Athena shoots upright as soon as her eyes fly open, gasping. She calls on her spear and slashes in a brutal curve, provoking shouts from the enemies who'd been holding her down as they back off. Bares her teeth in a snarl as she grabs the sheets off the bed to whip at the eyes of the assailants and-
Light floods into her eyes as they step away from her attack and she freezes as she remembers a flash of brightness too fast to escape, heat and burning like never before, electricity that seeped into her very bones, thunder that deafened, lightning that hurt-
"Get back!" She hears and turns unsteadily back to- back to where Apollo is pulling Ares back by the cape against the far wall. Apollo. Ares. Aphrodite, Aephestus, Artemis.
"Wh-" She manages, before she's bowled over, coughing. She has never done it before, and she can't stop it from happening- chest rattling as her knees give out, barely holding herself up with her spear in time to reach the bed. It doesn't stop, doesn't stop, plumes of smoke escaping her mouth as she can't stop, can't breathe-
"Athena," Hera whispers, and a rough hand gently touches her on the shoulder, handing her a glass of nectar. She accepts it gratefully, tilting her head back to down it. It's soothing like it's never been before, stoping the coughing at last and it clears her headache long enough to realize that she isn't in her armour- she's in a chiton.
"Where is my armour?" She rasps as soon as she can, wiping her mouth. Looks around- Apollo's chambers.
She'd always known being the favourite wouldn't protect her forever. But repeating the words didn't seem to reduce the hurt.
Nor the shaking fear.
"-not!" Apollo is saying, indignantly setting his hands on his hips. "Do you have any idea how hard you got hit? You're lucky I could even stabilize your aspect enough to reduce some of the damage, otherwise you'd still be having a seizure back at Mount Olympus!"
"Mount Olympus," Athena mutters oddly, without much intent to it. She tries to stand again and her vision suddenly cuts out, provoking a round of screams as she loses her balance.
When the world blurrily comes back into focus- and she doesn't like this, hates this sudden weakness; she's always been able to get back up from any blow, has never visited a medical chamber in her existence, even when they had to fight the Titans- she's in Ares' arms, oddly horizontal.
"Cease this stupidity, sister," Artemis hisses at her as she grabs onto Athena's arms to bring her back to the bed. "Calm yourself. You are alive. You are safe."
"My armour," Athena says, voice cracking, head rolling oddly on her neck, unable to look upright. She catches a glimpse of Aephastus holding onto a sobbing Aphrodite, staring at her with a strange sort of sorrow.
Something twinges in Athena's chest in reply, but she stumbles before she can address it, feeling a fission of panic at the instability before Ares' grip on her tightens enough to keep her upright. They're all staring at her like that, she realizes, with that same horrified heartbreak.
"Didn't Artemis just tell you to cease stupidity?" Ares barks, though it's rather quietly said, for him. He adjusts her on the bed until she can lean back against the pillows. His hands are shaking, and Athena stares at them with curiosity. "Weren't you the one to lecture me half to death about when to remove the armour?"
"What," She says weakly, then moans as an aftershock trembles through her, residual sparks humming maliciously as they exit her skin, leaving her trembling. "I- hmmm, what? What were- what were-"
"Athena, calm down, please, you're scaring us," Hera says, bangles jangling as she sits down next to her, taking one of Athena's hands with desperation. Athena tilts her head to squint, noticing the tears for the first time, before she shudders as her skin registers the heat, the unbearable heat.
"Scaring?" She murmurs when it stops, voice coming out smaller than she intended it to.
"Her fever keeps rising and falling," Apollo reenters the room before anyone can answer, carrying a large tub of some odd liquid. "Here, help me rub this on her skin, it should extract any remaining- any remaining lightning."
They all move towards the tub at the same time, dipping the cloths provided and then taking positions in a circle surrounding her. Athena stiffens, fingers twitching for a weapon, but the first touch of Hera's drenched cloth on her forehead makes her moan in relief, the blessed coolness of it making her melt back into the sheets. She has no strength to complain or protest when her fellow gods each take a limb to rub at, a sensation both horrifically terrible and unbearably good. She has never taken her armour off in her life.
"Easy, that's it," Apollo says coaxingly, lips downturned like he's trying not to cry. She whimpers as the cloth on her left leg suddenly burns as a spark escapes, instinctively pulling it away, but Aphrodite grabs it before she can and resumes rubbing, whispering apologies. She turns her head and weakly opens her mouth for the herb Apollo lifts to her lips, desperate for relief from the splitting headache.
She can't think. She can't think.
Athena has no idea how long it goes on, how long the other gods ignore their realms to tend to her. Slowly, they strike up a conversation, something light-hearted that she can't follow- different from their never-ending arguments and insults, as they talk about the past year and humourous stories and varied anecdotes.
Athena can't help but relax into it, the soft bed at her back and gentle hands massaging her sore muscles and warmth all around her. Feels something trembling within her since she first became aware of herself settling down with a sigh.
Until she suddenly smells ozone.
Hera and Apollo both notice her tensing up immediately, and look to where she can hear slow footsteps approaching. Apollo growls and shoots out a hand, bringing up the shields of his realm.
The conversation dies down as they all look to the side, at the distinct shadow at the other side of the curtain.
Rage, Athena realises, thoughts slow and muddied. They're angry with him.
"I will handle this," Hera says coldly, with the steel undertone that Athena strives for. She moves her cloth aside and leans down to kiss Athena on the forehead, like a mother would. "You rest, my daughter."
Athena's breath hitches, eyes burning. Nobody has ever cared for her, apart from Zeu-
Nobody has ever cared for her.
... Nobody has-
Hera turns sharply at the noise that suddenly escapes Athena, half hysterical laugh and half distraught wail.
"Did I win?" Athena asks desperately, pushing herself upright, ignoring the protests of the others as she pulls her limbs from their grasp. Hera stares at her and Athena grabs the side of the bed as she tries to lever herself up like a wild animal, demanding in a broken voice, "Did I win?"
A silence that stretches for a painful moment before- "Yes," Aephastus says, putting his hand on her shoulder to guide her back from the edge. "Yes, Athena, you won."
A strangled gasp of relief leaves her, making her light-headed as she leans back against the pillows. She shivers, then sobs- humiliation running through her before she hears an answering noise of sorrow from Aphrodite next to her, pressure all around as her five younger siblings embrace her carefully, gently, like she would break at any moment.
She's not the one who's been raped by a Titan's daughter for seven years.
The thought has her breath hitching, wiping her tears away with a hand that refuses to co-operate the first few tries. "I need to-"
"No," Artemis snaps, glaring at her. "I know you think of nothing but your work, but Athena, you cannot do it this time." Outside, Hera's and Zeus' voices rise as they begin to shout and scream. "You must rest."
"N-no, that's not- aah," She groans as another aftershock rips through her, leaving her panting and soaked in sweat when it's done. "I need to- I need-"
"Hermes has gone to his grandson," Aephastus says soothingly. "Peace, Athena. Your hero is free."
For a moment, it doesn't comprehend and she stares at him blankly. "Free," She repeats, words still infuriatingly faint and lilting. "He's free? I- I need my helmet, where is-"
"No, Athena!"
"Sister, please, you cannot resume your duties, you are in no state!"
"I need my helmet, please, please- just give me my helmet!"
Her cry echoes off the walls and she hears herself when it bounces back to her, broken and pleading and so unlike her she feels nauseous. Her siblings have gone silent and still at her begging, staring at her with shock and horror and fear and sorrow alike. Even Zeus and Hera have stopped talking.
Athena shakes, wishing she could rip this awful vulnerability out of her veins, wishes she could find a stone footing to stand on once more, wishes she wasn't in this horrible chiton.
"Please," She whispers.
Quietly, Aephastus gets to his feet and walks in the direction of the nearby drawers, where she can now see her belongings stacked up haphazardly, blood-stained.
"Sister, you must calm down," Aphrodite pleads. She takes her hands and Athena dazedly looks down at her, with her wide, scared eyes. Seizure, her mind registers finally from Apollo's earlier talk. Ah. She seems to have frightened them all. "You cannot afford a relapse."
Athena squeezes her fingers in acknowledgement, but reaches for the helmet when it's held out, dented and worn.
She touches the metal and feels the full force of seven years of silenced prayers hit her at once.
She's crying before she knows she's doing it, clutching the helmet to her chest as the warmth of the worship wraps around her like a shawl, and holds it tight against her as Ares tries to pry it away.
"No, no!" Apollo intervenes, shifting forward. He touches a hand to the helmet and suddenly the hymn bursts forth around them, loud even though the prayer itself is quiet and broken. Athena inhales at the feeling of it, soothing over the cracks in her own mind with their never-ending continuity, desolate, unbroken faith even when she never came to help-
He's still singing.
She shifts her hands on the helmet to make sure but- yes. Odysseus is calling her, still, at this very moment.
Her head snaps up, but even the dizziness the motion causes doesn't take away from how much clearer the room looks. "Where is he?"
"Sister-"
"If you do not answer me, I will take to the skies myself," She says firmly. "Where is he?"
Her siblings exchange looks.
"Three days out from Ithaka," Artemis replies with a sigh. "On a raft. But listen, wait but an hour, at least absorb these prayers-"
Athena stumbles off the bed and pulls on the helmet, closing her eyes.
"Wait, the bandages-!"
"Athena, you'll hurt yourself, please!"
"Daughter, be careful!"
Athena opens her eyes and looks out at the waves, rough and choppy, but not enough to sink the raft. She looks down and looks at the way the faded clothes don't fit him, the way he has no water left to drink but he still continues to sing.
"Odysseus," She says, and he freezes.
A wave rises and falls. They stay silent, unmoving.
"Won't you look?" The words break out of her, cracked and desperate.
He inhales and exhales, tears in the sound of it. "I don't want to look if you're... if you're not really here."
She swallows against the lump in her throat, takes a step forward. "Well, I-" Her voice cracks, but the fragile grin on her face is real as it spreads, the frailest thread of laughter entering her voice. "I would hope. That if you were hallucinating of me, that the spectre would at least have wisdom enough to tell you that you were."
Odysseus sobs and her heart cracks, feels his heart cracking in turn; yet it is akin to a misaligned bone that never healed right and has to be reset- she can hear the laughter before it comes, with relief coming from the brink of madness, with joy they'd both forgotten and missed. "It is you."
"I could not reach you on Ogygia," She blurts out, desperate to make him understand. "Could not hear your call. I would have come the second time you prayed, if I had."
"It is you," He whispers, swaying. A wave rises suddenly and they both burst into movement, grabbing ropes and pulling the mast, balancing together to keep it steady.
The wave passes. They are almost touching now.
"Won't you look?" Athena asks again, raw and grieving. "Odysseus. My companion, my friend. Please."
He turns at that, a stunned expression on his face- before it turns into wide-eyed horror as he looks at her. She laughs breathlessly, slightly dizzy, but- her friend. How lovely it is to see him again.
"Athena!" He rushes forward with unexpected vitality, the parts of him that she knew suddenly rising to light in his eyes, in his movements, becoming unhidden from the defeated, beaten figure he'd been moments before. "What in Gaia's name-"
"I'm sorry," She interrupts as she slumps forward into the hands on her arms, off-balance. "I should have tried better to understand, all those years ago. I understand now and I- Odysseus, I am-"
"Athena, shut up," Odysseus snaps, clearly panicking. She laughs again, because isn't it such a novelty, to have a person who will have the audacity to tell her to? "Of course it's forgiven, I'm sorry too, I should have fucking listened back then- but listen, what in Hades happened to you? Why do you look like this- why do you have bandages- Hermes wouldn't answer when I asked if something happened to you, fuck-"
"Peace," Athena rasps, even as her vision blinks in and out, forcing her to kneel. They both grimace as another wave crashes into the raft, but they don't upturn. Odysseus kneels down with her, staring at her with such worry and concern she can feel nothing but fondness. "The disagreements of gods are often violent."
"Gods-" His eyes flicker to the side of her face, and he frowns, reaching out to push back the helmet. She bends her face down to let him, feeling an odd burning on the left side that she has a vague bad feeling about- proved right when Odysseus' expression falls into blank horror. "You got into a fight with-"
"Yes."
"But he's your-"
"I know. He did not take kindly to my petition to release you," She smiles dryly, without mirth.
"To release me?" Odysseus wheezes, face cracking into anguish and disbelief alike. "Athena, what- I- I'm not worth-"
"It was worth it," She snaps. "Consider it my penance for abandoning my own. I certainly don't regret it."
"I never felt abandoned," Odysseus whispers, taking her hands as she shifts, supporting her body with his own as they lean against the mast. She looks at him, and remembers why Penelope is still weaving, why he's still out on the waters, why Ithaka is waiting out the suitors till Telemachus takes the throne. "I always knew you would come back. I just figured it would take ten years more, perhaps."
Athena is silent for a bit, absorbing that. And then, because she can't hold it back any longer- "I am sorry about your men." His breath hitches under her and she turns to take him in her arms, knowing what's coming. "I am sorry about your friends."
He sobs, ugly and loud, and she holds him tighter. "I am sorry that Titan's whelp had you for so long, and what she did to you. I am sorry the Fates were so unkind."
"Athena," He keens, finally falling to pieces. The sobs are mere loud gasps for air at first, before it dissolves into wailing, screaming, grieving for all the men they'd kept alive through a war, only to lose them to this cruel tragedy instead. Even she hadn't known- hadn't anticipated how wrong things would go after she left. Hadn't even thought that he hadn't reached home.
"It's all my fucking fault," He shouts, shaking. "If only I had- if only-"
"It is not. No one could have known," She whispers. "The Fates are unknown to us all."
He sobs louder and she closes her eyes.
But finally, their tears dry up. She holds him still, as the night fades and the sun rises again, trying to take his hurt into herself so he can be happy again.
"I am sorry," She whispers, seaspray around them. "That my enemies became your own. That I pushed you so hard. That I chose you, and brought pain to your life so."
"Hey now," Odysseus says, pulling back to look at her, a broken smile on his face. "Hold your blasphemous tongue, before you insult the wisdom of Pallas Athena." She laughs, even as tears spill over. "Even if I had the chance to choose again right at this moment, my goddess, I would still choose you."
"That means more than you know," Athena murmurs, overcome. She gathers all her strength and reaches out to run a hand over his head, soothing his mind and driving away the last tendrils of madness that were still holding onto him. He sighs and relaxes under her, some visible weight lifting from his shoulders. "Still. I will learn from my mistakes. If you would give your old friend a chance-"
"Stop right there. Of course I-" Odysseus scoffs, reaching out to hold her left cheek for emphasis. "Athena, your left eye is half gone."
"Ah. Well, that explains the depth perception," She mutters, then bursts into giggles at the incredulous look on his face.
"Are you drugged?" Odysseus demands, but he's already trying not to laugh himself. They both move on fast. "What am I saying, of course you are- have you been drugged this whole time? Who on Earth drugged you?"
"That would be me," Apollo says, crossing his arms.
Odysseus snarls, grabbing his sword and swinging wildly in an arc, half-animal in his panic, pushing Athena behind him.
"FUCKING- whoa, hey, calm down, it's her brother, it's Apollo!" Apollo half-shrieks inelegantly, jumping back. "Honestly! Athena, call off your hero, please."
"Apollo?" Odysseus tilts his head, lowering his sword and narrowing his eyes.
Apollo stares at him. "Wow, you two- really do act the exact same, huh. Yes, Apollo, god of please let me change your fucking bandages, do you mind?"
Odysseus bows and murmurs apologies, clearly wary of getting into more trouble, but to her mild surprise walks behind Athena instead of to the other side of the raft.
"I don't need assistance," She mutters to him, even as she grimaces at the length of the chiton as she tries to pull herself upright.
"You're still dizzy," Odysseus points out, settling in behind her to hold her steady. He wipes at the tears still on his face and smiles at her. She manages a half-smile back. "Do you need to go back to Olympus?"
"Yes," Artemis crosses her hands and Odysseus' fingers tighten painfully on her shoulders.
"I'm not quite certain there's space for so many on this raft," Athena mutters.
"It's a magical raft, it'll survive- but never mind that, could you not have at least sent a message that you were okay?"
"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before running off without a word!"
"Really, daughter, you should know better!"
Odysseus grip is bruising now, and his sword is in front of Athena protectively; she can already tell what moves he's planning to use if they choose to attack. "Who..?" He asks lowly.
"Pantheon. At ease," She replies back shortly, before looking up at the others. "I thank you, my fellow go- my family, for your worry and concern. But we are only two days out from Ithaka and I would like to see this journey completed."
"You are not going to see yourself completed, if you don't rest," Apollo says, roughly at the exact same time that Athena undermines her own argument by throwing up on the raft.
"Athena, go," Odysseus says urgently when it's over, handing her helmet back to her and adjusting her cape as Hera kneels down beside her to hand her another glass of nectar, looking at him oddly. Odysseus grimaces and changes his tone. "I will be fine, patroness. I'll call for you when I reach the shores."
Movement catches her eye and she sees Ares remove his own helmet, giving her a reproving look. She remembers the speech he was talking about now- the one she'd loudly ranted at him when she was drunk a year ago, thinks about how much more at ease he is now.
"Alright," She acquiesces and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. "Two days."
Mania fills Odysseus' eyes as he smiles back, finally home from a war twenty years ago. "Two days."
Athena grins, even as she feels Hera wrap an arm around her to take her away. "Penelope is waiting."
Odysseus' eyes widen, then fill with tears, like he'd never quite truly let himself believe it; but his smile is wide and true. "Penelope is waiting. Thank you, Pallas Athena."
"You don't thank friends," She murmurs, exhaustion settling in. Odysseus laughs and the last thing she feels is a warm hand on her cheek and their foreheads pressed together, before the world goes black and she knows no more.
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the case of the serial killer
3476 words (that was not suppose to happen lol - please send help)
ao3
Dick sat in front of his desk, eyes glazing over the same two lines for the nth time. He let out a tired sigh, and massaged his temples as he leaned back in his chair.
The Bludhaven Police Department had been investigating the recent serial killings for the past month and a half, with Dick heading the case. Not that it was anything too out of left feild for Dick, he handled plenty of cases like this during his long run as Robin and even in his more recent years as Nightwing. Finding the clues, and piecing together the perfect picture came second nature to him at this point.
The issue Dick was dealing with right now in fact had nothing to do with the case, instead it was something -or someone else. That someone, Danny No-Last-Name-For-You-Officer.
The first time Dick had run into him he was doing his rounds when he caught some kids getting into a fight. Naturally he stopped in and the kids that had been trying to start a fight ran away at the sight of his uniform and car. Danny had been a little roughed up by then, but mostly unharmed.
“Are you okay, kid?” Dick asked, kneeling to meet the kid eye-to-eye.
Danny had looked at him with a defiance he wasn’t used to seeing in someone that wasn’t a cape, “I didn’t do anything.” He said instead of responding, pulling himself up to his feet.
“Okay,” Dick nodded calmly, not wanting to frighten the kid. He stood up slowly, with his hands in view, “Are you hurt? I could patch you up, real quick, make sure nothing gets infected.” Danny wore ratty clothes, they had been nice once upon a time, but their time had long passed.
Danny eyed him suspiciously, “No, I’m fine.” He said more calmly now. Roughly around the age of 15 to 17. Older than Damian, but younger than Tim.
Taking his chance, “You got a name kid?”
“Danny.”
“No last name?” Dick asked with a knowing smirk, letting himself appear more playful.
“Not for you.” Danny gave him a mischievous smirk. Dick could tell the kid could clean up nice, but circumstances seemed unfortunate.
Dick laughed at his response, to let him know that he wasn’t in any hot water. Danny watched him, waiting for his next move. “You hungry, Danny?” Dick asked casually, trying not to stare at the way the hoodie he was wearing sagged on his shoulders.
“I’m a growing boy, I’m always hungry.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. Dick laughed again, more genuine this time.
“Alright, my treat. Let’s go.” Dick said, gesturing as he led the boy to his car.
“What?” He asked, surprised, Dick turned around to look at him when he didn’t follow. “Why?”
“You’re a growing boy.” Dick echoed. Danny snorted, but followed after him nonetheless. Dick put on the GPS on his phone, even though he knew the way as Danny sat in the passenger seat.
They spent the next hour together, falling into a steady rhythm of conversation and joking. After their first meeting, Danny and Dick ran into each other more. The grocery store, playground, library, school, so on. For the first 2 weeks it had been coincidental, but slowly Dick found himself looking forward to their random meetings, happy to see that the kid was doing alright.
That had been until the first murder had happened.
It had been raining, colder than the weather usually was around this time of year, the streets mostly empty. Dick had been doing his usual rounds on patrol, wondering how Danny was doing like he always did.
The world has a strange way of giving you what you want.
As Dick turned around the corner, he slammed his brakes hard at the figure who had been standing in the middle of the road. Dick got out of his car, leaving it on the side of the road when the person didn’t move. As he got closer dread filled Dick’s gutt as he made out the figure to be a cold, drenched Danny clenching his chest.
“Danny!” Dick called, rushing over to the boy. As Dick got closer he noticed the boy looked pale and his lips were turning blue.
“Dick.” Danny said hollowly, his voice barely audible over the loud rain. Danny turned to look at him with a shaken and horrified expression.
Dick held his shoulder firmly, leading him to the car and out of the rain. Danny allowed it without protest, which only caused Dick to worry more. “What happened?” He asked once the boy had huddled himself under the blanket Dick kept in his car (he had gotten it after the second time he met Danny during patrol, the boy always seemed cold).
Danny turned to him, “He’s dead.” He answered morbidly.
“Who?” Dick asked concerned, he didn’t think the boy had a father or brother present, at least not one that he had mentioned.
“I dunno. Just some guy.” No one he knew then.
“Danny, buddy. Can you explain what you saw.” Dick tried again.
Danny took a shaky breath, “I was just heading home, y’know, from the library. And I heard a scream, so I went to go check it out. And it was a guy just laying there in a pool of blood.” Danny looked down at his own hands, his fingers stained in red.
“Can you tell me where?”
“Around the corner, across from Susan’s.” Danny said quietly. He must have been really shaken up seeing it, it wasn’t exactly normal to see a bloodied body during your regularly scheduled activities.
Dick could go there later as Nightwing to investigate, but right now he had bigger things to deal with. “Alright, put your seatbelt on.” Dick said, putting the car in drive. Danny, not fully there, quietly did as Dick asked. At the next redlight, Dick called the Chief and let her know about the potential murder case and that he would be calling off for the night. He’d probably have to bring Danny in for his testimony, but that was later.
As the light turned green Dick looked over at his passenger again to find Danny already fast asleep, heater blaring in his face. Dick smiled softly at the sight as he drove them to his apartment.
After Dick parked his car he hesitated for a moment before deciding to wake Danny up so he could shower and maybe eat something. He could borrow some of Tim’s clothes.
“Hm.” Danny blinked barely at Dick, “We're are we?” He asked looking around at the parking garage.
“My place. C’mon lets get you cleaned up.” Dick unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car.
Danny blinked at him in surprise, “What? Why are we at your place?”
“Well considering I don’t know where you live, I had to take you somewhere.” Dick shrugged casually, letting the kid think Dick didn’t know he was homeless was better than him thinking Dick was pitying him. Danny would not appreciate pity.
Danny didn’t retort, a true sign of how weary he was.
Dick made a quick dinner. You can’t go wrong with pasta and air fried chicken. While the food finished cooking Dick busied himself in random mundane activities, not wantong Danny to find him looking over a case when he got out of the shower. Dick pulled out an old cookbook he’d gotten for his highschool graduation, a gag gift from Wally, when something between the pages fell out.
Picking it up Dick saw an old photo, one of him standing between his parents proudly after one of their performances. Sometimes Dick would feel a deep sadness when he looked at pictures of his parents and realized he had forgotten their faces, their mannerisms and their laughs. But this time, when Dick looked at the picture and saw his dad smiling at the camera next to his mom, he remembered Danny. It was strange how Danny had the same cowlick as his mom, same nose arch as his dad, a jawline that looked like his almost, before his larger muscle definition came into play. At the time that line of thought had been disturbed by Danny walking back into the living room and stubbing his tie on the foot of Dick’s sofa.
After that Dick had made sure they had each other’s numbers. He called Danny anytime the weather was bad, or it was cold, or there was too much food at his house or whatever random reason he could come up with.
After about a week of Dick calling Danny over, Danny came over on his own one night.
Dick was dressed in his Nightwing suit about to head out for the night when he heard the front door rattling. Realizing someone was trying to break into his apartment and knowing that it wasn’t his siblings (they would’ve used the window) Dick quickly threw his domino under his blanket and threw on the first pair of sweats he could find, just in time for the door to open. Slipping a small pocket knife into his hands, Dick positioned himself to get a good view of the living room where the trespasser still was.
Getting ready to get the jump on the trespasser Dick happened to get a good look at and noticed the familiar mop of black hair, and overfilled school bag by the door. Coming into view, letting his hands relax by his side, “Danny?” he breathed confused and relieved.
“‘Sup.” He nodded casually before noticing Dick’s appearance. “Your pants are backwards.” He commented candidly. Dick could feel himself flush in embarrassment, but that seemed to send the wrong impression on Danny, The younger boy leaned in to whisper to him, “You got a special friend over?” He raised an intrigued brow at Dick.
“What?” Dick spluttered “No.”
“Sad.” Danny shook his head in disappointment, making his way to the dining table and plopped his stuff on a chair and pulled out a few well-used notebooks. “The library closed early today, so I thought why not break into the local cop's place. I got a paper due tomorrow.” He explained half serious, half joking. “You don’t have to worry about me if you were about to head out somewhere.” How had he known?
“Uh, yeah I was just going-” Think, Dick. “-Get groceries.” Dick internally winced at the suspicious brow Danny gave him.
“At 10:30 PM?”
“Yes.” All that Bat training, and for what?
Danny blinked, “Cool.” he said dismissively, turning back to his homework.
Not looking a gift horse in the mouth Dick left his apartment stuffing his weapons into an old travel bag he had on hand and changing in the empty elevator.
When he got home from his patrol (earlier than he normally would’ve) remembering to buy the aforementioned groceries for some semblance of a cover story he found Danny fast asleep over scattered papers on the dining table. Putting away the perishables, Dick picked Danny up (who snuggled into his chest at the contact - yes, Dick was definitely completely okay after that) and laid him on the spare bed he kept on hand for his siblings.
The next few times Danny snuck into his house (Dick had offered him a key, but Danny had refused) things had gone similarly if not slightly more smoothly until the completely predictable and unavoidable happened.
Dick was halfway through his usual route as Nightwing, stopping a few muggings, and investigating the serial killer case some more. There were almost 9 different murders at this point with seemingly no similarities between the victims, other than the method of death. After going through the most recent crime scene Dick’s heard his phone go off. It surprised him slightly since he usually keeps it on silent, but he was alone so no harm no foul.
It was a message from Danny, it was probably a meme or funny video he had found. Dick could use a pick me up after another crime scene bust so he opened it. The message was not what he had been expecting.
Danno: sos?
Danno: im at ur place
Fearing the worst, Dick dialed his number. Danny hung up before the first ring, which did nothing for his nerves. Rushing in the direction of his apartment, not even bothering to do anything about the costume he was wearing, the worst scenarios rushed through Dick’s mind.
When his apartment was in view the first thing Dick noticed was the open window that he most certainly had not left open. Quietly slipping onto the fire escape Dick peered through to see the scene. The only light that was still on was the living room light, likely where Danny was, but Dick easily noticed the hulking figure in the kitchen. He was easily too tall, and too muscular to be Danny. The figure moved slightly and the shape of a gun could be seen in his hands.
Not wasting any time, Dick expertly slipped through the open window and tackled the figure to the floor, arm held at his back and escrima stick at his assailant's neck.
“What the fuck-” The figure said startled at Dick’s unexpected attack,
Now with a better view Dick was able to see the familiar red helmet and leather jacket the assailant wore, “Jason?” Dick asked, surprised.
“I thought we were past this. Y’know let bygones be bygones, or whatever.” Jason joked easily, wiggling his way out Dick’s slacking grip.
The situation finally unfolded in front of Dick. Danny had been in his apartment and Jason as Red Hood had also come to his apartment. Danny thought someone had broken in, and Jason also thought someone had broken in. Was Jason about to shoot Danny? Where was Danny?
Quickly getting up, and ignoring Jason’s earlier remark he walked through the kitchen and into the living room, “Danny?” He called, not wanting to scare the kid.
Jason gave him a confused look, but came to an understanding on his own when the familiar teenager peeped out from behind the couch holding a knife in his hands. His expression only became more shocked after he saw Dick, and it took Dick a second too long to remember that he was still wearing his Nightwing costume.
“Aw shit.”
Danny blinked at him, regaining his composure and pointing the knife at Jason, “Friend of yours?”
After all the explanations had been explained they all sat around the couch, a stack of empty pizza boxes between them.
“You saw me with a gun and you decided you could take me with a knife?” Jason scoffed at Danny, helmet left forgotten under the table.
“I could take you without the knife.” Danny rolled his eyes, taking the last slice of pizza.
“Big talk.” Jason puffed out his chest in some strange show of alpha male behavior.
“Are you askin’ for a fight?” Danny challenged.
Fearing the direction the conversation was taking Dick stepped in “Alright, you’re both pretty. Let’s break it up.”
That had just been last week.
Two days ago Dick had gotten a call from Danny. Danny usually didn’t call, preferring to text, but would usually answer when Dick called,
“Hey, Dickface.” Danny greeted snottily. Dick noticed he was out of breath.
“Hey, Danny. What’s up?”
“You got the night shift today?” Night Shift was what Danny had taken to calling his vigilant duties. There was a lot of movement on Danny’s end of the phone, but Danny was always moving around so Dick hadn’t thought it was weird.
“Yup. Whatcha’ up to?” Dick asked curiously, cleaning up his mess from dinner, leaving Danny’s portion in the fridge for later. The fridge was more stocked than it had been since Dick had moved in, he had purposely bought food that Danny would like, and the boy had finally begun filling out his skeleton.
“Oh y’know, cardio. Getting those steps in.” He let out a winded chuckle, “When you get the chance, check out the warehouse on 12th street later tonight. The one with the cracked pavement outside.”
“You got a lead?” Dick asked surprised, “From where?” He was suspicious, just curious.
“A friend of mine told me. Thought you should know.” There was a thud in the background, like something hit metal.
“You okay?” Dick asked concerned.
“Yeah, it was a cat.” He said easily, Danny let out a hiss of annoyance, “Gotta go, Later.” He hung up before Dick could say anything else.
Dick let out a tired sigh. The kid had grown on him like fungus. Though not entirely unappreciated, Dick was not ready to hear his siblings' inevitable comments on how he took after Bruce. Didn’t help that Danny happened to fit the profile.
The warehouse had given them a few clues, but they still weren’t any closer to finding the serial killer.
Danny hadn’t come by the apartment after that phone call. Or responded to any of Dick’s texts.
This morning when he was getting dressed he got a call from the precinct. It was still 30 minutes before his shift.
“Grayson, this is Officer Gomez, the Chief wants you in as earliest as you can get here,” Officer Gomez spoke urgently.
“I can be there in 15.” He reported, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his keys.
“Alright.” Gomez hung up.
As soon as he got in the doors the Chief was waiting for him by the entrance. “Took your sweet time, huh Grayson.” she chided.
“Dunno what you mean, Chief. I’m 15 minutes early.” He gave her a charming smile, and the Chief rolled her eyes.
“There’s been a development in your case.” The Chief started as they walked together, Dick nodded at her in acknowledgement. But the Chief hesitated, before speaking again. That was unlike her. “There was another murder victim found, in the east district. Our night crew got an alert.”
Most of the victims had been in the west district, based on the location south may have been a more appropriate transition. It could be a coincidence or it meant the killer had a personal vendetta against these people, or maybe just the victim from the east district. It felt like all the pieces Dick had managed to put together were falling apart again.
“Our latest victim was a male, caucasian potential of mixed descent, age estimated around 15 to 17,” that was younger than the other had been, “black hair, blue eyes, roughly 5’ 5”.” The chief turned to look at him now, “goes to Westwood High School, prefers juice to soft drinks, always feels cold to touch,”
Dick looked at Chief in confusion, these were incredibly specific descriptions, and they sounded awfully familiar.
She continued, “He lets his hot chocolate get cold before he drinks it,” Danny had done that once when Dick had brought him in for his testimony. “And he plucks the marshmallows out of it with a fork, and called it a snowman.”
No.
“You keep extra snacks for him in the glove box of your car even though it’s against protocol,”
No,
Dick hands were clammy when he pulled out his phone from his pocket. Personal use of devices was strictly against the rules. Chief said nothing. Dick found Danny’s contact easily in his recents tab. He held it up to his ear waiting for the kid on the other side to answer with his usual “What can I do ya’ for officer.” or some iteration of the classic “Hey, Dickface.”
It went to voicemail.
Danny always answered his phone, and when he didn’t he would text Dick a reason within the next five minutes. So he waited.
It had been 10 minutes already. Why wasn’t he responding?
Dick called him again. Voicemail.
Nononono. Not again.
How was it that Dick was always too slow.
Too slow to save his parents.
Too slow to get to Jason in time.
And now too slow to solve this case.
Dick Grayson was a failure in every way that mattered.
He looked at the familiar body ready to be put into an ice chamber for further examination in the morgue.
“Go home for the day, Grayson.”
Go home and do what?
Danny’s notes were still sprawled over the coffee table. He said he had a test next week. Danny’s food was still in the fridge. His bed was still a mess, and his clothes were on the floor.
“Give me the case files. I’ll look over them again.” He didn’t recognize his voice when he spoke, he wasn’t even sure it was his. Chief didn’t argue, handing over the files.
The day had gone by and Dick was still stuck in front of his double monitor desk, pictures and words blurring together in nonsensical smudges on the screen.
“Grayson.” Chief called him. Dick looked up, catching a glimpse of the dark night sky from the glass doors. How long had he been here?
“Yeah?” He responded dryly.
“Head home.”
Dick wasn’t sure when he had gotten to the front of his apartment, only realizing he had when the keys jiggled loudly missing the keyhole on the door.
When he got inside he found Jason sitting casually on the couch, reading a book. “Oh Honey, you’re home.” He joked.
Dick couldn’t find it in himself to laugh.
Danny’s papers flew from the wind of the open window. Dick closed it. When he didn’t pick up the papers, Jason bent down to do it. “Anyways, where’s the kid? Didn’t you want me to help him with his homework or someshit. I need to beat it into his head that I’m better at him.” Jason said the last part loudly, letting it echo through the house in case Danny was hiding in its crevices.
Dick turned to him, Jason looked back at him for a long moment before the mischievous look slipped from his eyes. “Dick, where’s the kid?”
There was a deafening silence in the apartment.
“He’s dead.” The table under Jason’s hands let out a loud crunch, as his face darkened.
Before Jason could breathe an air of the threat of murder that was definitely ready to roll from his tongue, there was a quiet clatter in the kitchen.
“Who’s dead?” Danny asked, appearing in the living room with a large bowl of cereal he was shoveling into his mouth.
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