne is true?”
Dick froze in mid-step, listening to these morons. He had heard these sorts of things before. Stupid jerks that gossiped about things like old hens and they always had the most perverted ideas. Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath doing his best not to snap at them. But before he could take another step…
“Never liked that Drake boy, if you ask me. Did you see the way that kid acted at the funeral? Like it was one big chore. Cleaning up after daddy’s mess or some B.S. That Tim Drake was nothing but a big disappointment and pain in the ass for Jack.”
One of the other men nodded. “No kidding. You remember when he got stuck in Gotham during No Man’s Land? I tell you, I’ve never seen Jack so frantic in all my life. In my opinion he should have just left the brat there. Would have saved him a mess load of pain and money.”
Dick Grayson was well known for his even temper and good spirited personality. But at this point in time, all he knew was rage. In speed and strength that surprised everyone in the room he grabbed the first of the three men by the collar of his shirt and the look in his eye was beyond scary.
“Get the hell out of my house,” he growled in the voice of Nightwing. “You assholes have NO right to insult Tim Drake or anyone else in his family, do you hear me you son of a b*tch? He just lost his father, and you DARE talk about him like that? Calling him a disappointment?
"You don’t know a goddman thing about Tim or his father! And I swear to god that you’re luck I don’t break every @#$%ing bone in you @#$%ing body.” Dick tossed the quivering man back at his friends.
“Now I repeat: Get the hell out of my house before I change my mind.”
The three frightened men scurried out the room like the rats that they were, before Dick took a deep breath. People were staring at him, but he didn’t give a damn. No one talked about his little Brother like that when he was around.
No one.
The animal residents of the Batcave screeched out in angry protest as a loud booming music echoed off the walls, once Robin had changed CDs. The dance mix wasn't hard enough and finally with Rob Zombie in the background, Robin started back up. While everyone else was upstairs at the Wake, he had already been down in the cave assaulting the Batcave’s gym pushing his body to the limit.
Leaping into the air Robin kicked out at the already battered punching bag. His kick broke through the bag but he still paid no mind and simply turned his attention to the next punching bag.
His brows were furrowed in intense concentration, but there was no sense of emotion there.
None whatsoever.
There was a creepy sort of look in the teen’s blue eyes, as he attacked the fresh punching bag. He wasn’t in costume and his hands were raw and bloody from the constant pounding of his flesh against the leather of the bags. And yet he still paid it no mind. Almost as if he didn’t even notice the pain of his flesh being abused above and beyond.
Falcon - November 27, 2004 03:17 AM (GMT)
"Serves them right." Rachael said, crossing her arms as she walked over towards where Dick was. His outburstsd had definitely caused some attention. "If you hadn't told them off, I probably would have.............Hows Tim and Mrs. Drake doing?" Rachael asked abruptly. She had to know before she just exploded.
(does tim still have a little brother like you wrote out in the rpg along time ago?)
(does tim still have a little brother like you wrote out in the rpg along time ago?)
Robin - November 27, 2004 04:04 AM (GMT)
(No, I'm afraid not. I was never given the chance to delve further into the sub-plot, and thus Dana never even gave birth. So in order to explain that, I decided to just say that she miscarried.)
Dick glared at the people staring at him, and they began to go bak to their own conversations. His nerves were long since frayed after everything that had been happening over the past few months.
Dick ruffled his own black hair, making it more messy than it normal as he looked down at Rachel with a weak smile. "Alfred and Leslie gave Dana a sleeping daught a little while ago. She's sleeping up in one of the guest rooms. I don't really think she's been taking Jack's passing very well."
Dana Winters-Drake had always been a tough woman. Dick had met her shortly after she started helping Jack with his phsyical theraphy a couple years back. But after the problems she and Jack had after he went broke, along with his having the miscarriage, the death of her husband struck her harder than anyone had expected.
"As for Tim, I... I don't know," Dick said. "He sort of disappeared when we got back from the funeral. I was just about to check 'downstairs' for him."
Robin's swung a reverse hook kick to the punching bag, feeling the leather strain under the blow. He breathing was coming out in ragged breaths, and the sweat had plastered his hair down on his forehead. He took a moment to wipe the hair away with the back of his hand not noticing a bit of blood from his knuckles streak aground his forhead. Taking another deep breath continued his attacks as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
Dick glared at the people staring at him, and they began to go bak to their own conversations. His nerves were long since frayed after everything that had been happening over the past few months.
Dick ruffled his own black hair, making it more messy than it normal as he looked down at Rachel with a weak smile. "Alfred and Leslie gave Dana a sleeping daught a little while ago. She's sleeping up in one of the guest rooms. I don't really think she's been taking Jack's passing very well."
Dana Winters-Drake had always been a tough woman. Dick had met her shortly after she started helping Jack with his phsyical theraphy a couple years back. But after the problems she and Jack had after he went broke, along with his having the miscarriage, the death of her husband struck her harder than anyone had expected.
"As for Tim, I... I don't know," Dick said. "He sort of disappeared when we got back from the funeral. I was just about to check 'downstairs' for him."
Robin's swung a reverse hook kick to the punching bag, feeling the leather strain under the blow. He breathing was coming out in ragged breaths, and the sweat had plastered his hair down on his forehead. He took a moment to wipe the hair away with the back of his hand not noticing a bit of blood from his knuckles streak aground his forhead. Taking another deep breath continued his attacks as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
Falcon - December 2, 2004 09:56 PM (GMT)
Dick ruffled his own black hair, making it more messy than it normal as he looked down at Rachel with a weak smile. "Alfred and Leslie gave Dana a sleeping daught a little while ago. She's sleeping up in one of the guest rooms. I don't really think she's been taking Jack's passing very well."
Dana Winters-Drake had always been a tough woman. Dick had met her shortly after she started helping Jack with his phsyical theraphy a couple years back. But after the problems she and Jack had after he went broke, along with his having the miscarriage, the death of her husband struck her harder than anyone had expected.
"As for Tim, I... I don't know," Dick said. "He sort of disappeared when we got back from the funeral. I was just about to check 'downstairs' for him."
Rachael gave a small sigh and shook her head. "God, I wish there was someway I could be there for him." She looked up at Dick with sad eyes, as was everyones at this affair. "Dick? Could I ask you something? For someone who's been through several relationships before, whats the proper ettiquette for someone when it comes to helping out their ex? I know that Tims more than my ex boyfriend, he's also family in a way, but..." She peered down a second. For a while in the few months she had been back or during her trip even, she was...to 'scared' to.
Dana Winters-Drake had always been a tough woman. Dick had met her shortly after she started helping Jack with his phsyical theraphy a couple years back. But after the problems she and Jack had after he went broke, along with his having the miscarriage, the death of her husband struck her harder than anyone had expected.
"As for Tim, I... I don't know," Dick said. "He sort of disappeared when we got back from the funeral. I was just about to check 'downstairs' for him."
Rachael gave a small sigh and shook her head. "God, I wish there was someway I could be there for him." She looked up at Dick with sad eyes, as was everyones at this affair. "Dick? Could I ask you something? For someone who's been through several relationships before, whats the proper ettiquette for someone when it comes to helping out their ex? I know that Tims more than my ex boyfriend, he's also family in a way, but..." She peered down a second. For a while in the few months she had been back or during her trip even, she was...to 'scared' to.
Robin - December 3, 2004 12:04 AM (GMT)
Dick smiled kindly at Rachel. "You're asking me about relationship ettiquette?" Dick let a a hollow laugh, and looked over the party guests. "It honestly depends on the person, Rach. When Kory and me broke up, we had a lot of awkwardness, but whenever we needed help, we were always there for one another."
His voice trailed off as he recalled the his journey to the cemetary prior to the start of the Identity Crisis. Starfire, who had once been the love of his life had shown up so as to help him through yet another painful year without is parents. He knew that Starfire and he would never be what they once were, but he had never been more greatfuly than to have her at his side on anniversary that he became an orphan.
"Tim's lost the last of his natural family. His mother's been dead for years and now after finally telling his dead the truth about everything, he's lost him too."
He knew that Rachel wanted to see him, all she needed to do was get beyond the awkwardness of their past. "Rachel, I can't tell you want to do. But all I know is that Tim is going to need us all to help him through this."
His voice trailed off as he recalled the his journey to the cemetary prior to the start of the Identity Crisis. Starfire, who had once been the love of his life had shown up so as to help him through yet another painful year without is parents. He knew that Starfire and he would never be what they once were, but he had never been more greatfuly than to have her at his side on anniversary that he became an orphan.
"Tim's lost the last of his natural family. His mother's been dead for years and now after finally telling his dead the truth about everything, he's lost him too."
He knew that Rachel wanted to see him, all she needed to do was get beyond the awkwardness of their past. "Rachel, I can't tell you want to do. But all I know is that Tim is going to need us all to help him through this."
NutiketAiel - December 3, 2004 12:20 AM (GMT)
((Hey, everybody. Alan allowed me to interject this little scene into his storyline. It isn't directly involved, since Robin does not appear, but it is about another character's reaction to the death of Jack Drake. I hope you enjoy.))
Invisible Kid looked around him, his eyes red, refusing to focus, as he took in his surroundings. He was leaning up against a wall that was covered in grime... yes, for all that, the wall looked cleaner than he did. An alley, a back alley in a major city. Right near a refuse dump by the smell of things. He was not in his uniform, instead wearing clothes that would have fit right in with a lower middle class urban resident of this era, albeit one who had been rolling around in a trash recepticle. His chin was covered in stuble, as if he had not shaven for a week. He had no omnicom, no utility belt- the only piece of technology he had left himself was his flight ring, and even that was covered in filth like the rest of him, the symbol of the Legion of Super-Heroes stained with muck.
Where was he? The wind blew a newspaper pact his feet, and he saw the name, the "Philadelphia Inquirer." Philadelphia? All the way on the east coast? That was a long wat from Hawaii...
Why did he have such a splitting headache? The answer to that question was quickly discovered as Lyle realized that his left hand was tightly gripping a bottle of cheap vodka. As he glanced around through his squinty eyes, Lyle found several bottles of liquor lying all about him. He looked up, and realized that the very alley he was in was behind a bar, and that there were several others in view outside the alley.
What was he doing here? The answer to that question was not so easily forthcoming... untill he saw the headline of the newspaper that had fluttered past his feet. It was several days old, torn and quite dirty, but the headline was still legible... "Jean Loring Attacked, Second in String of Super-Hero Spouses"
Oh, grife... Oh, sweet grife...
Lyle barely had time to turn his head as he vomited noisely onto the ground, just missing himself. That was why he was here. That was why he had fled the Secret Volcano Lair, fled Young Justice, fled every hero he knew...
Especially Robin...
~~~
He had been on monitor duty when it began. When the first call had come in, the Sue Dibny had been attacked. As soon as he saw it, his heart sank. Not just for the loss of life, tragic as that was.
But because he knew what was coming, knew what was next. He KNEW.
All to often, his knowledge of this era was patchy at best. Much had been lost to history, to the countless wars and natural disasters. But some, the really important events... records of them had lasted.
He knew who had killed Sue Dibny.
He knew the fate of Jean Loring and Ray Palmer.
And... he knew what was going to happen to Jack Drake.
It was over two hours before he was relieved on monitor duty. As he was leaving, his expression grim, which was not unremarkable under the circumstances... a woman was dead, after all... he left a sealed letter with his relief, asking that it be given to Falcon later.
The letter had said, quite simply, "I am taking a brief leave of absence for an indefinite period. Do not attempt to locate me. Do not attempt to contact me. For ANY reason. I will return shortly. Good luck. -Lyle" There was a wet mark on one corner of the paper, as if Lyle had been holding back tears when it had been written.
After that, he had disabled the locater beacon in his flight ring, obtained some civilian clothes, divested himself of his 31st century technology, locked the door to his lab and disappeared.
~~~
He couldn't remember most of what had happened in the days since Sue Dibny's death. He had started by flying to San Francisco, on the mainland, but everywhere he had looked it had been Sue Dibny this and Sue Dibny that. Finally, he wound up in a bar where they had been showing some sporting event that he didn't understand. Then, even that was interrupted for news coverage of the murder.
So, he found a bottle and climbed into it.
And he hadn't come out.
What he remembered were scattered, fleeting snatches of moments as he flew from city to city after he was thrown out of bar after bar. All he was really conscious of was making damned sure to avoid Central City and Gotham, and to stay out of the way of any super hero he saw. He had to stay underground...
He had to stay away...
If he said anything, if he warned Robin or Jack Drake...
If he acted in any way to save the life of that innocent man...
The timeline could be altered in ways too vast to imagine. This series of events, this crisis, was a major event in history. As much as he wanted to, as terrible as he felt for Tim... who Lyle thought of a friend, even if the teen wonder had seemed cold to him during his entire time in the past... Lyle couldn't.
If he did, the results could be catastrophic, and well beyond his ability to predict.
The Legion itself might have ceased to exist.
Every fiber of Lyle's being, everything that he was, cried out for him to save this man. He was a hero, wasn't he? A Legionnaire? He had to save this innocent man's life.
A hundred times, Lyle started to fly torwards Gotham.
And a hundred times, he had stopped himself, and climbed back into his bottle. At least he could drink more than any of these weak stomached 21st centurians. Silverale was much stronger than anything they brewed...
~~~
And so, in his alley in northeast Philadelphia, Lyle finished vomitting up what little was in his stomach. He partly did so because of the vast quantities of alcohol in his system... after all, he had been drinking in herculean quantities... but, mostly, he did so because it turned his stomach whenever he thought of what he had done. And why had he done it? For the sake of the timeline? Some abstract concept? A man had died to protect the integrity of the timeline.
Lyle took a swig from his bottle, swishing the vodka around his mouth to clear it of the horrible taste of his own vomit. He spit upon the ground, then downed what little was left in the bottle. Out of booze. With great effort, the young man pulled himself to his feet and staggered into the nearest bar.
The bartender looked up as he staggered in. "Oh. You again," he muttered. "Look, kid, haven't you had enough?"
"I've had enough when I said I haved enough," growled Lyle, slurring his words badly. "My creds is still green, isn't they?" The flight ring was doing an excellent job of translating his barely intelligible interlac into barely intelligible english. "Gimme some silverale."
"We ain't got no... whatever that is. Just like the last three times you asked."
"Them gimme sommore voka."
"Vodka. Right."
Lyle slapped his money down on the bar, and the bartender brought him another bottle of extremely cheap vodka, and a rather dirty glass.
"Keep the glass," mumbled the disgusting Legionnaire, pushing it away as he slumped into a barstool and got started on the latest bottle of liquor. He didn't even really taste them anymore. It was just something to keep his mind from focusing. Somewhere in the background, a TV in the bar was playing the news.
He had allowed a man to die to protect the timestream. A man had died... an innocent man... a good man... the father of his friend, his colleague, his fellow Super-hero...
had died... or was going to die... Lyle wasn't even sure what day it was anymore...
and he was letting it happen.
In the self-honesty allowed through the haze of drunkeness, Lyle could look at it pretty clearly.
A Legionnaire had allowed an innocent civilian to die to protect the timestream.
Did he know that the timestream would be damaged from saving this man?
Well, he didn't know for certain... there were no certainties about things like that. So often, temporal mechanics was not an exact science.
A man had died to protect the timestream. For some abstract, ephemeral thing, jack Drake was going to die, and Tim Drake was going to be put through horrible pain, pain nobody should have to live through.
Somewhere, the Time Trapper was probably laughing his head off.
...
What had made Lyle think of THAT?
Lyle took another swig of the liquor, adding to his drunken stupor. Two choices were before him-
He could let this happen, preserve the timestream, and allow this innocent man to die... oh, poor Tim...
Or, he could stand up, be a Legionnaire, and do something about it.
And, in that moment, that moment of extreme drunkenness, that moment of self-pity, that moment of hiddeous clarity that was really anything but, Invisible Kid's resolve faltered, and he rose to his feet, deciding to do something about it. Timeline be damned.
"...and in other news, Jack Drake, victim of the late Captain Boomerang, was laid to rest in a private family ceremony in Gotham City this morning. Drake was killed when the aged Supervillain Captain Boomerang broke into his home and..."
The bottle crashed to the floor as Lyle stopped hearing the rest of the report.
"Too late... I'm too late... oh, what have I done..."
"You dropped you're damn drink all over my floor, that's what you've done. I've had enough of you, kid. I'm throwing you out!!"
Numb, drunk, and overcome with grief, Lyle didn't resist as he was thrown out of the bar and onto the curb, where he sat for hours, staring at nothing and muttering to himself unintelligibly.
He barely even noticed when the Philadelphia City Police rolled around and picked him up, dragging him to a lockdown to sober up.
Didn't even notice.
All he did was mumble to himself.
"Too late... all my fault... too late... could have saved him... timestream..."
"I could have saved him..."
"What have I done?"
~~~
The next day, when he was sober, Lyle convinced the police to let him go. He flew across country, the high altitude air doing little to clear his immense hangover, and finally slipped back into the Secret Volcano Lair, unnoticed, settling down in his quarters. He reactivated his flight ring tracking beacon, sent a quick message to whoever was on monitor duty for Young Justice that he was back, stripped out of his clothes and collapsed on his bed, not even having the energy to shower.
In all his days thereafter, he never forgave himself for that one moment of weakness when he almost sacraficed the entire future to save one man.
And he never forgave himself for being too late to do so.
Invisible Kid looked around him, his eyes red, refusing to focus, as he took in his surroundings. He was leaning up against a wall that was covered in grime... yes, for all that, the wall looked cleaner than he did. An alley, a back alley in a major city. Right near a refuse dump by the smell of things. He was not in his uniform, instead wearing clothes that would have fit right in with a lower middle class urban resident of this era, albeit one who had been rolling around in a trash recepticle. His chin was covered in stuble, as if he had not shaven for a week. He had no omnicom, no utility belt- the only piece of technology he had left himself was his flight ring, and even that was covered in filth like the rest of him, the symbol of the Legion of Super-Heroes stained with muck.
Where was he? The wind blew a newspaper pact his feet, and he saw the name, the "Philadelphia Inquirer." Philadelphia? All the way on the east coast? That was a long wat from Hawaii...
Why did he have such a splitting headache? The answer to that question was quickly discovered as Lyle realized that his left hand was tightly gripping a bottle of cheap vodka. As he glanced around through his squinty eyes, Lyle found several bottles of liquor lying all about him. He looked up, and realized that the very alley he was in was behind a bar, and that there were several others in view outside the alley.
What was he doing here? The answer to that question was not so easily forthcoming... untill he saw the headline of the newspaper that had fluttered past his feet. It was several days old, torn and quite dirty, but the headline was still legible... "Jean Loring Attacked, Second in String of Super-Hero Spouses"
Oh, grife... Oh, sweet grife...
Lyle barely had time to turn his head as he vomited noisely onto the ground, just missing himself. That was why he was here. That was why he had fled the Secret Volcano Lair, fled Young Justice, fled every hero he knew...
Especially Robin...
~~~
He had been on monitor duty when it began. When the first call had come in, the Sue Dibny had been attacked. As soon as he saw it, his heart sank. Not just for the loss of life, tragic as that was.
But because he knew what was coming, knew what was next. He KNEW.
All to often, his knowledge of this era was patchy at best. Much had been lost to history, to the countless wars and natural disasters. But some, the really important events... records of them had lasted.
He knew who had killed Sue Dibny.
He knew the fate of Jean Loring and Ray Palmer.
And... he knew what was going to happen to Jack Drake.
It was over two hours before he was relieved on monitor duty. As he was leaving, his expression grim, which was not unremarkable under the circumstances... a woman was dead, after all... he left a sealed letter with his relief, asking that it be given to Falcon later.
The letter had said, quite simply, "I am taking a brief leave of absence for an indefinite period. Do not attempt to locate me. Do not attempt to contact me. For ANY reason. I will return shortly. Good luck. -Lyle" There was a wet mark on one corner of the paper, as if Lyle had been holding back tears when it had been written.
After that, he had disabled the locater beacon in his flight ring, obtained some civilian clothes, divested himself of his 31st century technology, locked the door to his lab and disappeared.
~~~
He couldn't remember most of what had happened in the days since Sue Dibny's death. He had started by flying to San Francisco, on the mainland, but everywhere he had looked it had been Sue Dibny this and Sue Dibny that. Finally, he wound up in a bar where they had been showing some sporting event that he didn't understand. Then, even that was interrupted for news coverage of the murder.
So, he found a bottle and climbed into it.
And he hadn't come out.
What he remembered were scattered, fleeting snatches of moments as he flew from city to city after he was thrown out of bar after bar. All he was really conscious of was making damned sure to avoid Central City and Gotham, and to stay out of the way of any super hero he saw. He had to stay underground...
He had to stay away...
If he said anything, if he warned Robin or Jack Drake...
If he acted in any way to save the life of that innocent man...
The timeline could be altered in ways too vast to imagine. This series of events, this crisis, was a major event in history. As much as he wanted to, as terrible as he felt for Tim... who Lyle thought of a friend, even if the teen wonder had seemed cold to him during his entire time in the past... Lyle couldn't.
If he did, the results could be catastrophic, and well beyond his ability to predict.
The Legion itself might have ceased to exist.
Every fiber of Lyle's being, everything that he was, cried out for him to save this man. He was a hero, wasn't he? A Legionnaire? He had to save this innocent man's life.
A hundred times, Lyle started to fly torwards Gotham.
And a hundred times, he had stopped himself, and climbed back into his bottle. At least he could drink more than any of these weak stomached 21st centurians. Silverale was much stronger than anything they brewed...
~~~
And so, in his alley in northeast Philadelphia, Lyle finished vomitting up what little was in his stomach. He partly did so because of the vast quantities of alcohol in his system... after all, he had been drinking in herculean quantities... but, mostly, he did so because it turned his stomach whenever he thought of what he had done. And why had he done it? For the sake of the timeline? Some abstract concept? A man had died to protect the integrity of the timeline.
Lyle took a swig from his bottle, swishing the vodka around his mouth to clear it of the horrible taste of his own vomit. He spit upon the ground, then downed what little was left in the bottle. Out of booze. With great effort, the young man pulled himself to his feet and staggered into the nearest bar.
The bartender looked up as he staggered in. "Oh. You again," he muttered. "Look, kid, haven't you had enough?"
"I've had enough when I said I haved enough," growled Lyle, slurring his words badly. "My creds is still green, isn't they?" The flight ring was doing an excellent job of translating his barely intelligible interlac into barely intelligible english. "Gimme some silverale."
"We ain't got no... whatever that is. Just like the last three times you asked."
"Them gimme sommore voka."
"Vodka. Right."
Lyle slapped his money down on the bar, and the bartender brought him another bottle of extremely cheap vodka, and a rather dirty glass.
"Keep the glass," mumbled the disgusting Legionnaire, pushing it away as he slumped into a barstool and got started on the latest bottle of liquor. He didn't even really taste them anymore. It was just something to keep his mind from focusing. Somewhere in the background, a TV in the bar was playing the news.
He had allowed a man to die to protect the timestream. A man had died... an innocent man... a good man... the father of his friend, his colleague, his fellow Super-hero...
had died... or was going to die... Lyle wasn't even sure what day it was anymore...
and he was letting it happen.
In the self-honesty allowed through the haze of drunkeness, Lyle could look at it pretty clearly.
A Legionnaire had allowed an innocent civilian to die to protect the timestream.
Did he know that the timestream would be damaged from saving this man?
Well, he didn't know for certain... there were no certainties about things like that. So often, temporal mechanics was not an exact science.
A man had died to protect the timestream. For some abstract, ephemeral thing, jack Drake was going to die, and Tim Drake was going to be put through horrible pain, pain nobody should have to live through.
Somewhere, the Time Trapper was probably laughing his head off.
...
What had made Lyle think of THAT?
Lyle took another swig of the liquor, adding to his drunken stupor. Two choices were before him-
He could let this happen, preserve the timestream, and allow this innocent man to die... oh, poor Tim...
Or, he could stand up, be a Legionnaire, and do something about it.
And, in that moment, that moment of extreme drunkenness, that moment of self-pity, that moment of hiddeous clarity that was really anything but, Invisible Kid's resolve faltered, and he rose to his feet, deciding to do something about it. Timeline be damned.
"...and in other news, Jack Drake, victim of the late Captain Boomerang, was laid to rest in a private family ceremony in Gotham City this morning. Drake was killed when the aged Supervillain Captain Boomerang broke into his home and..."
The bottle crashed to the floor as Lyle stopped hearing the rest of the report.
"Too late... I'm too late... oh, what have I done..."
"You dropped you're damn drink all over my floor, that's what you've done. I've had enough of you, kid. I'm throwing you out!!"
Numb, drunk, and overcome with grief, Lyle didn't resist as he was thrown out of the bar and onto the curb, where he sat for hours, staring at nothing and muttering to himself unintelligibly.
He barely even noticed when the Philadelphia City Police rolled around and picked him up, dragging him to a lockdown to sober up.
Didn't even notice.
All he did was mumble to himself.
"Too late... all my fault... too late... could have saved him... timestream..."
"I could have saved him..."
"What have I done?"
~~~
The next day, when he was sober, Lyle convinced the police to let him go. He flew across country, the high altitude air doing little to clear his immense hangover, and finally slipped back into the Secret Volcano Lair, unnoticed, settling down in his quarters. He reactivated his flight ring tracking beacon, sent a quick message to whoever was on monitor duty for Young Justice that he was back, stripped out of his clothes and collapsed on his bed, not even having the energy to shower.
In all his days thereafter, he never forgave himself for that one moment of weakness when he almost sacraficed the entire future to save one man.
And he never forgave himself for being too late to do so.
Falcon - December 5, 2004 10:17 PM (GMT)
He knew that Rachel wanted to see him, all she needed to do was get beyond the awkwardness of their past. "Rachel, I can't tell you want to do. But all I know is that Tim is going to need us all to help him through this."
"I know.....I know." Rachael said, a bt of a teenage tone creeping into it. She rubbed the bridge of her nose in thought and looked up at Dick with a face of resolution. "tthanks Dick, I....How about I go look downstairs for him instead?" she said with a weak smile. "chances are ten to one that hes down there."
And with that, she headed to the clock, making sure noone saw her, and headed down to the cave.
Her andf Tim maynot be what they usedto be, but he was still part of the family dammit, and so was she.
And families were there for each other.
Robin - December 5, 2004 11:36 PM (GMT)
Dick smiled encouregingly at Rachel. The kid had come a long way since she landed in their universe. But there were still points of time, where her natural teenaged behavior kicked in.
"Alright," he agreed. "If you need anything let me or the others know. And take it easy on him, okay?"
Watching Rachel depart, Dick hoped that talking to some who was as close to Tim as she had been could maybe help shake him out of Tim's current depression. If that was what it could be called. To be frank, Tim hadn't shown any sign of emotion since it happened.
After Tim had found Jack dead, Batman had said that Tim had a complete emotional breakdown, crying and shouting. But afterwards... nothing. Bruce had taken Tim to Leslie's clinic, in hopes that she could help, but according to Leslie Tim had said nothing. He had just seated himself in a corner of her office and stared out into space.
Since then it had been pretty much the same. Tim spoke when spoken too, but beyond that he remained withdrawn and cold. Dick had tried to talk to him time and again, but he just wouldn't respond. All Dick ever got was a lifeless gaze, that frankly scared the former Boy Wonder horribly. It was the same gaze that Bruce had when Jason had died.
Bruce had almost destroyed himself when they lost Jay. He prayed to god the same wouldn't be the same for Tim.
Dick had heard from Kory and Vic that the other Titans were very worried about Tim, considering he hadn't gone to a TT weekend in over two weeks. He hadn't replied to phone-calls, com-links nor e-mails.
"Dick?"
Dick jumped slightly and spun around to find Bruce standing there, in no way wearing the mask of a rich playboy. He could only remember ever seeing Bruce like this back when the Flying Graysons had been murdered and Bruce had taken Dick in. He had looked so defeated when that happened, with shoulder that were sagging under some unseen weight and his head lowered ever so slightly. And although he never said anything, there was always a look of self-loathing in Bruce's grim blue eyes.
Dick knew that Bruce was blaming himself and he knew nothing he coudl say would change that. He tried anyways. "Its not your fault Bruce."
"Rachel's going down to talk to him?" Bruce asked, ignoring his adoptive son's statement.
Dick narrowed his eyes at Bruce but nodded.
"Good."
Tim was now stuck in a rapid punching attack, no longer using anything but straight out blows with his fist. He was lost in deep thought, and it seemed that he was completely unware of what ever else took place around him.
The punching bag itself was completey on the verge of joining its former counterpart. The leather was straining to hold itself together, and the stitching at the bottom was giving way causing small streams of sand to drop onto the stone floor.
Tim's mind was filled with many thoughts. His father of course. But along with the face of Jack Drake were others. His mother Janet, his classmate Philmount, his ex girlfriend Stephanie Brown. Slobo, Young Eel, Detective Sarah Essen-Gordon, and many many more. Face of people who's name he never knew. Just random people who's bodies he had held in his arms while dressed as Robin.
And yet with all those who had died, he found himself unable to shed a single tear. He could not find the rage or sadness that should come with loss. He could not feel anything.
What kind of person did that make him?
With a final blow, the punching exploded from the bottom and all the sand fell, leaving Tim with his fist held out breathing deeply.
"Alright," he agreed. "If you need anything let me or the others know. And take it easy on him, okay?"
Watching Rachel depart, Dick hoped that talking to some who was as close to Tim as she had been could maybe help shake him out of Tim's current depression. If that was what it could be called. To be frank, Tim hadn't shown any sign of emotion since it happened.
After Tim had found Jack dead, Batman had said that Tim had a complete emotional breakdown, crying and shouting. But afterwards... nothing. Bruce had taken Tim to Leslie's clinic, in hopes that she could help, but according to Leslie Tim had said nothing. He had just seated himself in a corner of her office and stared out into space.
Since then it had been pretty much the same. Tim spoke when spoken too, but beyond that he remained withdrawn and cold. Dick had tried to talk to him time and again, but he just wouldn't respond. All Dick ever got was a lifeless gaze, that frankly scared the former Boy Wonder horribly. It was the same gaze that Bruce had when Jason had died.
Bruce had almost destroyed himself when they lost Jay. He prayed to god the same wouldn't be the same for Tim.
Dick had heard from Kory and Vic that the other Titans were very worried about Tim, considering he hadn't gone to a TT weekend in over two weeks. He hadn't replied to phone-calls, com-links nor e-mails.
"Dick?"
Dick jumped slightly and spun around to find Bruce standing there, in no way wearing the mask of a rich playboy. He could only remember ever seeing Bruce like this back when the Flying Graysons had been murdered and Bruce had taken Dick in. He had looked so defeated when that happened, with shoulder that were sagging under some unseen weight and his head lowered ever so slightly. And although he never said anything, there was always a look of self-loathing in Bruce's grim blue eyes.
Dick knew that Bruce was blaming himself and he knew nothing he coudl say would change that. He tried anyways. "Its not your fault Bruce."
"Rachel's going down to talk to him?" Bruce asked, ignoring his adoptive son's statement.
Dick narrowed his eyes at Bruce but nodded.
"Good."
Tim was now stuck in a rapid punching attack, no longer using anything but straight out blows with his fist. He was lost in deep thought, and it seemed that he was completely unware of what ever else took place around him.
The punching bag itself was completey on the verge of joining its former counterpart. The leather was straining to hold itself together, and the stitching at the bottom was giving way causing small streams of sand to drop onto the stone floor.
Tim's mind was filled with many thoughts. His father of course. But along with the face of Jack Drake were others. His mother Janet, his classmate Philmount, his ex girlfriend Stephanie Brown. Slobo, Young Eel, Detective Sarah Essen-Gordon, and many many more. Face of people who's name he never knew. Just random people who's bodies he had held in his arms while dressed as Robin.
And yet with all those who had died, he found himself unable to shed a single tear. He could not find the rage or sadness that should come with loss. He could not feel anything.
What kind of person did that make him?
With a final blow, the punching exploded from the bottom and all the sand fell, leaving Tim with his fist held out breathing deeply.
Falcon - December 6, 2004 01:02 AM (GMT)
Rachael jumped slightly as she heard the sound of the punching bag explode, a rare thing for someone in the batclan, and , after walking/half running downstairs in the shadows at the sound of booming music and a constand hamering noise, she stood silently and listlessly watching as the sand that was left in what was left of the bag poured to the floor at Tims feet.
Her eyes went up and brought themselves to his blood drenched fists to his cold and emotionless eyes. 'Oh god, this isn't good'.
Swallowing her pride and her feads, she stepped out into the streaming light coming from over head and spoke. "Tim? I just wanted to know if you might want to talk. Are you o-" She shook her head. How COULD he be ok? he lost his dad. "Scratch that question."Her eyes gazed down to his bloodied fists. "Do you want me to help you wrap those up?"
Robin - December 6, 2004 01:54 AM (GMT)
Since neither Bruce nor Dick were feeling entirely comfortable at the Wake, they both opted to take a walk about the grounds of the Manor. The was a defeaning silence between them that was only broken but the soft sounds of their footsteps on the stonepath.
At long last the silence grew too much for Dick. "Did Alfred and Leslie talk to you about Dana?"
Bruce nodded. "Yes. They both are very concernered about her mental state in light of everythign that's happened. We've been considering sending her to a private clinic that specializes in treating the kind of disabling grief. We tried to speak to Tim about it earlier, but..."
"He wasn't really all there?" Dick finished.
"Yes and no," Bruce replied. "I know that he was listening but his behavior... it seemed as if he didn't care."
Dick winced, but he couldn't argue. That had been exactly what he had been fearing as well. Tim's behavior had been exactly that. Like someone who didn't care. As if nothing else seemed to matter.
"What can we do for him?"
Bruce paused in midstep and turned his eyes out over the Gotham skyline out in the distance. "We give him time I suppose. You remember what it was like Dick. He's in shock. He's still having a problem accepting his father is gone. You weren't that different when you came here."
"And neither were you Master Bruce."
Alfred Pennyworth walked down the stone path, still dressed in his crisp and proper butler uniform. His hands were held behind his back, but both vigilantes could see through his body language that Alfred was fiddling with his hands nervously.
"But something about this is different," Dick persisted. "Guys, you know what he's been through over the last year. I'm not sure if he can pull himself out of it this time."
Niether of the older men answered, but they couldn't argue. Tim was always such a strong young man, and he never allowed himself to fall into that dark abyss that claimed so many others. He always fought the pain. And they always saw a light in him that was so filled with optimisim and hope. But all three of them could see it.
He wasn't fighting.
Tim's body tensed and her turned around to see Rachel standing at the foot of the stairs leading down from the Manor. She was looking at him with a shocked sort of expression, and at first Tim wasn't completely certain what she was speaking of until he noticed her eyes shifting down towards his hands.
"What...?" Tim looked down to see the damaged skin and blood falling from his fists. "Oh, I didn't..." His voice was low and distant and trailed off after a moment.
Tim could see the blood and both his hands were stinging from the pain he inflicted upon himself. He was aware of the fact that he should be acting so reckless. It was pretty obvious after all.
So why didn't he seem to care?
He stepped off the mats and away from the two demolished punching bags and sat down on the cold metal benches. Taking a towel and wrapping his left hand in it. The red was already bleed through the white of the cloth.
At long last the silence grew too much for Dick. "Did Alfred and Leslie talk to you about Dana?"
Bruce nodded. "Yes. They both are very concernered about her mental state in light of everythign that's happened. We've been considering sending her to a private clinic that specializes in treating the kind of disabling grief. We tried to speak to Tim about it earlier, but..."
"He wasn't really all there?" Dick finished.
"Yes and no," Bruce replied. "I know that he was listening but his behavior... it seemed as if he didn't care."
Dick winced, but he couldn't argue. That had been exactly what he had been fearing as well. Tim's behavior had been exactly that. Like someone who didn't care. As if nothing else seemed to matter.
"What can we do for him?"
Bruce paused in midstep and turned his eyes out over the Gotham skyline out in the distance. "We give him time I suppose. You remember what it was like Dick. He's in shock. He's still having a problem accepting his father is gone. You weren't that different when you came here."
"And neither were you Master Bruce."
Alfred Pennyworth walked down the stone path, still dressed in his crisp and proper butler uniform. His hands were held behind his back, but both vigilantes could see through his body language that Alfred was fiddling with his hands nervously.
"But something about this is different," Dick persisted. "Guys, you know what he's been through over the last year. I'm not sure if he can pull himself out of it this time."
Niether of the older men answered, but they couldn't argue. Tim was always such a strong young man, and he never allowed himself to fall into that dark abyss that claimed so many others. He always fought the pain. And they always saw a light in him that was so filled with optimisim and hope. But all three of them could see it.
He wasn't fighting.
Tim's body tensed and her turned around to see Rachel standing at the foot of the stairs leading down from the Manor. She was looking at him with a shocked sort of expression, and at first Tim wasn't completely certain what she was speaking of until he noticed her eyes shifting down towards his hands.
"What...?" Tim looked down to see the damaged skin and blood falling from his fists. "Oh, I didn't..." His voice was low and distant and trailed off after a moment.
Tim could see the blood and both his hands were stinging from the pain he inflicted upon himself. He was aware of the fact that he should be acting so reckless. It was pretty obvious after all.
So why didn't he seem to care?
He stepped off the mats and away from the two demolished punching bags and sat down on the cold metal benches. Taking a towel and wrapping his left hand in it. The red was already bleed through the white of the cloth.
Falcon - December 6, 2004 02:08 AM (GMT)
Rachael gave a small, light smile and quikly grabbed a first aid kit from a nearby table. A little timid at first, she walked towards the bench and sat down silently, openinfg the kit and taking out the rubbing alchohol.
She took one of his hands carefully and began to wipe away the blood. "I just thought you might want someone to talk to....or maybe the least someone to really be there without telling you how you should be feeling....this might hurt a bit". And with that, she soaked a clean cloth with the antiseptic and begian to clean the rest of the remaining blood off and sanitize the wounds.
Her eyes never left his hands, never looking up to see whether or not she was trespassing personal space or whether she was welcomed or not.
Seeing him just a second ago, she really didn't care anymore.
She couldn't lie and say she still didn't love tim. But perhaps it was a different KIND of love.
To get to the point......She saw now that she had to be there for him before he fell off the cusp.
She took one of his hands carefully and began to wipe away the blood. "I just thought you might want someone to talk to....or maybe the least someone to really be there without telling you how you should be feeling....this might hurt a bit". And with that, she soaked a clean cloth with the antiseptic and begian to clean the rest of the remaining blood off and sanitize the wounds.
Her eyes never left his hands, never looking up to see whether or not she was trespassing personal space or whether she was welcomed or not.
Seeing him just a second ago, she really didn't care anymore.
She couldn't lie and say she still didn't love tim. But perhaps it was a different KIND of love.
To get to the point......She saw now that she had to be there for him before he fell off the cusp.
Robin - December 6, 2004 02:24 AM (GMT)
"Perhaps we should consider taking Master Timothy to that clinic with his step-mother," Alfred offered.
"Tim would never agree to that," Bruce said quickly. "He's as protective about the secret as any of us. More so in some ways. He would never put himself in a position that would divulge any of the secrets, no matter what the reasons."
Both Alfred and Dick nodded. Bruce was right. Tim was the same kid who kept his identity a secret from the Oracle for two years, and refused to tell his girlfriend and YJ teammates his secret for nearly as long. Hell with the exception of a small handful of heroes, most people didn't even know his real name still.
"I'm fine," Tim replied in a soft and automatic tone, not really paying that much attention to Rachel's obvious invitation to talk. His brows furrowed in a concentrated manner while he stared at his bleeding hands as if trying will himself some kind of reaction that wouldn't come.
He felt the sting of the aniceptic on his hand and the gentle touch of Rachel cleaning the wound. There had been a time where her touch sent a warm feelling to run throughout his body.
But like everything, he felt nothing. Not even the smallest hint of those past feelings.
When Rachel released Tim's hand and turned to the other, he turned his attention to the bandaged hand.
"Thanks," he said in an equally distant tone of voice.
"Tim would never agree to that," Bruce said quickly. "He's as protective about the secret as any of us. More so in some ways. He would never put himself in a position that would divulge any of the secrets, no matter what the reasons."
Both Alfred and Dick nodded. Bruce was right. Tim was the same kid who kept his identity a secret from the Oracle for two years, and refused to tell his girlfriend and YJ teammates his secret for nearly as long. Hell with the exception of a small handful of heroes, most people didn't even know his real name still.
"I'm fine," Tim replied in a soft and automatic tone, not really paying that much attention to Rachel's obvious invitation to talk. His brows furrowed in a concentrated manner while he stared at his bleeding hands as if trying will himself some kind of reaction that wouldn't come.
He felt the sting of the aniceptic on his hand and the gentle touch of Rachel cleaning the wound. There had been a time where her touch sent a warm feelling to run throughout his body.
But like everything, he felt nothing. Not even the smallest hint of those past feelings.
When Rachel released Tim's hand and turned to the other, he turned his attention to the bandaged hand.
"Thanks," he said in an equally distant tone of voice.
Falcon - December 7, 2004 05:17 PM (GMT)
>Alan! I need you to solve a fight! Whos better/cooler: Spike or Willow(buffy question<<
"I'm fine,"
"'Course you are." She said as she finished wrapping the first hand and went on to the second. It wasn't said patroningly though.
When Rachel released Tim's hand and turned to the other, he turned his attention to the bandaged hand.
"Thanks," he said in an equally distant tone of voice.
"don't mention it." rachael said, finishing up wrapping the second hand in the gauze.
She then sat back on the bench facing across from him. It was silent for a long moment before she finialy thought of something to say. "So....how are you really doing." She said, looking into his eyes to seek an answer. Recognizing only a dull, emotionless light.
"I'm fine,"
"'Course you are." She said as she finished wrapping the first hand and went on to the second. It wasn't said patroningly though.
When Rachel released Tim's hand and turned to the other, he turned his attention to the bandaged hand.
"Thanks," he said in an equally distant tone of voice.
"don't mention it." rachael said, finishing up wrapping the second hand in the gauze.
She then sat back on the bench facing across from him. It was silent for a long moment before she finialy thought of something to say. "So....how are you really doing." She said, looking into his eyes to seek an answer. Recognizing only a dull, emotionless light.
Robin - December 8, 2004 06:36 AM (GMT)
>>Well, that's not a hard question. Willow is loads better/cooler than Spike. Don't get me wrong, William the Bloody is cool, but Will is way better. She's smart, powerful, beautiful and she's just such a fun character. Not to mention she had the coolest of storyline at the end of season 6.<<
Bruce, Dick and Alfred all fell into a long silence. Rain drops began to fall, and Alfred opened the umbrella that he had been carrying with him. He offered the cover to both Bruce and Dick, niether of whom took it from him.
Dick let him mind wander back to the first funeral he had ever attented with Tim. When Tim's mother had been murdered by the Obeah Man.
Donna Troy had once said that the Fates were to blame for loses we suffered. Three sisters weaving the Loom of Life, spinning its golden threads into the years and cutting whenver the whim took them.
It was as stupid now as it was then. Even Donna said that.
But in the end, people needed something to help make sense of it all. To find the meaning in the pain, and in the choas. For the Greeks, it was the fates. For Bruce, Dick, and perhaps still for Tim, it was the masks.
"A Titan's weekend is coming up," Dick offered.
"Master Dick, I don't feel that sending Timothy to work with his associates is a wise-" Alfred began.
"Alfred, when I... left... I had gone through some tough things. But I found that I could always turn to my friends in the Teen Titans to help me through them. I know this group of kids aren't like the one I worked with but still..."
Alfred grimaced a bit. Alfred was well aware of those 'tought things' that Dick spoke of. Dick and Bruce's estrangement had been long in coming, but following the introduction of Jason who took over as Robin, that had caused so many problems in their strange little family.
For the longest time Alfred had been afraid that they would never regain the familar bonds that once held them together. Especially after Jason had died. Bruce had pushed everyone away and towards the end, it looked as if that was where it would finish.
But Tim had save them. When he had come to them, Tim helped bridge the gap that had developed between Batman and Nightwing.
It was long since time that they returned the favor.
"Dick might be right," Bruce said. "Tim needs time away from Gotham. Maybe it doesn't need to be with the Titans, but at least give him some time to get this thoughts together after everything that has happened. "
Alfred sighed. He didn't like the idea of send one of his charges away when they were in such crippling pain and loss, but Tim wasn't responding here. "We can only hope it might work."
Tim turned his attention up from his bandaged hands to Falcon as she bluntly asked the question that had most likely been on her mind since the funeral. He could see that she was concerned from him, but all she recieved in reply were those dark emotionless blue eyes.
Despite the bluntness of her query, he showed no signs of gratitude, annoyance, sadness, nor anger.
Like everyone, Rachel wanted to know 'how he was doing.' Ever since it happened, that was just about the only thing people could bring themselves to ask. 'How are you doing?' Tim never realized how hollow a phrase that sounded.
But what seemed more hollow was the fact he couldn't bring himself to properly answer.
"I'll be fine," he finally said.
Bruce, Dick and Alfred all fell into a long silence. Rain drops began to fall, and Alfred opened the umbrella that he had been carrying with him. He offered the cover to both Bruce and Dick, niether of whom took it from him.
Dick let him mind wander back to the first funeral he had ever attented with Tim. When Tim's mother had been murdered by the Obeah Man.
Donna Troy had once said that the Fates were to blame for loses we suffered. Three sisters weaving the Loom of Life, spinning its golden threads into the years and cutting whenver the whim took them.
It was as stupid now as it was then. Even Donna said that.
But in the end, people needed something to help make sense of it all. To find the meaning in the pain, and in the choas. For the Greeks, it was the fates. For Bruce, Dick, and perhaps still for Tim, it was the masks.
"A Titan's weekend is coming up," Dick offered.
"Master Dick, I don't feel that sending Timothy to work with his associates is a wise-" Alfred began.
"Alfred, when I... left... I had gone through some tough things. But I found that I could always turn to my friends in the Teen Titans to help me through them. I know this group of kids aren't like the one I worked with but still..."
Alfred grimaced a bit. Alfred was well aware of those 'tought things' that Dick spoke of. Dick and Bruce's estrangement had been long in coming, but following the introduction of Jason who took over as Robin, that had caused so many problems in their strange little family.
For the longest time Alfred had been afraid that they would never regain the familar bonds that once held them together. Especially after Jason had died. Bruce had pushed everyone away and towards the end, it looked as if that was where it would finish.
But Tim had save them. When he had come to them, Tim helped bridge the gap that had developed between Batman and Nightwing.
It was long since time that they returned the favor.
"Dick might be right," Bruce said. "Tim needs time away from Gotham. Maybe it doesn't need to be with the Titans, but at least give him some time to get this thoughts together after everything that has happened. "
Alfred sighed. He didn't like the idea of send one of his charges away when they were in such crippling pain and loss, but Tim wasn't responding here. "We can only hope it might work."
Tim turned his attention up from his bandaged hands to Falcon as she bluntly asked the question that had most likely been on her mind since the funeral. He could see that she was concerned from him, but all she recieved in reply were those dark emotionless blue eyes.
Despite the bluntness of her query, he showed no signs of gratitude, annoyance, sadness, nor anger.
Like everyone, Rachel wanted to know 'how he was doing.' Ever since it happened, that was just about the only thing people could bring themselves to ask. 'How are you doing?' Tim never realized how hollow a phrase that sounded.
But what seemed more hollow was the fact he couldn't bring himself to properly answer.
"I'll be fine," he finally said.
Falcon - December 8, 2004 05:13 PM (GMT)
"Tim..." Rachael closed her eyes a second as if to regain balance and then opened them back up. "Okay, so your just fine. I get it. ....But TALK to me. Say something. Even if its completely off subject like baseball or...or music, or kung fu movies. Just don't give me one sylable words!" She said a little bit exasperated, but calm. "Otherwise I don't know what else to do here."
Robin - December 9, 2004 06:28 AM (GMT)
Tim's eyes narrowed a bit, but not in a fashion that showed any true emotion. It was like he were studying Falcon, rather than actually looking at her. Tim stood up and took several steps forward before stopping. His body stood ridigid and tensed, but his shoulders were slumped like he were carrying a heavy burden. Much like he had been since the funeral.
"There is nothing for you to do, Rachel," he said in a cool voice. "This is my life, and I'll deal with things in my own way."
"Just..." Tim's voice trailed off and he turned his head back to look at Rachel through the corner of his eyes. "Just leave me be."
With that he began walking up the stone stairs leading up to the manor. "Thank you for the help," he said in what was more or less an after thought.
"There is nothing for you to do, Rachel," he said in a cool voice. "This is my life, and I'll deal with things in my own way."
"Just..." Tim's voice trailed off and he turned his head back to look at Rachel through the corner of his eyes. "Just leave me be."
With that he began walking up the stone stairs leading up to the manor. "Thank you for the help," he said in what was more or less an after thought.
Falcon - December 11, 2004 06:26 PM (GMT)
With that he began walking up the stone stairs leading up to the manor. "Thank you for the help," he said in what was more or less an after thought.
"Yeah sure." Rachael mumbled, casting her eyesdownward and pinching the bridge of her nose. It was like trying to talk to a brick wall.
'"Theres nothing you can do to help". That was a definite blow to her pride. She got up from where she had been ssitting on the bench and stared up the the stairs Tim had just ascended.
She didn't feel like going back up to the wake. It was all just to heavy up there.
She stretched and started towards the car garage and hopped on one of the less conspicuous motorcycles. Lost in thought, Rachael ran a hand through her now quite short hair, pulled on a helmet, and revved up the bike. Goood thing she had decided to wear dress pants instead of a skirt or dress, otherwise the ride would be a little more tricky.
She zoomed out of the batcave , paying half attention to the route to her new apartment. Knowing the gotham streets like the back of her hand, she arrived to a large, expensive apartment complex owned by Waynetech. She hid the bike in a space behind the parking garage and headed up the stairs towards the top floor, of which she owned half of. It wasn't as much of an apartment as you could say it was more like a penthouse. The first three quarters of her half was a spacious living area, and the forth quater was a hidden little compartment holding a make shift gym/crime lab.
As she entered the apartment, she moved a few boxes off of her new overstuffed couch and sat down tiredly, looking around at the mess of things that still needed to be put away.
She hadn't even put away half the stuff that needed to be so far. All of her old studd had been destroyed when the tower had been, so she had to go and reshop for everything, now including new furniture. But all that stuff could be replaced. All of it, except for her pictures and sketchbooks....the wallet size picture of her family from her 'old' demension, pictures of her and friends, pictures of tim, and the titans, and vic....
And through it all;after all the talk of enjoying being single again and having time to herself again that she had told Babs and Dinah after they had tried to fix her up again....She felt....lonely. She had enjoyed it at first, but a strange little void seemed to be growing as more and more of those she cared about seemed a bit farther away. Babs and trhe rest of the BOP were no longer stationed here anymore, she HAD had friend inthe titans, but she no longer belonged to the titans, her and tim had broken up, she and vic didn't even have the chance to be together long enough to know a break up, and , as for 'normal friends', she wasn't known for being much of a socializer at her school, whic was now out due to the war games aftermath. And so......her new apartment didn't seem so big as it seemed......
...
...
...
empty.
"Yeah sure." Rachael mumbled, casting her eyesdownward and pinching the bridge of her nose. It was like trying to talk to a brick wall.
'"Theres nothing you can do to help". That was a definite blow to her pride. She got up from where she had been ssitting on the bench and stared up the the stairs Tim had just ascended.
She didn't feel like going back up to the wake. It was all just to heavy up there.
She stretched and started towards the car garage and hopped on one of the less conspicuous motorcycles. Lost in thought, Rachael ran a hand through her now quite short hair, pulled on a helmet, and revved up the bike. Goood thing she had decided to wear dress pants instead of a skirt or dress, otherwise the ride would be a little more tricky.
She zoomed out of the batcave , paying half attention to the route to her new apartment. Knowing the gotham streets like the back of her hand, she arrived to a large, expensive apartment complex owned by Waynetech. She hid the bike in a space behind the parking garage and headed up the stairs towards the top floor, of which she owned half of. It wasn't as much of an apartment as you could say it was more like a penthouse. The first three quarters of her half was a spacious living area, and the forth quater was a hidden little compartment holding a make shift gym/crime lab.
As she entered the apartment, she moved a few boxes off of her new overstuffed couch and sat down tiredly, looking around at the mess of things that still needed to be put away.
She hadn't even put away half the stuff that needed to be so far. All of her old studd had been destroyed when the tower had been, so she had to go and reshop for everything, now including new furniture. But all that stuff could be replaced. All of it, except for her pictures and sketchbooks....the wallet size picture of her family from her 'old' demension, pictures of her and friends, pictures of tim, and the titans, and vic....
And through it all;after all the talk of enjoying being single again and having time to herself again that she had told Babs and Dinah after they had tried to fix her up again....She felt....lonely. She had enjoyed it at first, but a strange little void seemed to be growing as more and more of those she cared about seemed a bit farther away. Babs and trhe rest of the BOP were no longer stationed here anymore, she HAD had friend inthe titans, but she no longer belonged to the titans, her and tim had broken up, she and vic didn't even have the chance to be together long enough to know a break up, and , as for 'normal friends', she wasn't known for being much of a socializer at her school, whic was now out due to the war games aftermath. And so......her new apartment didn't seem so big as it seemed......
...
...
...
empty.
Robin - December 13, 2004 11:05 PM (GMT)
Tim Drake sat alone on the overstuffed bed in the bedroom that Alfred had set up for him, staring down at an old picture, the only sound heard was that of his laptop humming on the nearby desk and the strokes of the old clock out in the hall.
It was the same bedroom that he had used when he was living there after his mother had been killed and father had been put into a coma. The room look much like it had when Tim had left. Fancy mahogany desk, four poster bed, expensive bearu with a big screen TV inside, etc...
But despite the luxuries of the room, it wasn't his. He never lived in the Manor like Dick or Jason had. He had merely been a guest then just as he was now.
Time itself seemed to move slower, but what would one expect when they sat in a darkened room alone without sound or movement?
After his father's murder, Bruce had insisted that Dana and Tim stay at the manor until they were ready. Tim had brought with him a few changes of cloths, his laptop and the same photograph which he had been staring at.
It was a picture of the one time that Tim could remember his entire family together in one spot and were actually happy. The picture showed a 2 year old Tim Drake sitting on the lap of an 8 year old Dick Grayson, clad in a bright red, green and yellow acrobat's costume. Behind the boys were two couples. The first of which were Dick's parent's John and Mary Grayson, both dressed in costumes matching their son's. The other pair was Tim's own parents much younger and both very alive, Jack and Janet Drake.
Everyone looked so happy in that picture, even though the two year old Tim wasn't looking at the camera but rather staring up at the 8 year old Dick Grayson in awe. Tim had such fun that day, until Boss Zucco made his move against Haley's Circus and it resulted in the deaths of John and Mary Grayson.
Tim had always felt a multitude of emotions whenever he saw this picture, but right now...
"Tim?" Looking up, Tim saw Bruce standing in the doorway of the room. "Can I come in?"
Just as Falcon began making herself comfortable, someone else in the room clear their throat. Nightwing stepped out of the shadows and smiled a bit at the teenaged girl. "Hey Short-stuff. How's it going?" he asked trying to sound somewhat natural.
"Nice joint ya got here," he mused. "Much spaceier than your room in the..." Nightwing's voice trailed off as he throught back to the Tower and the red-headed woman who lived that. "Er... so, how'd your talk with Tim go?"
It was the same bedroom that he had used when he was living there after his mother had been killed and father had been put into a coma. The room look much like it had when Tim had left. Fancy mahogany desk, four poster bed, expensive bearu with a big screen TV inside, etc...
But despite the luxuries of the room, it wasn't his. He never lived in the Manor like Dick or Jason had. He had merely been a guest then just as he was now.
Time itself seemed to move slower, but what would one expect when they sat in a darkened room alone without sound or movement?
After his father's murder, Bruce had insisted that Dana and Tim stay at the manor until they were ready. Tim had brought with him a few changes of cloths, his laptop and the same photograph which he had been staring at.
It was a picture of the one time that Tim could remember his entire family together in one spot and were actually happy. The picture showed a 2 year old Tim Drake sitting on the lap of an 8 year old Dick Grayson, clad in a bright red, green and yellow acrobat's costume. Behind the boys were two couples. The first of which were Dick's parent's John and Mary Grayson, both dressed in costumes matching their son's. The other pair was Tim's own parents much younger and both very alive, Jack and Janet Drake.
Everyone looked so happy in that picture, even though the two year old Tim wasn't looking at the camera but rather staring up at the 8 year old Dick Grayson in awe. Tim had such fun that day, until Boss Zucco made his move against Haley's Circus and it resulted in the deaths of John and Mary Grayson.
Tim had always felt a multitude of emotions whenever he saw this picture, but right now...
"Tim?" Looking up, Tim saw Bruce standing in the doorway of the room. "Can I come in?"
Just as Falcon began making herself comfortable, someone else in the room clear their throat. Nightwing stepped out of the shadows and smiled a bit at the teenaged girl. "Hey Short-stuff. How's it going?" he asked trying to sound somewhat natural.
"Nice joint ya got here," he mused. "Much spaceier than your room in the..." Nightwing's voice trailed off as he throught back to the Tower and the red-headed woman who lived that. "Er... so, how'd your talk with Tim go?"
Falcon - December 23, 2004 08:07 PM (GMT)
Rachael raised an eyebrow and strood up, arms crossed."You have to ask?" she sighed, running a hand through her now short brown hair. "He was like trying to talk to a wall. Only I think walls would be easier to chat with than he was."
Robin - December 24, 2004 03:03 AM (GMT)
Dick let out a sigh as he flopped himself down on the couch, and pealed of his mask. "Tim's been through a lot over the past few months," he replied. "Tim had to reach his breaking point sooner or later. But I know what you mean, Rach. We all want to help him, but he's not making it very easy."
Dick leaned back in the couch and raced a hand through his shaggy black hair. "Listen, I was talking with Bruce and Alfred earlier and we both were thinking... Maybe Tim needs to take some time off from Gotham. But considering how he's been... well, a trip to caribbean alone isn't such a great idea, right?"
Dick paused for a bit and gave a little groan. "And well the a Titans Weekend is coming up, so we thought maybe if Tim went down to the T Tower and spent some time with people his own age, as oppose to the stiffs at the Mansion, well, maybe that might help. What do you think?"
"Its your house," Tim replied to Bruce, setting down the picture on the bedside table. Bruce raised an eyebrow at the short response he got from Tim, but kept his mind on the matter at hand.
"How-"
"Don't," Tim interupted. "Don't ask me 'how I'm doing', Bruce."
"Fair enough." Again Bruce studied his protoge for a long moment. He stepped further into the room, trying to chose the proper words for what came next. He had raised two boys, after the loss of their parents, not to mention a handful of other kids, and he still found these emotional times difficult to handle. One of the few areas in which the Batman wasn't an expert in. "You need to leave," he said finally.
Tim's head snapped up to Bruce with an expression that was as close to confusionas possible in his current condition. "What?"
"Not permanently," Bruce amended, wincing at his own words. Alfred was right. He really did need to work on his people skills. "Tim, you're in pain. And nothing we can do here, is helping you. Maybe the best thing for now is to leave Gotham for a little while. Get away from everything that has happened. Get your head had back together."
"You need me, Batman. Gotham needs me," Tim shot back. "After everything..."
"After everything that has happened, I need you to be at 100%, Tim. I can't have a partner who isn't all there." Bruce said, in a bit more 'bat'-like tone. "Nightwing and Batgirl are still here. They can take up the slack during your absence."
"You want me to run away?"
Bruce shook his head and sighed. "Tim, I'm asking you to get better. To help yourself. You've lost your father. I know what that is like."
"Whatever," Tim mumbled. "So what? I go back to Paris? More training?"
"Nothing like that," Bruce said. "You get to visit your friends."
Dick leaned back in the couch and raced a hand through his shaggy black hair. "Listen, I was talking with Bruce and Alfred earlier and we both were thinking... Maybe Tim needs to take some time off from Gotham. But considering how he's been... well, a trip to caribbean alone isn't such a great idea, right?"
Dick paused for a bit and gave a little groan. "And well the a Titans Weekend is coming up, so we thought maybe if Tim went down to the T Tower and spent some time with people his own age, as oppose to the stiffs at the Mansion, well, maybe that might help. What do you think?"
"Its your house," Tim replied to Bruce, setting down the picture on the bedside table. Bruce raised an eyebrow at the short response he got from Tim, but kept his mind on the matter at hand.
"How-"
"Don't," Tim interupted. "Don't ask me 'how I'm doing', Bruce."
"Fair enough." Again Bruce studied his protoge for a long moment. He stepped further into the room, trying to chose the proper words for what came next. He had raised two boys, after the loss of their parents, not to mention a handful of other kids, and he still found these emotional times difficult to handle. One of the few areas in which the Batman wasn't an expert in. "You need to leave," he said finally.
Tim's head snapped up to Bruce with an expression that was as close to confusionas possible in his current condition. "What?"
"Not permanently," Bruce amended, wincing at his own words. Alfred was right. He really did need to work on his people skills. "Tim, you're in pain. And nothing we can do here, is helping you. Maybe the best thing for now is to leave Gotham for a little while. Get away from everything that has happened. Get your head had back together."
"You need me, Batman. Gotham needs me," Tim shot back. "After everything..."
"After everything that has happened, I need you to be at 100%, Tim. I can't have a partner who isn't all there." Bruce said, in a bit more 'bat'-like tone. "Nightwing and Batgirl are still here. They can take up the slack during your absence."
"You want me to run away?"
Bruce shook his head and sighed. "Tim, I'm asking you to get better. To help yourself. You've lost your father. I know what that is like."
"Whatever," Tim mumbled. "So what? I go back to Paris? More training?"
"Nothing like that," Bruce said. "You get to visit your friends."
Falcon - December 24, 2004 10:12 PM (GMT)
Dick let out a sigh as he flopped himself down on the couch, and pealed of his mask. "Tim's been through a lot over the past few months," he replied. "Tim had to reach his breaking point sooner or later. But I know what you mean, Rach. We all want to help him, but he's not making it very easy."
"I know, I know." She said, sitting back down, and resting her elbow on her knee and her forehead in the palm of either hand. "Thats why I'm so worried about him right now...who knows what he's capable or not capable of doing now that he's reached that breaking point....."
Dick leaned back in the couch and raced a hand through his shaggy black hair. "Listen, I was talking with Bruce and Alfred earlier and we both were thinking... Maybe Tim needs to take some time off from Gotham. But considering how he's been... well, a trip to caribbean alone isn't such a great idea, right?"
Dick paused for a bit and gave a little groan. "And well the a Titans Weekend is coming up, so we thought maybe if Tim went down to the T Tower and spent some time with people his own age, as oppose to the stiffs at the Mansion, well, maybe that might help. What do you think?"
Head still in hand, she turned her head quizically, if not a bit tiredly, towards Dick. "It sounds pretty reasonable that he needs to be with friends now....Wait,how do I fit into all of this?...." Her eyes widen realization. "You don't mean you want me to....Whoa, one second Dick, One: I'm not with the Titans anymore, and Secondly: I'm not sure Tim WANTS me around anyhow. I don't know if I can do this!"
"I know, I know." She said, sitting back down, and resting her elbow on her knee and her forehead in the palm of either hand. "Thats why I'm so worried about him right now...who knows what he's capable or not capable of doing now that he's reached that breaking point....."
Dick leaned back in the couch and raced a hand through his shaggy black hair. "Listen, I was talking with Bruce and Alfred earlier and we both were thinking... Maybe Tim needs to take some time off from Gotham. But considering how he's been... well, a trip to caribbean alone isn't such a great idea, right?"
Dick paused for a bit and gave a little groan. "And well the a Titans Weekend is coming up, so we thought maybe if Tim went down to the T Tower and spent some time with people his own age, as oppose to the stiffs at the Mansion, well, maybe that might help. What do you think?"
Head still in hand, she turned her head quizically, if not a bit tiredly, towards Dick. "It sounds pretty reasonable that he needs to be with friends now....Wait,how do I fit into all of this?...." Her eyes widen realization. "You don't mean you want me to....Whoa, one second Dick, One: I'm not with the Titans anymore, and Secondly: I'm not sure Tim WANTS me around anyhow. I don't know if I can do this!"
Robin - December 25, 2004 05:57 AM (GMT)
"Chill out Rachel," Dick said quickly, trying to calm the younger vigilante. "I know you aren't a member of the Teen Titans, but you're still friends with them, right? More importantly you're friends with Tim."
Dick stood up and began to pace slightly around the room. He knew that he was asking alot of Rachel right now, what with the whole ex-girlfriend thing she and Tim had, but still...
"All I'm asking is that you go down to San Francisco with Robin. Keep an eye on him. Besides, it will give you a chance to get away from Gotham for while, yourself. After the gang war and everything going on with Young Justice, you can't tell me a little time off wouldn't do you a wee bit of good, can it?"
"My friends?" Tim asked, raising a curious eyebrow at Bruce.
"The Teen Titans," Bruce expanded. "They haven't seen you since the investigation for Sue's killer. You can... catch up with your friends. Take some time to recover."
Tim stared up at Bruce for a long while. Tim had known Bruce for over four years and there were few people who Tim respected as much as he did this man. But frankly, a part of him couldn't believe Bruce. Tim had no desire to be surrounded by more people who would ask him 'how he was doing' and walking on egg-shells around him.
"I don't think so," he said in a flat tone before turning away from his mentor. "I just want to be alone." There was a sharpness to Tim's voice signalling that he was dismissing Bruce, though the older man ignored it. Tim was a rank-amature when it came to the isolated brooding act. Bruce was the ultimate grand-master in that event.
"This isn't a request," Bruce said in a growl that boarder-lined on Batman. "Pack your things. On Friday morning you leave for San Francisco."
Tim glared up at Bruce, who had spun on his heels and walked out of the room. That was it. End of conversation.
A deep growl/sigh left Tim's mouth as he brought his legs up to his chest.
"Friday..."
Dick stood up and began to pace slightly around the room. He knew that he was asking alot of Rachel right now, what with the whole ex-girlfriend thing she and Tim had, but still...
"All I'm asking is that you go down to San Francisco with Robin. Keep an eye on him. Besides, it will give you a chance to get away from Gotham for while, yourself. After the gang war and everything going on with Young Justice, you can't tell me a little time off wouldn't do you a wee bit of good, can it?"
"My friends?" Tim asked, raising a curious eyebrow at Bruce.
"The Teen Titans," Bruce expanded. "They haven't seen you since the investigation for Sue's killer. You can... catch up with your friends. Take some time to recover."
Tim stared up at Bruce for a long while. Tim had known Bruce for over four years and there were few people who Tim respected as much as he did this man. But frankly, a part of him couldn't believe Bruce. Tim had no desire to be surrounded by more people who would ask him 'how he was doing' and walking on egg-shells around him.
"I don't think so," he said in a flat tone before turning away from his mentor. "I just want to be alone." There was a sharpness to Tim's voice signalling that he was dismissing Bruce, though the older man ignored it. Tim was a rank-amature when it came to the isolated brooding act. Bruce was the ultimate grand-master in that event.
"This isn't a request," Bruce said in a growl that boarder-lined on Batman. "Pack your things. On Friday morning you leave for San Francisco."
Tim glared up at Bruce, who had spun on his heels and walked out of the room. That was it. End of conversation.
A deep growl/sigh left Tim's mouth as he brought his legs up to his chest.
"Friday..."
Falcon - December 29, 2004 07:35 PM (GMT)
Rachael grunted and took a quick glance around the apartment. She really didn't know if she wanted to do this. Tim didn't seem like he wanted her around, and she felt she should give him the space he wanted. She wasn't going to push.
But Dick was right, Tim needed this. It was for his own good.
Heck, SHE needed this too.
Anything to avoid being here. She hated to admit it, but her "fancy schmancy big apartment" kinda creeped her out. And she would rather be anywhere to avoid the empty feeling this place gave her alone.......
"Alright." She sighed. "I'll do it. You'r right. I could probably use the time off and Tim probably realy needs someone to watch his back right now anyways." Sshe said, kicking at the carpet with one shoe for something to keep her occupied.
But Dick was right, Tim needed this. It was for his own good.
Heck, SHE needed this too.
Anything to avoid being here. She hated to admit it, but her "fancy schmancy big apartment" kinda creeped her out. And she would rather be anywhere to avoid the empty feeling this place gave her alone.......
"Alright." She sighed. "I'll do it. You'r right. I could probably use the time off and Tim probably realy needs someone to watch his back right now anyways." Sshe said, kicking at the carpet with one shoe for something to keep her occupied.
Robin - December 30, 2004 12:09 AM (GMT)
"Of course I'm right," Nightwing said. He wasn't being smug or anything, when he said it. It just seemed appropriate to say. "Thanks kiddo. Okay so here's how we're going to work things..."
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA.
FRIDAY. 12:45 PM.
There was a dark silence in the Bat-wing as it streaked across the state of California. Batman piloted the massive vehicle with narrowed and grim determination. He had not spoken one word to Robin since they had left Gotham earlier that morning. And that was perfectly fine with Tim Drake, who was now clad in the guise of Robin.
This had been the first day since the... incident that he had worn the costume. He almost hadn't. Both Batman and Alfred had assured him that it wasn't necessary that he wear it. He did anyways.
Not because he wanted to. He didn't seem to want to much of anything lately. But rather he wore it because... well... he just did.
During a majority of the flight, Robin had let his attention wander, mostly staring out the window at the passing clouds and land far below them. There was a distant air about the Boy Wonder that did not go unnoticed by his mentor.
Batman was getting more concern about his partner by the moment. Tim hadn't even put up an arguement about going to San Francisco, when Bruce had entered his room to remind him. He had just sluggishly gotten up, gone down to the cave suited up, and dropped himself into the jet. Nothing more. No arguemnt. No annoyance. Not one iota of emotion.
It was... unnerving.
At last the small island in the middle of San Francisco Bay could came into view and on it the giant T tower. Adjusting a few of the controls, Batman dropped the jet to a lower altitutde and aimed for the Tower. Once the had positioned themselves above the Tower, the Batwing dropped into a vertical landing, and as gently as a leaf it set down on the top of the giant T.
Opening the hatch, Batman turned his head towards Robin. "We're here," he grunted.
Robin shrugged and grabbing his bag which was filled with a change of clothes and his laptop, climbed out of the jet. He made no comments, and did not even turn to look at Batman. Instead he walked over the the rooftop door that would lead into the Tower.
Batman seemed to gain a more grim apperance about him as the hatch closed shut again, and the state-of-the-art wing lifted off the ground and flew back to the east coast.
Robin meanwhile had entered the tower unnoticed. Tim wasn't sure why he was even here. But if all went well, he would slip into his room and remain there ALONE for the remaineder of the weekend.
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA.
FRIDAY. 12:45 PM.
There was a dark silence in the Bat-wing as it streaked across the state of California. Batman piloted the massive vehicle with narrowed and grim determination. He had not spoken one word to Robin since they had left Gotham earlier that morning. And that was perfectly fine with Tim Drake, who was now clad in the guise of Robin.
This had been the first day since the... incident that he had worn the costume. He almost hadn't. Both Batman and Alfred had assured him that it wasn't necessary that he wear it. He did anyways.
Not because he wanted to. He didn't seem to want to much of anything lately. But rather he wore it because... well... he just did.
During a majority of the flight, Robin had let his attention wander, mostly staring out the window at the passing clouds and land far below them. There was a distant air about the Boy Wonder that did not go unnoticed by his mentor.
Batman was getting more concern about his partner by the moment. Tim hadn't even put up an arguement about going to San Francisco, when Bruce had entered his room to remind him. He had just sluggishly gotten up, gone down to the cave suited up, and dropped himself into the jet. Nothing more. No arguemnt. No annoyance. Not one iota of emotion.
It was... unnerving.
At last the small island in the middle of San Francisco Bay could came into view and on it the giant T tower. Adjusting a few of the controls, Batman dropped the jet to a lower altitutde and aimed for the Tower. Once the had positioned themselves above the Tower, the Batwing dropped into a vertical landing, and as gently as a leaf it set down on the top of the giant T.
Opening the hatch, Batman turned his head towards Robin. "We're here," he grunted.
Robin shrugged and grabbing his bag which was filled with a change of clothes and his laptop, climbed out of the jet. He made no comments, and did not even turn to look at Batman. Instead he walked over the the rooftop door that would lead into the Tower.
Batman seemed to gain a more grim apperance about him as the hatch closed shut again, and the state-of-the-art wing lifted off the ground and flew back to the east coast.
Robin meanwhile had entered the tower unnoticed. Tim wasn't sure why he was even here. But if all went well, he would slip into his room and remain there ALONE for the remaineder of the weekend.
Falcon - December 30, 2004 06:09 PM (GMT)
"Hey, Robin. Good to see you could make it." Falcon said, in full falcon garb, not looking up from her book she was reading where she sat on the couch in the living/rec room near the hallway as Tim passed by.
Marx - December 30, 2004 06:29 PM (GMT)
Opponent Defeated. Elapsed Time: 2 minutes 18 seconds
Will dropped to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He'd been training almost nonstop since the whole ordeal with Vicious happened. Since he gave up his Hellborn powers he'd always had that feeling like he wouldn't be of as much use as he had been, and being put into a full body cast really gives you your doubts. If only he'd been stronger he might have gotten Vicious before he attacked the others, it was his fault and he wasn't going to let that happen again. "Well...my time's definitely getting better." Will said to himself as he braced himself on the wall. He'd been in the training room all morning, and wasn't even sure if anyone was in the Tower yet. Stepping out of the room, he made his way to the kitchen when he heard a voice.
"Hey, Robin. Good to see you could make it."
Robin? Well that was the last person he expected to see in the Tower this weekend. Not to mention that sounded like Racheal's voice. He'd heard about the death of Tim's father, but he made a point of giving him his space and not going out of his way to go to Gotham. When he wanted to talk about it, he'd come there. Taking a deep breath Will made his way to where he heard the voice.
Will dropped to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He'd been training almost nonstop since the whole ordeal with Vicious happened. Since he gave up his Hellborn powers he'd always had that feeling like he wouldn't be of as much use as he had been, and being put into a full body cast really gives you your doubts. If only he'd been stronger he might have gotten Vicious before he attacked the others, it was his fault and he wasn't going to let that happen again. "Well...my time's definitely getting better." Will said to himself as he braced himself on the wall. He'd been in the training room all morning, and wasn't even sure if anyone was in the Tower yet. Stepping out of the room, he made his way to the kitchen when he heard a voice.
"Hey, Robin. Good to see you could make it."
Robin? Well that was the last person he expected to see in the Tower this weekend. Not to mention that sounded like Racheal's voice. He'd heard about the death of Tim's father, but he made a point of giving him his space and not going out of his way to go to Gotham. When he wanted to talk about it, he'd come there. Taking a deep breath Will made his way to where he heard the voice.
Robin - December 31, 2004 12:35 AM (GMT)
"Hey, Robin. Good to see you could make it."
Robin paused in mid-step to see Falcon sitting upon the couch, reading a book and looking completely and totally at home. Normally one would have expect some sort of reaction from Tim. A look of suprise followed by the question of 'what she was doing there.' After all, she wasn't a Teen Titan anymore. She had moved on to leading her own team of heroes over with Young Justice.
But no such queries came from Robin. Instead he turned to look at Falcon momentarily with the same emotionless expression that he had worn back in Gotham, which as it turned out to be somewhat more unnerving by the white lenses of his mask. He said nothing in response to Falcon, not even attempted to force a smile. Instead he turned back and ccontinued down the hallway towards the stairs that led to the boy's dormatories and passing by Harm.
Once again, Tim made no indication that he had noticed the villain-turned-hero. No looks. No greetings. Absolutely nothing. He simply passed by with a look of forlorned loss.
Robin paused in mid-step to see Falcon sitting upon the couch, reading a book and looking completely and totally at home. Normally one would have expect some sort of reaction from Tim. A look of suprise followed by the question of 'what she was doing there.' After all, she wasn't a Teen Titan anymore. She had moved on to leading her own team of heroes over with Young Justice.
But no such queries came from Robin. Instead he turned to look at Falcon momentarily with the same emotionless expression that he had worn back in Gotham, which as it turned out to be somewhat more unnerving by the white lenses of his mask. He said nothing in response to Falcon, not even attempted to force a smile. Instead he turned back and ccontinued down the hallway towards the stairs that led to the boy's dormatories and passing by Harm.
Once again, Tim made no indication that he had noticed the villain-turned-hero. No looks. No greetings. Absolutely nothing. He simply passed by with a look of forlorned loss.
Marx - December 31, 2004 01:08 AM (GMT)
Harm's eyes narrowed slightly as Robin walked by him. "You don't have to say anything or even acknowledge me if you don't want to. I...have an idea of how you feel...and I'm here if you want to talk." After saying that, Will made his way back to the kitchen. He also lost his father, though the main difference is that the villain that killed his father was himself. He didn't know all the details of how it happened, but he did think that at least Tim's father knew that he loved him. Burt Hayes only knew the son that he was forced to kill, and killed him later in return. As far as parents go, Will had no one. His father was dead and his mother...well...he'd rather not think about it.
Falcon - December 31, 2004 01:20 AM (GMT)
Falcon put her book down and frowned as Tim walked by with no response. she leaned forward, hands on knees and shook her head. yeah, she was definitely worried about Tim.
She groaned lowly so noone could possibly hear her from outside the room and cradeled her head in her hands a second before bringing it back up. She just wished she knew HOW she could help. What to do. No, she knew what to do, just wait right where she was. She knew tim knew her well enough to know that even though they were over, she would still be here whenever he felt like he was ready to talk. But it was hard.
She hadn't known Jack all to well except for the few times that she had met his parents. But he definitely was a good father. At least for the last few years. Sure, he had pulled Tim from costume for awhile. And while that frustrated her to no end at the time, she had understood it. What kind of parent would want his kid out there? Jack had been a nice guy. He definitely didn't deserve to die. No nice guys do. There was just so much crap in the world these days.....
She groaned lowly so noone could possibly hear her from outside the room and cradeled her head in her hands a second before bringing it back up. She just wished she knew HOW she could help. What to do. No, she knew what to do, just wait right where she was. She knew tim knew her well enough to know that even though they were over, she would still be here whenever he felt like he was ready to talk. But it was hard.
She hadn't known Jack all to well except for the few times that she had met his parents. But he definitely was a good father. At least for the last few years. Sure, he had pulled Tim from costume for awhile. And while that frustrated her to no end at the time, she had understood it. What kind of parent would want his kid out there? Jack had been a nice guy. He definitely didn't deserve to die. No nice guys do. There was just so much crap in the world these days.....
Robin - December 31, 2004 01:36 AM (GMT)
Robin had heard Harm's words, but made no sign that he aknowledge them. How many times had he heard that expression? 'I know how you feel.' It was almost as repetative as 'how are you doing?'
Tim entered the access code to his bedroom and stepping into the suprisingly neat and tidey bedroom. It was so much different than the rooms of Superboy, Kid Flash, Harm or Beast Boy.
It had been something that Dick had said when Tim had started as Robin. "My life is so orderly, my approach to events so structured, that I need a place where, well, choas rules."
That turned out to be a truth for Tim as well. But that place for him, had been his bedroom back in Gotham. Key word being 'had'.
Setting his bag down, Robin stared out of the massive window over San Francisco's Bay, thinking about Harm's earlier comment.
'I have an idea of how you feel.'
How could that be possible, when Tim himself had no idea how he felt. He knew that there were several stages of mourning, after a death. But he hadn't even touched on them yet.
He wasn't angry. He wasn't sad. He wasn't even annoyed by everyone's constant questions about his well-being. He simply felt empty. Completely empty.
Maybe Tim Drake had died that same day as his father. Maybe Tim really was destined to follow in Batman's steps and that Tim Drake would become his mask instead of Robin.
"So where does that leave me now?" he asked in a soft voice.
Tim entered the access code to his bedroom and stepping into the suprisingly neat and tidey bedroom. It was so much different than the rooms of Superboy, Kid Flash, Harm or Beast Boy.
It had been something that Dick had said when Tim had started as Robin. "My life is so orderly, my approach to events so structured, that I need a place where, well, choas rules."
That turned out to be a truth for Tim as well. But that place for him, had been his bedroom back in Gotham. Key word being 'had'.
Setting his bag down, Robin stared out of the massive window over San Francisco's Bay, thinking about Harm's earlier comment.
'I have an idea of how you feel.'
How could that be possible, when Tim himself had no idea how he felt. He knew that there were several stages of mourning, after a death. But he hadn't even touched on them yet.
He wasn't angry. He wasn't sad. He wasn't even annoyed by everyone's constant questions about his well-being. He simply felt empty. Completely empty.
Maybe Tim Drake had died that same day as his father. Maybe Tim really was destined to follow in Batman's steps and that Tim Drake would become his mask instead of Robin.
"So where does that leave me now?" he asked in a soft voice.
Shinigami - December 31, 2004 11:25 AM (GMT)
Duo was only a short way down the corridor from Tim, sat in the midst of her own room at Titan's Tower. She sat in the centre of her bed, her head cradled in her hands and her wide eyes straining from lack of moisture and exhaustion.
Duo was tired, physically and mentally, sleep had been erratic and generally alluding her at the best of times, the nightmares of old and new events ripping through peaceful and tranquil sleeps to bring her jolting awake screaming at the top of her lungs!
It had gotten to the point where she had started sleeping most nights at Titan's Tower rather than at Elias High, after one or two nights of concerned classmates and even teachers storming into her room to find a teary eyed, terrified screaming girl just waking from another night of mental torture had been too much.
Supersonic had been wonderful, with her lack of wings her means of travel had been reduced to public transport, so she preferred to call her own personal taxi service in the form of Marxy, who's fares were exceptionally reasonable and could often be paid in the form of a donut! Plus her sleepless nights were often so horrific that she would find herself shamelessly calling him in the middle of the night just so she didn't have to be alone...always secretly terrified that Lister would be along at any moment...
Duo didn't think that Marxy minded too much...she hadn't been the only person to suffer from nightmares and he had made clear that he appreciated the company at night as much as she did...
"Grrrr, this is ridiculous!" She moaned, raising her head and standing up, she headed for the door, sitting alone in her room was not doing anything to lighten her mood.
She stormed along the corridor, wanting simply to be in the company of others, it had been difficult, at times she wanted to stay as far away as people as possible, not wanting to endanger them, and simply to get away from the prying questions consulting the stability of her sanity and the constant watchful eyes of her friends, half expecting her to try and end things again.
Duo paused momentarily as she noticed the door or Tim's room was slightly ajar and the lone figure of Robin standing amidst the immaculately tidy room. Duo felt a pang of guilt, her own pain was still very raw but for Robin...
Duo hadn't been around for her parents death, she saw that as a kind of blessing in itself...but she knew how frantic and heartbroken she had felt when she thought Lister had succeeded in killing Marxy...she could only imagine what Tim was going through...
She was half tempted to stop and check on him...but refrained, she had hated it enough when every one had been badgering her...she wasn't about to do the same to Tim, so she continued on her way to see if anyone else was about...
Duo was tired, physically and mentally, sleep had been erratic and generally alluding her at the best of times, the nightmares of old and new events ripping through peaceful and tranquil sleeps to bring her jolting awake screaming at the top of her lungs!
It had gotten to the point where she had started sleeping most nights at Titan's Tower rather than at Elias High, after one or two nights of concerned classmates and even teachers storming into her room to find a teary eyed, terrified screaming girl just waking from another night of mental torture had been too much.
Supersonic had been wonderful, with her lack of wings her means of travel had been reduced to public transport, so she preferred to call her own personal taxi service in the form of Marxy, who's fares were exceptionally reasonable and could often be paid in the form of a donut! Plus her sleepless nights were often so horrific that she would find herself shamelessly calling him in the middle of the night just so she didn't have to be alone...always secretly terrified that Lister would be along at any moment...
Duo didn't think that Marxy minded too much...she hadn't been the only person to suffer from nightmares and he had made clear that he appreciated the company at night as much as she did...
"Grrrr, this is ridiculous!" She moaned, raising her head and standing up, she headed for the door, sitting alone in her room was not doing anything to lighten her mood.
She stormed along the corridor, wanting simply to be in the company of others, it had been difficult, at times she wanted to stay as far away as people as possible, not wanting to endanger them, and simply to get away from the prying questions consulting the stability of her sanity and the constant watchful eyes of her friends, half expecting her to try and end things again.
Duo paused momentarily as she noticed the door or Tim's room was slightly ajar and the lone figure of Robin standing amidst the immaculately tidy room. Duo felt a pang of guilt, her own pain was still very raw but for Robin...
Duo hadn't been around for her parents death, she saw that as a kind of blessing in itself...but she knew how frantic and heartbroken she had felt when she thought Lister had succeeded in killing Marxy...she could only imagine what Tim was going through...
She was half tempted to stop and check on him...but refrained, she had hated it enough when every one had been badgering her...she wasn't about to do the same to Tim, so she continued on her way to see if anyone else was about...
Robin - December 31, 2004 07:34 PM (GMT)
Somewhere in San Francisco...
The room was silent. Several dozen individuals stood about, hidden in the many shadows, that were created by the single large spot light set in the center of the room.
None of them were certain why they had been summoned. Ever since the death of Ra's Al Ghul, the League of Assasins had fallen into disarray. The Demon Head's oldest daughter had taken up the role of leader, but she was not her father. She was insane.
And Talia Head, the true successor to the Demon Head had gone into hidding. Ra's Al Ghul had no other living succsessors. The Detective had been offer the position on mutlipe occassions, but the fool had rejected it.
And yet they had been summoned by someone who knew the workings of the League. They had gone directly through the proper channels. They had been very specific on what they needed. PAINFULLY specific.
"It is time to rebuild the League of Assasin to what it once was," began the mysterious benefactor. "The False Heir has been destroying us due to her stupidity.
"Each of you has been paid handsomely for your arrivals. You shall recieve twice as much for your completion of this task." A television on the far side of the room appeared, showing multiple images. Wonder Girl, Superboy, Falcon, Harm, Shinigami, Secret.
"These are not our target. But they will most likely get in our way."
"Who is our target?"
"He is." The image on the screen changed. Instead of the costumed heroes of the Teen Titans, there was teenaged boy in a black suit, standing before a gravestone looking out with dark emotionless blue eyes.
"Your mission is to kill Timothy Drake."
There was a murmer of suprise amongst the assasins.
"A child?" said one of them. "We were expecting a challange. What could his death possibly mean for the leagues survi-URK!" There was the sound of a rapid movement, followed by a crack, and the sound of someone's body falling to the floor.
A man's body was kicked out into the spotlight, his dead eyes staring up in horror. He had been dead before he hit the ground.
The mysterious leader steped out into the spotlight and smirked. "Questions? Comments?"
The room was silent. Several dozen individuals stood about, hidden in the many shadows, that were created by the single large spot light set in the center of the room.
None of them were certain why they had been summoned. Ever since the death of Ra's Al Ghul, the League of Assasins had fallen into disarray. The Demon Head's oldest daughter had taken up the role of leader, but she was not her father. She was insane.
And Talia Head, the true successor to the Demon Head had gone into hidding. Ra's Al Ghul had no other living succsessors. The Detective had been offer the position on mutlipe occassions, but the fool had rejected it.
And yet they had been summoned by someone who knew the workings of the League. They had gone directly through the proper channels. They had been very specific on what they needed. PAINFULLY specific.
"It is time to rebuild the League of Assasin to what it once was," began the mysterious benefactor. "The False Heir has been destroying us due to her stupidity.
"Each of you has been paid handsomely for your arrivals. You shall recieve twice as much for your completion of this task." A television on the far side of the room appeared, showing multiple images. Wonder Girl, Superboy, Falcon, Harm, Shinigami, Secret.
"These are not our target. But they will most likely get in our way."
"Who is our target?"
"He is." The image on the screen changed. Instead of the costumed heroes of the Teen Titans, there was teenaged boy in a black suit, standing before a gravestone looking out with dark emotionless blue eyes.
"Your mission is to kill Timothy Drake."
There was a murmer of suprise amongst the assasins.
"A child?" said one of them. "We were expecting a challange. What could his death possibly mean for the leagues survi-URK!" There was the sound of a rapid movement, followed by a crack, and the sound of someone's body falling to the floor.
A man's body was kicked out into the spotlight, his dead eyes staring up in horror. He had been dead before he hit the ground.
The mysterious leader steped out into the spotlight and smirked. "Questions? Comments?"
Falcon - December 31, 2004 11:19 PM (GMT)
Hearing the subtle sound of footsteps once again from the hallway, Falcon put a halt to herthoughts and looked up to see who it was.
"Hey, Duo." falcon said with a small, welcome smile.
"Hey, Duo." falcon said with a small, welcome smile.
Marx - December 31, 2004 11:34 PM (GMT)
In the volcano HQ of Young Justice, Supersonic sat in his room hugging his knees as he flipped through the channels. To be honest he was in one of those moods that nothing on TV really seemed worth watching. He'd tried watching an action movie but the fight scenes just seemed too realistic to him. He couldn't enjoy it. Flopping down on the bed, Marx stared at the ceiling. No one was really in the HQ at the moment and he wanted to talk to someone or he'd just end up staring aimlessly around the room.
He knew Duo was at the Tower because he'd taken her himself. It had been one of the few nights where he wasn't there with her. He'd actually been spending more time in Titans Tower than he did in his own HQ, no reason to stop the trend now. Zooming out of the room Marx made his way to Titans Tower.
He knew Duo was at the Tower because he'd taken her himself. It had been one of the few nights where he wasn't there with her. He'd actually been spending more time in Titans Tower than he did in his own HQ, no reason to stop the trend now. Zooming out of the room Marx made his way to Titans Tower.
Shinigami - January 1, 2005 03:14 PM (GMT)
"Hey, Duo."
Duo turned to the direction of the soft welcome to see Falcon. Duo was somewhat surprised to see her in Titans Tower, but if Tim was back then it seemed logical that Falcon would be around for moral support. It was sweet in fact, Duo was just grateful that Greta wasn't here, although she sincerely hoped that in the light of all the events that had transpired recently that they would refrain from snide insults.
"Hey Falcon...it's been a while..." Duo said meekly, she hadn't really seen Falcon since the split of the two teams, she had been avoiding YJ HQ a lot before the incident with Lister so she hadn't seen her...then after that...
Duo took a seat next to the girl, discreetly brushing her eyes quickly to try and sooth the ache of lack of sleep, she was beginning to regret having told Marxy that she'd be fine hence him not being there right now.
She felt a little dishonest asking after Tim behind his back, but she was concerned, he had been so supportive through the Lister deal...
"Falcon...any idea how Tim is doing?"
Duo turned to the direction of the soft welcome to see Falcon. Duo was somewhat surprised to see her in Titans Tower, but if Tim was back then it seemed logical that Falcon would be around for moral support. It was sweet in fact, Duo was just grateful that Greta wasn't here, although she sincerely hoped that in the light of all the events that had transpired recently that they would refrain from snide insults.
"Hey Falcon...it's been a while..." Duo said meekly, she hadn't really seen Falcon since the split of the two teams, she had been avoiding YJ HQ a lot before the incident with Lister so she hadn't seen her...then after that...
Duo took a seat next to the girl, discreetly brushing her eyes quickly to try and sooth the ache of lack of sleep, she was beginning to regret having told Marxy that she'd be fine hence him not being there right now.
She felt a little dishonest asking after Tim behind his back, but she was concerned, he had been so supportive through the Lister deal...
"Falcon...any idea how Tim is doing?"
Falcon - January 1, 2005 06:12 PM (GMT)
Falcon shook her head and brought her legs up to sit indian style, hands on ankles. "Honestly, it's hard to tell. He won't talk to anyone." She said with a frown. "i'm ...worried about him, though." She said, looking off thoughtfully before blinking and looking back to duo. She didn't look like she was doing to well, either. "Hopefully he'll talk to someone though when he's ready."
Marx - January 1, 2005 08:29 PM (GMT)
"That's what I'm hoping as well. I didn't even get as much as a nod. I'm sure he just needs some time to himself right now." Will said as he appeared by Duo and Racheal eating a sandwich.
"Who does?" Super said zooming around the three of them before stopping beside Duo.
"Who does?" Super said zooming around the three of them before stopping beside Duo.