Interwoven With You Chapter 2
Pairing: Roy Harper/Wally West/Dick Grayson Rating: T Part 1 Based on this Comic AO3
Flash gently lowers Timothy to the ground, tucking his self proclaimed ‘knock-out cloth’ back into its pouch. The fresh spring breeze is pleasant on his skin, reducing the fuzzy warmness brought with too much blood rushing to one’s head too quickly. Arsenal raises a brow, hands on his knees as he tries to steady his breath.
“What the hell do you even put on that thing?” He rises, and collects his bow from where it had landed on the loam. “Just a couple herbs that you definitely shouldn’t be exposed to for too long.” Flash replies, nudging the unconscious prince with the toe of his boot. “So uh, what do you do with him? He’s gonna be out for an hour minimum. Probably longer given how small he is.”
“We leave him. The guards will find him.” Arsenal shrugs, already scanning the forest for their next move. The col they’re in has a dead end to the northwest, which is unfortunately the direction they’d been headed, leaving the only way forward south. “Ro- Arsenal we can’t just leave him here. What if someone hurts him?” Flash grabs Arsenal’s arm, pulling him back.
“And what are we gonna do Flash? Take him with us? We’d be lucky if all they did was kill us.” Arsenal jerks his arm back, but his shoulders slump at the hurt look on his friend’s face. He scrubs a hand through unruly red hair, pushing it back from his face.
“Look. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but there’s nothing we can do for him. There are guards everywhere, they know he followed us, and are probably headed here right now. He won’t be alone for long.” Arsenal rests his hands on Flash’s shoulders, stoic, but not unkind. Flash props the prince against the tree, arranging his clothes, using the boy’s cape to cover him like a blanket. He tugs the chain around his neck so the signet ring attached hangs atop his clothes. Anyone unsavory would likely prefer the reward of returning him than the Gotham guard chasing them to the ends of the Earth. Arsenal hadn’t noticed it, but he’d wager Flash had caught a glimpse sometime during their fall. He’s ignored by his companion for nearly an hour, and didn’t try to broach the subject. They’d known each other long enough that neither of them liked talking when they were angry. Too many caustic words had been volleyed between the two, and too much time was spent after wishing they’d never been said at all.
“Hey.” Flash strolls next to his friend, head tilted up. “Do you ever wonder what it’d be like? To stop running?” Flash stops walking when Arsenal freezes mid step, turning to face him for the first time since their disagreement. “What do you mean?” His fingers tighten on his bow, back stiff. “I mean, not having to worry about what’s around every corner. Not wondering where we’re wanted, or if we’ll be turned in. Just living, you and me.” He was pensive, and more melancholy than he normally allowed anyone else to see. “That’s not the kind of life people like us get to have.” He speaks low, and firm. He couldn’t even entertain the idea. He didn’t have the strength. “You know that.” “ Yeah, yeah I know. Just a stupid thought.” Flash laughs, sharp and bittersweet, dissipating the heavy air that had settled.
“You’re still a jerk though” Flash, in a burst of playfulness shoves his shoulder, Arsenal lets it push him a few steps back, expecting to brace himself on jagged stone, only for his ankle to catch on a protruding root sending him stumbling back into a thick wall of vines. “Woah” He lands in lush moss, which carpets the floor of the newly discovered hidden path. “Well well well, seems like this jerk just found a place for us to lay low till the guards give up and go home.” Arsenal grins, holding the leaves back for Flash to follow. The temperature drops and the sound of rushing water grows louder the further they walk. The small cave lets out in a huge clearing, with a top heavy stone spire stretching towards the clear blue sky. There’s an open window near the top. The whole area is surrounded by sheer mountain cliffs interrupted only by a thin waterfall that crashes into a meandering stream. “Score! Wonder if there’s any food up there?” Flash grinned, jogging up to and around the tower, hand brushing over the overgrown walled up doorway. “This was done years ago, it’s definitely abandoned.” He starts to scale the wall when Arsenal stops him by grabbing his satchel’s strap.
“Slow down Flash. It’s probably abandoned, but we’re not the only people who can scale a building like this. Be careful, I’ll sweep the area.” Arsenal turns, sneaking off into the trees, hand resting on his quiver.
Flash snorts, rolling his eyes. “Paranoid.” He says, loud enough for Arsenal to hear, smirking at the distant sarcastic response and begins to climb. It’s surprisingly easy for someone like Flash-- who has quick hands, nimble feet, and a knack for finding the quickest way to do anything. He reaches the top within a few moments, hoisting himself through the open window. He pauses as his eyes adjust to the dark, gaze skating across the weapons displayed in neat, organized sections, the garish colors covering the walls, and the strange deep blue cords stretching across the room.
“Shit, he was right.” Flash mutters to himself, stepping back to shout out the window and warn Arsenal. A shadow moves in the corner of his vision and a heavy object from above whacks him into unconsciousness.
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Dick lets out a slow, measured breath, trying to calm the adrenaline pumping through him. He looks between Robin and the body. Clutching his escrima sticks tightly. “I knocked him out…” Joy buoys through the panic as he cheers, his bird chirping happily with him. “I knocked him out!” He sets his escrima sticks aside, Robin squeezing into the fallen satchel, hopping out with some papers in his beak. Dick takes them carefully, petting the little green bird. “Looks like we bagged ourselves a wanted criminal Robin.” Dick glances at the unconscious man, before looking at the posters in hand.
“But where’s your friend hm?” He muses softly, tucking the posters under his star maps, he needed proof, but showing him Flash seemed too risky. For both of them.. He brushes the man’s brilliantly red hair aside to look at his freckled face.
“Oh…” Dick’s breath hitches as he’s graced with a much more handsome face than he’d anticipated. “You don’t look like your poster, do you Flash?” He mutters, just as Flash’s eyes snap open, pushing himself up in the next second. Dick reacts instinctively, grabbing his head and bashing it back into the floor, making him limp again.
“I really hope I didn’t give you brain damage.” Dick hefts Flash’s limp body over his shoulders. “Though I could probably heal you, couldn’t I?” He crosses the patterned floor to open his wardrobe, setting Flash on the floor of it, tucking his arms against his chest and tying them together with a scarf.
“Be quiet now, it wouldn’t do either of us any good if my father actually found you here. I don’t think he’d kill you, but he’s never been reasonable about anything involving my safety.” He ruffles Flash’s curly hair, before blushing, pulling away and shutting the door, locking it with a small key. He couldn’t bar the door, Father would notice. He just had to hope Flash wouldn’t make any noise either.
“Don’t get attached Dick. This is exactly why Father doesn’t think you can survive out there.” He goes back to the satchel, taking it to the one hiding place Dick is sure his Father doesn’t know about, a loose brick in the wall beside his bed, too high for anyone else to notice. He pulls out a glittery crown, turning it over in his hands, the gemstones are clear and well cut, gorgeously filtering light into a twisting kaleidoscope of dancing colors. It seems old, but very well maintained. He retrieves a hand mirror, some unidentifiable feeling swelling in his chest as he stares at his reflection. He wants to scream; to cry, he wants someone he doesn’t know, someone he can’t remember. He can’t name the feeling at all. He places the crown on his head, something clicking into place just out of reach. A small hand in his, a crooked smile. A steading presence at his side, safety incarnate. An aged, prim voice reading a story. He stares at himself, leaning closer until the moment is broken by Slade’s gruff voice calling up. He tries to remember what he’d been thinking of, but the thoughts slip away like grains of sand in careless hands. He replaces the crown in the satchel, carefully putting the stone brick back in place, before rushing to throw his hair from the balcony.
They don’t speak until his father is standing in their small kitchen, a basket of fresh ingredients hanging from his arm. Dick tilts his head, feeling wrong footed and uneasy and altogether unwilling to be the one starting the conversation. “I’ve brought things for rabbit and Andouille stew. Your favorite.” His father sounds almost sheepish, and Dick recognizes the peace offering for what it is, only nodding as father ventures into their little kitchen.
“Father, I was thinking over our conversation earlier-” Dick begins, carefully edging towards the hidden wanted posters.
“I thought I made myself perfectly clear. There is nothing more to say.” Father doesn’t turn, just cuts through vegetables with a horribly sharp knife. “Well, it’s just that you’re always saying I’m too weak to survive on my own, but I really think that if we went together-”
“Richard.” His father’s voice cracks like a whip, stabbing the knife into the cutting board rather than yelling, stalking towards him. He seizes Dick’s face before he can successfully scramble away, making him lurch forward with a steel grip. Dick can smell the fresh herbs and vegetables as his breath became shallow and he shook in Slade’s grasp.
“You will cease this. You are never leaving with or without me. Do I need to reteach your lesson from this morning?” Slade never screams, but Dick wished he would instead of the contained brutality coiled and ready to strike at the first hint of defiance. Slade had taught him that men who yell, make themselves big and loud, rarely attack.
“I understand. I’m sorry Dad. I’m sorry, I won’t mention it again.” Dick folds, the only thing he can really do, murky sadness and disbelief heavy on his back. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He whispers, pressing his face into his Father’s hand the moment it releases the deathgrip on his jaw. Slade frowns, but pulls him into the second hug of the day, threading battleworn fingers through his hair.
“I hate having to correct you little bird. I wish you wouldn’t make me” Father lets Dick cling to him for much longer than normal, a solid encompassing embrace that lasts until Dick can finally will himself to step back. Dick doesn’t apologize again, but he does sit next to his Father as he cooks. There’s a peace in the rhythmic chopping, in the fragrant spices filling the room. “I know what I want for my birthday.” He says, subdued, Father only glancing at him, but Dick knows he’s listening. Slade was always listening to him. “I need new aerial silks, the nice ones you brought when I turned 15.” Dick shifts to the table as Father pours the stew into wooden bowls. “That’s a long journey, little bird. After your stunt today I’ll have to lock the windows. You won’t have much sunlight for a week.” His Father hands him a bowl of stew, sitting across the table.
“I understand, Dad, but I do need new ones. Mine are fraying in some spots. I figured it was a better idea than, you know.” Dick eats the stew. It’s delicious. They exchange idle small talk, neither of them straying from safe topics. When Father leaves, he ties a rope to the hook, as he only does for trips like this.
“Do you have enough food?” his father looks him over, fishing out a small tin when Dick nods. “For your bruises.” Father says as he presses it into Dick’s hand, leaving him staring in surprise as he leans back using the rope, closing the thick wooden doors of the window, placing two bars on their hooks, and linking the middle section with a heavy padlock. Slade never yells, but Dick wishes that he would.
Dick spends a solid minute meticulously arranging his hair and snuffing out all the oil lamps before hesitantly unlocking the doors of the wardrobe. He doesn’t open them, instead swings himself high up into the rafters, and sinks into familiar shadows. There’s no movement from the wardrobe for longer than Dick expected, but eventually the door creaked open, Flash peeking out, cautiously examining the area.
He tries to step around the arranged hair, attempting to avoid it, but all Dick needs to do is leap down, bearing his weight down upon the right strand, and Flash is hanging in the air by his torso, arms bound tightly to his sides and feet barely grazing the floor.
“Now I’m not entirely sure I want the answer, but is this hair?” Flash toes the floor to spin around and get a good look at his assailant. Dick pulls one of his father’s swords from the wall, pointing it to Flash’s throat.
“How did you find me?” He tries to emulate his father’s imposing glare as he steps into the sparse sunlight from the upper windows, but Flash’s jaw just drops open in shock.
“Well, my finest sir, I think it must have been the fates that guided me here” Flash puts on a strange tone of voice that Dick doesn’t really understand, and as such elects to ignore it entirely.
“Answer me, Flash. Before I turn in your bounty. What were you told? Who else knows?” Dick hopes it’s just the one other guy, because someone needs to let them out, but any more than that and Dick might lose.
“Hey, calm down gorgeous. I don’t know who you are, I’m just passing through. I wasn’t looking for you.” Flash drops the odd expression, adopting a more genuine one. Earnestness, at least, Dick can recognize.
“Then why are you here?” Dick lowers the sword, stepping back.
“Well y’see I have this-“ Flash’s eyes go wide “oh no, oh god-“ flash looks around the room “hey gorgeous, you wouldn't happen to know where my satchel ended up, would you?” He flips from earnest to beseeching like a switch gone off
“Of course I did, I’m the one that hid it.” Dick rolls his eyes, gauging Flash’s sincerity. The wiry man wore his feelings on his sleeve, and there was no better way to see who someone is than to not give them what they want.
“That’s great!” His relief is palpable. You can just give it back and I’ll be out of your hair, literally.” He laughs at his joke, it’s frustratingly cute. He sets the sword down and crosses his arms. Flash doesn’t seem the harmful sort and Dick figures himself to have been the type to be good at reading people, back when he actually saw any. Still, life favors the cautious. “I don’t think so. Do you actually expect me to believe you weren’t here for me? That you just happened to end up here? Then why climb the tower in the middle of the day? You clearly didn’t need shelter.” Dick tilts his head, slinking back through the shadows so he’s always in the corner of Flash’s peripheral vision. Flash spins himself clockwise trying to keep up. “Would you believe me if I said yes?” Flash tries to turn enough to give Dick a lopsided grin, but Dick just tugs a tress taught, causing him to whirl in a tight circle as the hair holding him up untwists rapidly. “No, I wouldn’t.” Dick grabs Flash by the hair, to keep him still. “Not unless you have a better excuse than ‘just passing through’.” “Woah, uh.” Flash takes a quavering breath “There goes my back up plan-” Flash yelps when the grip on his hair tightens “Okay, listen I was just trying to find a place to lay low, and a window that high up with no other entrances? It’s an appealing hiding place. I don’t even know your name, let alone why anyone would be after you.” Dick releases his grip, turning Flash to face him. “Dick.”
“Excuse me?” Flash gives him an incredulous expression, and Dick can’t help but laugh.
“My name. It’s Dick. Why are you laying low?” Dick steps fluidly back, distinctly amused. Flash relaxes in kind.
“You really know how to scare a guy, huh? I’m Flash. I’d shake your hand, but, well…” He shrugs his shoulders, his disposition disarming despite his predicament “I was laying low due to some complications. The kind that chase you through the forest and make hiding in a secluded tower for the night seem like a really good idea.”
“And the satchel?”
“Now that” Flash perks up noticeably at the mention of his prize. “Is very important, gorgeous, probably the most important thing I own. Which is why I’d really like it if you gave it back.”
“Why’s it so important?” Dick schooled his expression to be more curious, the less Flash thinks he knows, the more likely Dick can catch him in a lie.
“I’ll happily explain if you just let me down?” Flash is eager, but Dick cannot tell if it is to gain his trust or betray what little is given.
“You’re fine where you are.” Dick responds flatly, moving to the locked window to arrange his hair carefully.
“You drive a hard bargain gorgeous.” Flash gives a half hearted glare “It’s jewelry, very expensive jewelry that I’m going to sell. It’s basically all I’ve got right now. You wouldn’t take that from your new friend, would you?”
“We’re not friends.” Dick is taken aback by the sudden turn, but at least he hadn’t been lied to.
“That’s a shame.” Flash’s face takes on a kinder aspect. “You seem like you could use one.”
“You don’t know anything about me, Flash.” Dick glances up at Robin chirping rhythmically in one of the narrow windows. Someone’s here, but not his Father.
“True, but I’ve got eyes, gorgeous, and ears. I overheard that conversation with your, uh, your dad earlier.” Flash admitted. “You’ve got a lot going on, and you don’t get a lot of say in it.”
“You heard us?” Dick’s jaw tightened, going over the conversation in his mind again.
“Just bits and pieces, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t exactly leave the room could I?” Flash’s gaze is too understanding, too open. “I get it, you’re expected to be what he wants, to do as you’re told, and give up what you want just because he says so”
Dick turns away, arranging his hair by the locked window. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t.
“I know what it’s like, having someone make your choices for you. It’s suffocating no matter how well meaning they are.” Flash presses on.
“You don’t know anything about my life.” Dick finishes his set up, and makes his way back to Flash.
“No, I don’t.” Flash agrees easily. “But I can guess, and I’m willing to wager that you’ve spent a lot of time looking out that window. Wanting to see what it’s like. I can show you, Dick.” “You…” Dick hesitates, hair in hand. “You would do that?”
Whatever reply Flash would have had is cut off by Robin flying down with a sharp trill. Dick loops his hair into a makeshift gag, and twists up into the rafters seamlessly blending into the darkness. Flash stares bewildered at the surreal disappearance until he hears the quiet sound of a lock click open, and the window doors open.
Flash watches helplessly as Arsenal creeps in, arrow notched. Arsenal scans the area with a calculating gaze, but doesn’t see anyone in the room except Flash. Still tense he starts to rush to his friend.
“You are a complete and utter idiot W-” An escrima stick knocks the bow from his hand at the same moment Arsenal is yoinked from the ground by his ankle to a chorus of swears as Dick lands on the ground, much the same as he had done with Flash. Dick removes the hair over Flash’s mouth at least.
“I- Flash is this hair?” Are the first words out of Arsenal’s mouth as he stares at his partner across the room. “Why Flash, you didn’t mention your friend would be joining us.” Dick crouches in front of the hanging man, snatching his forearms and binding them together with a strip of fabric. He doesn’t let go. “Now why do you think that is, Arsenal?” The room feels much colder as Flash struggles against the binds.
“Why do I think what? Arsenal asks placidly, only trying once to pull his arms out of Dick’s hold. “That Flash didn’t announce he had a partner? Maybe ‘cause you tied him up, hm?” “Dude, you are so not helping” Flash groans, fidgeting, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. “You think you’re clever? You’re lucky that I found him, and not my father” Dick draws Arsenal forward, diagonal and hanging from his ankles. “He wouldn’t have hesitated before slitting your throat.” Dick says coolly. Arsenal’s snide sneer drops as he goes still. “Noted.” “Dick, we were running for the same reason, I swear-” Flash starts his defense, but Dick simply holds a reprimanding finger up to quiet him.
“And that will be very clear once Arsenal tells me why he’s here. If it’s the same reason as yours, I might even let you go.” Dick stays crouched, obscuring Flash’s ability to see Arsenal’s face, or signal for him to be honest. “You’re a terrible host.” Arsenal mutters, glaring up as his thoughts get cottony from hanging upside down so long. “We were running from some people. Needed a place to hole up till the trail goes cold.”
“Running from who?” Dick is statuesque, not moving an inch outside of speaking, eyes eerily bright in the afternoon light. Arsenal weighs his options.
“I don’t know their names, but they wanted something we had.” He answers begrudgingly, a half-truth. “Is that good enough?” He doesn’t say ‘asshole’, but Flash hears it in his tone all the same.
“That crown is important to you, isn’t it?” Dick hums, all too casually. “What if I don’t give it back?”
“Look, at this point, I don’t care as long as we get to leave.” Arsenal grits out with barely concealed exhaustion. Flash couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Dick, please, he’s not gonna hurt you. He uses the bow for utility way more than as a weapon. He’ll help you see the world too.” Flash implores him, hating that he can’t see their faces, but hopes it was enough to get Arsenal to understand that Dick’s intentions were above all else defensive.
“Hey, anything that means I can actually be on my feet again” Arsenal drops his glare into a more good natured ease. “I came here to collect my idiot, if you let me take him home, you’ll have no trouble with me.” Dick silently stands and Arsenal suddenly finds himself dumped on the ground in a graceless heap, irritation smoothing when he looks up to see Dick helping Flash down, catching him easily. “You’ll help me?” Dick asks, so softly that Arsenal can barely hear it, but it soothes some of the indignancy all the same.
“Course, Arsenal and I are great at favors, right?” Flash leans over to glare at Arsenal. Don’t argue with me
“Yeah, sure, whatever” He groans, rolling onto his back until his head stops spinning. Wasn’t planning on it.
“Okay.” Dick breaths out, almost disbelieving, and Arsenal can only stare dumbfounded as the creepy, unfeeling man melts away into a brightly smiling ray of sunshine “Okay! I’m gonna leave. I-” He looks between them, practically vibrating with a contagious energy.
“We need supplies right?” Dick’s excitement spills over as he bounds over to his charts, pulling out the wanted posters and subtly tucking them into his vest. “One moment!” He leaps into the rafters, slipping into his bedroom, kicking the door shut. He slips into a more durable shirt- one that looks more complicated than it is. Before climbing up to put the posters in his hidden spot. They seem like a good thing to have on hand if he needs them later. He exits his room, leaving the door open. “Oh, I should probably tell you where I wanna go-” Dick is back down next to them, and Arsenal has never seen a man change elevation so frequently and with so many flourishes in his life. His eyes shine like the sky on a clear day.
“That would be helpful sunshine.” Arsenal intones dryly, exchanging a bemused glance with Flash, who looks far too pleased with himself “Every year, at the start of spring, there are floating lights in the sky, from here” He taps the map as they approach. “I want to see them. Can you take me?” Arsenal takes one look at the map and- “You want us to take you to Central Gotham? Sorry Sunshine, but that’s exactly the place we don’t wanna be.” Arsenal shakes his head, but Dick doesn’t seem deterred. “Please. I have to see them, it’s-” He looks down at them, bitterness evident in his gaze “It’s all I’ve wanted for so long now” “Ah, I’m sure it’ll be fine, right A?” Flash nudges him in the side, giving a pleading look.
“Flash, if it were anywhere else it’d be fine, but the festival is in three days. That’s too soon for us to be back there.” Arsenal resolutely avoids the kicked puppy look Flash is giving him.
“I’ll give back your satchel, if you take me.” Dick’s resolve is steely, an unyielding stubbornness set into the lines of his body. Arsenal glares between the two of them, willing either of them to back down. Sure, during the festival there’d be so many people they’d be fine as long as a particularly dedicated or familiar guard didn’t see them. However, he couldn’t stand to abandon the crown, not just because of the money, but hell that was a monument to someone’s lost kid. Roy could justify selling it back to the kingdom easily enough, but letting it go missing? It was a tender sentiment that should hold no weight to Arsenal. Unfortunately, it held a lot of weight to Roy.
“Fine. What are your terms?” Arsenal keeps the tenderness from his voice, all business. He ignores Flash’s loud cheer. “I want you to bring me to the lights- lanterns you said?- then back home. Keep me safe, and I return the crown to you. We have to be back in 5 days maximum.” Dick explains as he flits around the tower, slinging a handmade bag around his waist, filling it with things he’d need and all the little things he’d been hiding for the past 8 years. Coins, birdseed, a light blanket, lockpicks, escrima sticks, food that could travel well, his notebook, and any light tools that might come in handy.
“Why five days?” Arsenal watched him curiously, keeping an eye out for Flash’s satchel which he never saw.
“My father gets back in a week.” Dick does several flips to end up in front of Arsenal, chest heaving, beauty dazzling. His hair is a dark shade of blue, but up close Arsenal could see lighter aquamarine strands.
“What’s the deal with your dad anyway?” Arsenal checked his own things, if they were going back to Gotham he needed to prepare.
“Complicated.” Dick echoed their earlier explanations. “He just wants me to be safe.”
“Awful aggressive way of showing it.” Flash quipped, examining Dick’s basket of crochet projects, picking up a little bat “these are cute”
Dick takes the redirect “Thanks. You can keep it, if you want. I’ve made hundreds” Dick hands him a little Robin as well.
“Seriously? That’s a lot of bats.” Flash whistles, and tucks the plush into his side pouch.
“I like bats.” Dick whistles a short tune, and Robin flies down to land on his shoulder, feathers puffed and angry at the new people. “And birds” Dick rubs the bird's head with his finger. It preens. Arsenal rifles through the tools and weapons. He pulls out a few arrows.
“Hey sunshine, mind if I borrow these?” He holds them up. Dick chews in his bottom lip, shifting from one foot to the other.
“That might not be the best idea.” Nervousness prevails over excitement for just long enough to be noticed. Arsenal frowns at his reaction, a theory bubbling to the surface that he finds incredibly distasteful. “Well, I’ve got everything I need. Are you two ready?” At the dual nods, Arsenal heads to the window, using the rope to repel down. Flash steps up next to Dick, who has stopped at the threshold, staring out at the only piece of the outside world he could remember.
“Hey.” Flash prompts softly “you’ve been wanting this a long time, huh?”
“Longer than you can even imagine. I… I can’t remember ever being anywhere but here.”
Flash carefully wraps an arm around him.“We'll get you there. I promise, I know A seems rough but he’s trying to keep us safe.”
Dick leans into the contact, eyes fluttering shut. Flash is warm, lithe, and comfortable. Nothing at all like the bulky unfeeling hardness of his father’s armor.
“Thank you.” He whispers, pulling away just enough to see Flash’s face, a bout of mischief in his eyes. “Wanna take the fun way down?”
"I have no idea what you mean by that, but the answer is yes regardless.” Flash lets Dick move his arms so that he’s tucked against Dick’s side
“Hold on.” Dick gives him a feral grin, and hauls them both out of the tower, hair unfurling to float them down.
“I can’t believe I’m alive.” Flash falters when they hit the ground, looking back when Dick doesn’t respond. He seems awed, mouth dropped open.
The moss was a lush carpet beneath his feet, the distant blur of green he’d stared at from his window looked so different now. There were dashes of colorful wild flowers weaved between the swaths of green. He walked up to the nearest tree, tracing the contours of the bark, then laying his hand on the rough surface.
“It feels alive” Dick looks up at the clusters of tender new leaves on young branches, edges still curled. They were so delicate in his fingers. The air was richer, scented with soil, flowers, and a dewy green petrichor. He inhaled, closing his eyes, the unfamiliar fragrance was near intoxicating. His head swiveled around, eyes snapping open to see a flock of birds darting across the canopy with a scattered chorus. He spun around to follow their path, joy so fervent it permeated the wind dancing around him. He could hear all the sounds too delicate to make it to his tower, the rustling leaves, the quiet chirping insects, the stream gurgling just nearby, whispers of life in everything he saw. He’s so busy taking everything in that he bumps into Flash trying to follow the path of a sunset orange butterfly.
“Woah there gorgeous, you okay?” Flash steadies him, seeming unbothered.
“Yeah, I just- there’s so much more here than I realized. It’s dynamic, living and changing every second.” He looks up at Flash. “You know?”
Flash reaches down to pluck a purple flower, admiring it. “I haven’t really thought about it that way I don’t think. You’re really renewing my appreciation of it.” He tucks a\the violet behind Dick’s ear “You look like you belong here, a part of the forest.”
“Alright, that’s enough poetry and admiration, we’re on a timeline.” Arsenal claps his hands together to get their attention, walking between them, nudging Flash away with a raised brow. Dick nods, and follows, but lags behind his guides to stop and inspect new fascinations. Flash keeps pace with Arsenal.
“You don’t have to be so impatient; this is a big deal for him.” Flash scowls. “You’re getting pretty cozy, don’t you think?” Arsenal’s focus is gaze dead set on the worn path ahead, scanning the trees for the gleam of steel.
“You got a problem with that?”
“Not if you don’t make it my problem.” Arsenal checks over his shoulder to ensure that Dick is keeping up, and minding his own business. He seems thoroughly distracted.
Arsenal leans in to whisper “I’m going to stress test him. I know you want to help him, and I do too. But I need to know he’s not going to panic and get us caught or killed if he gets spooked.” Flash looks conflicted, “That’s kind of messed up dude.” but he’s making the face that means he knows Arsenal is right, and hates that fact.
“Look, it’s as much for his safety as it is for ours. Just see how he reacts to a rough crowd, and if he can’t handle it we take him home no worse for wear.” Arsenal holds a branch aside for Flash to pass, waiting for Dick to catch up as well. He seems more thoughtful than before, his earlier enthusiasm muted.
“You alright there sunshine?” Arsenal nudges Dick with his elbow.
“I’m fine, just…” Dick trails off, worry creasing his brow.
“Just?” Flash prompts.
“Am I a terrible person? I lied to my father, he’s going to be…” he gestures vaguely “Upset, or worried, or hurt.” Dick spreads his arms indicating the nature around them “This is all so beautiful, I’m so happy I get to see it. I feel like I’m finding a piece of me that was missing, but will it be worth the cost? His trust?”
“Having second thoughts? We can bring you home, if that’s what you want.” Arsenal resolutely ignores the exasperation from Flash.
“No!” Dick’s sudden intensity startles even himself.“I’m going to see those lanterns. I have to.”
Arsenal raises his hands in surrender. “Alright alright.” he hears the rustling of small game in the bushes, and his hand drifts habitually to his quiver before reminding himself that they’re not wanting for food. Dick notices the movement though, minute as it was, and draws his escrima sticks, tense and prepared. A rabbit bounds out and away from the underbrush, Dick slumps.
“Careful, that was a close call there.” Arsenal comments dryly, ignoring the bony jabs to his rib from Flash.
“Sorry, sorry, I guess I’m a little jumpy.” He says sheepishly. Arsenal only nods, tuning out Flash’s reassurances. He meanders along the path, letting Dick fixate on whatever catches his interest, until the inevitable occurs.
“Do we have any jerky left?” Flash jogs up to the archer’s side.
“I don’t think so, no. Why, you hungry?” He asks nonchalantly.
“Dude, always.” Flash confirms, before realizing that he stepped right into Arsenal’s trap at the same moment he sees the worn sign of The Robin’s Nest. “Wait…”
Dick pops up between them, looking up at Flash with wide guileless eyes “For what?”
“What? Oh no, I was just gonna ask Arsenal if he wants to go to a different tavern.”
Arsenal hides his smirk behind his hand until he can control his expression, it’s always fun to trick Flash into speaking faster than he thinks. “Nah, there’s not a lot of places around here, and Dick’s first meal outside should be a good one, don’t you agree?”
Before Flash can respond, Dick reads the sign, giving Flash a sweet, if a bit hesitant, smile “Well, I do like Robins!" And Arsenal knows he’s won.
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The forest was dense, shadows smothering weak rays of sunlight. Slade moved north with the precision of a learned hunter, heavy boots making little sound as he traversed the uneven terrain. He wanted this journey to be as short as possible, which had led to him scaling the cliff to reach the upper path. He is unable to quell the paranoia that gnawed at him after leaving his little bird so soon after an argument. The careful scale of control and affection needed to be rebalanced, and as much as Slade would have preferred to do that without leaving, he knew denying his boy the compromise he’s come up with would only damage his trust in Slade further.
The tang of newly dampened rotting wood permeated this section of the forest, and the undergrowth clawed at him, as though telling him to go back. Slade, already on high alert, heard the distant murmur of conversation in spite of their meager efforts to keep their voices low. Slade uses climbing picks to lower himself onto a ledge disguised from the above by a root infested overhang. The distinct clangor of armor joined the voices as the group above passed overhead of Slade’s hiding place. Their conversation was indistinct, but one thing was clear: Gotham was searching for someone in the forest. He could scarcely force himself to maintain his cover long enough to be sure the guards couldn’t possibly see his mad dash home. He recklessly descends into the cold, in such a rush he almost misses an incongruent splash of yellow among the trees. Slade crept close, finding a boy laid out on his back, covered by a cloak with a ring on a delicate chain hanging from his thin neck. His clothes, despite being thoroughly ruined by tears, grass stains, and mud, betrayed his upper class status. While the quality fabrics could have been stolen, as could clothes with neat stitching and intricate embroidery, but these were tailored to the boy, too fine fitting to have belonged to someone else. His black hair was a mess, sticking to his once sweaty forehead, hands curled loosely at his sides, and bruises were blooming on his pale skin. Slade approached cautiously, studying the familiar features. He didn’t recognize the boy for what he was until he saw the signet ring hanging on a chain around his neck, the unmistakable crest of Gotham royalty. This was Timothy Drake. A prince so close to the tower would ordinarily be disquieting. Though Dick would be difficult to visually identify due to the years that have passed, he had a unique enough name that he would be found out almost immediately. So close to the spring, it wasn’t unlikely that an ambitious princeling might have decided to search the forest once again. Not for the first time Slade cursed the fact that of the few memories Dick had retained, his name and birthday were two he refused to let go of. The second prince had come by often enough in those early years that Slade had many near encounters with him for years after he took Dick. Slade’s hand hovered over the hilt of his blade, it would be all too easy to send the little prince on the passage to oblivion. Just one clean strike, and the boy would no longer be a threat— neither to his plans or the relationship he had painstakingly crafted with the eldest prince. He could leave the mangled body on the path for the guards to find. It might be a good enough distraction for him to relocate Richard without being seen. He flexed his fingers, such a thing could not be undone, and he stalled at the thought of the potential fallout. Bruce Wayne kept his children close at hand, ever since Dick’s disappearance and the second one’s… Misfortune.
So, if Timothy were to turn up dead, even if Slade went through the trouble of disguising the cause, the forest would be searched, ravaged under grief and fury. A missing prince would similarly bring about search parties, swarming the area till inevitably they stumble upon the tower. If the dozen guards already here were dangerous, then hundreds of them would be disastrous. There was no sure way to stay hidden, nor relocate unhindered. No, the little prince needed to live, or at the very least die elsewhere. Slade needed him found sooner rather than later, to get the soldiers off his doorstep. Slade grabbed him by the scruff of his cloak, easily able to pick him up bodily and sling him over his shoulder. He was about to drop him when the boy sluggishly began to struggle under his arm.
“Let go-” He mumbled with as much force as he could manage in his disconcerted state. Slade tossed him, watching with grim satisfaction as he hit the ground hard, gasping in pain as he collided with a heavy oak. He tries to stand, clutching the loose dirt of the path as he barely manages to push his upper body up. Bleary eyes fail to focus on Slade, and the boy fumbles for his sword.
“Save your strength” Slade growled, heading the opposite direction of the tower. With any luck the boy wouldn’t remember their encounter at all, but just in case Slade went far enough that he was out of sight before he circled back to sprint to the tower.
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The Robin’s Nest was tucked between gnarled trees, weathered shingles sagging under moss and time. A sign of a faded crimson bird in its nest swinging in the breeze. The muffled hum of conversation punctuated by the occasional raucous laugh creeping through crooked shutters, mingling with the dull static of shiting leaves and singing bugs. Arsenal hesitated at the threshold, gloved hand lingering on the roughhewn door.
“If you want to leave, just say so, or tap my shoulder twice, should words fail.” Dick, just behind him, threw Flash a wide-eyed look.
“Is this place safe?” He surveys the splintered wood, nose wrinkling as Arsenal opens the door and a wall of scent greets them, the smell of woodsmoke and spilled air mixed with the unfortunate odor of well-traveled patrons.
“Safe? Not especially, but you wanted to see the world, and this?” Flash patted his shoulder as he passed by. “This is a part of it.” He was glad for the grime covering the mirror by the door, so his reflection wasn’t visible. The tavern was sparsely lit, the only light coming from weakly burning oil lamps and the meager bands of sunlight that made it through the windows. Long shadows wavered on the floorboards and the noise sinks into them, several patrons disengaging from their conversations to examine the newcomers. Flash tucked his hand into his pocket, slipping his knuckle dusters on. The clientele consisted exclusively of criminals and thugs. Unlikely to get them snitched on, even so close to central Gotham, but not somewhere he can let his guard down. He places a hand low on Dick’s back, who seems frozen in the doorway. The longer he stands, the more people begin to take an interest. Flash looks to the bar, relieved to see the owner. A proud woman with long dreads spilling down her back as she prepares another drink, red necklace low on her collar bones, wasp-waisted vest framing her exposed midsection. She had several mean looking knives and a well-kept sword hanging from her hips.
Arsenal exchanges a curt nod with her while Flash leads Dick to a table near the window. As they walk however, someone grabs Dick’s trailing hair.
“That’s a lot of hair…” A large, imposing man rumbles. The axe on his back sending Dick’s nerves into overdrive.
“Do you just grab strangers' hair?” Dick snaps, hurriedly reeling in bundles of his hair, accidentally leveraging himself straight into Arsenal’s chest when the hold on him isn’t released. Arsenal reactively rests his hands firmly on Dick’s slim hips to hold him steady.
"You okay sunshine?” He’s watching Dick carefully, tucking a strand behind his ear, ignoring the pang in his chest at his tense, scared state. Dick rests a free hand just below Arsenal’s collar and he swears he can still feel those delicate, strong fingers pressing against him even after Dick has moved away.
Robin swoops from Dick’s shoulder, shrieking and pecking at the man’s hand, causing him to cry out and let go to swat at the furious bird.
“Damn it! Control your filthy little animal.” He shouts, reaching for his axe “If you didn’t want nobody touchin it then maybe you shouldna let it trail along the floor.” He pursues Dick’s hurried retreat, but Arsenal shoves him back into a chair none too gently.
“And maybe you should mind your manners, hm?” He spares a glance at Dick, who stands frozen, and frowns. “Flash, find a seat, I’ll get us some food and drinks.”
Flash gathers the remaining hair in one arm, and pulls out a crudely made chair from a similarly made table. Urging Dick to sit closest to the corner, hair in his lap, and Flash next to him with his back to the tavern.
“I don’t like this Flash.” Dick’s gaze flicks across the room, and he adjusts his hair to form a makeshift curtain between his face and the other patrons. Flash bites his lip.
“I’m sorry” hoping he doesn’t sound as loathsome as he feels. “But, it’s not so bad once you get used to it. People like Arsenal and I aren’t really welcome in the nicer places unfortunately. A lot of these people are just down on their luck. Well, not that that makes them trustworthy, don’t leave our side. But, you can relax a little, okay?” Flash rambles, unable to make proper eye contact.
“I guess I understand…” Dick fidgets, hands flitting between his hair and the escrima strapped to his thighs.
“I’m sorry it’s not a more pleasant introduction.” Flash’s voice wavers a bit, frustration threading into his speech.
“Maybe my father was right, I don’t like this at all Flash, I don’t want to be here.” Dick’s lip trembles, hands clasping tightly together on the table, knuckles turning white.
“Hey, no” Flash holds Dick’s hands in his own, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. “He was wrong about you. I was scared the first time I came here with Arsenal, and I knew him a lot better than you know us.” Flash gave a reassuring squeeze. “You can do this gorgeous.” Flash had to pull away awkwardly when Dick looked up at him with pretty, watery eyes, a delicate flush on his cheeks. The man was far too pretty for his cardiac health.
“I have come bearing gifts” Arsenal announced, laying large plates piled high with bar food out in front of them, and setting down the three tankards in his hand.
“You brought him beer?” Flash pulls Arsenal down to him by his ear.
“Ow, ow, ow.” Arsenal swats his hand away “We have water in our flasks, if he doesn’t like it I’m sure you can put it in that black hole you call a stomach.”
Dick’s eyes light up as he smells the food, it isn’t like anything he’s ever seen, greasy, breaded, golden morsels with crisp salted potatoes. Dick eats one tentatively.
“Oh wow. This is amazing Arsenal.” Dick digs in, delighted by the explosive, butter flavors dancing along his tongue. He tears a piece of twisted, salty bread and dips it into the molten cheese sauce. He’s never had anything that tastes so unhealthy, but he loves it. He’s relaxed without even realizing it.
“Yeah? Never had fries or a pretzel before?” Arsenal sits across from Dick and gives a smug grin to Flash, who ignores him in favor of shoveling a huge mouthful of roast pork in his mouth.
Dick tries a sip of the beer, gagging as he hastily sets it back down near the edge of the table and ridding himself of the taste with a generously dipped pretzel. “You guys drink that, that-” He waves his hands about nebulously.
Flash chuckles, taking a long drink from his own tankard. “It’s an acquired taste, admittedly. Have you ever drank before?”
“No, I haven’t” Dick pulls his hair out of his face so he can better see his companions.
“Ah, beer isn’t the best introduction. I’ll get you some sweet mead before we leave. It was my favorite when I first started.”
“What’s sweet mead? I, ah, I do have a sweet tooth.” Dick admits sheepishly. Flash redirects him to Arsenal.
“It’s a wine made with honey, basically. Sometimes it has other things added, like fruit or flowers. It’s intolerably sweet for me.” Arsenal explains, and before he can help himself asks “You’ve really never had anything like this?” He indicates the hearty spread on the table. Dick shakes his head.
“I’ve never even seen anything like this before.” He gives an empty smile, picking at his fingers until Robin hops down nestles into Dick’s open hands. “It’s so overwhelming. Loud and messy, and terrifying.” He looks ashamed. “I don’t belong out here. I don’t-”
Arsenal can tell he’s getting worked up, and leans forward, tilting Dick’s head up with a crooked finger pressed gently to his cheek until their eyes meet.
“You belong wherever you decide to be. The first time I brought Flash here someone tried to corner him. I ended up with a black eye that Flash couldn’t look at without crying like a baby.”
“Hey!”
“The point is, everyone comes into the world scared. Half these people are probably still scared, and just learning how to deal. You just gotta give yourself the space to figure things out.” Arsenal feels the knot in his gut loosen when the distress starts to slip out of Dick’s expression.
Dick threads his fingers through Roy’s. “What if I can’t handle it? What if I never figure things out?”
Roy blinks, pulling back carefully with a put upon smile masking a painful bout of affection for the man in front of him.
“You don’t have to have the answers right now sunshine. Just take it one thing at a time, and if you can’t handle it, well. Flash and I will be here to show you how.
Dick blinks, awe filling his words. “Thank you, Arsenal. That means a lot.”
Before he could hear the response, Dick noticed the bartender approaching their table, hair swaying as she weaved through the crowd with ease. She grabs a chair, setting it backwards by their table, sitting down and leaning on the backrest.
Flash greets her joyfully “Hey Bea, long time no see.”
“Hey Flash, heard you got in trouble. Again.” She doesn’t seem upset with them, but Dick still tenses, drawing her attention.
“Hey, hope you didn’t get dragged into anything by accident. I’m Beatrice, but you can call me Bea.” She reaches out a hand, and Dick takes it carefully.
“No, I didn’t. Uh, hi. I’m…” He pauses for a touch too long. “Robin. You can call me Robin.”
If she notices anything odd about his introduction, she shows no indication of it, simply moving on, gesturing to the mostly full beer.
“You don’t seem to be enjoying that sweetheart.”
“Oh, um.” He glances at his companions briefly. “It’s not really my taste.”
“First time drinking?” She gives him a commiserating smile.
“Yes. I didn’t realize it would burn like that. Or be so bitter.” He admits with an embarrassed huff.
“Figures.” She stands waving him along. “Come up to the bar, we’ll find you something you like.”
Dick doesn’t follow until he receives an encouraging nod from both Arsenal and Flash.
“Go on, you might as well start figuring out what you like.” Flash urged him on. They watched Dick follow Bea, sitting at the bar as she started pouring samples, chattering about something beyond their hearing.
“So. Didn’t you want him to go back home?” Flash leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. Arsenal hooks his toe under one of the supports, pulling it back so Flash falls flat on his back.
“Shut up, idiot.” He grumbles. Flash just cackles from the floor.
“So, you don’t like bitter things, so let’s try some sweets, shall we?” Bea sets out several small glasses, filling them with various drinks. “I’ve got some cider, fruit wine, plain mead, and lavender mead.” She points out each option. “Try them, if you don’t like any of them, I can give you something different.”
Dick starts with the cider, sipping on it carefully. Fruity, with a bad aftertaste. “How do you know Arsenal and Flash?” He sets the glass down.
“Those two? We met when we were idiot teens, getting in over our heads more often than we didn’t. They’re a good sort.” She cleans a cup while she talks, Dick moves onto the wine, frowning at the dryness.
“So why are you with them?” She steps away for a moment to take an order, pouring and mixing a drink with clever hands.
“They’re helping me find my dream.” Dick admits softly, sipping the mead, humming in pleasant surprise.
“That so?” She fills a tankard with mead, trading it for the small glass. “What’s your dream?”
“I want to see the lanterns in Gotham. I’ve seen them from so far away for so long…” He sips the mead, both hands on the finely carved tankard. It sits warm in his belly. The honey is rich, and delicious.
“You are aware those two are wanted in Gotham, right?” She’s clearly concerned, which Dick can appreciate, but a part of him is annoyed at how oblivious everyone seems to find him. Flash and Arsenal are clearly many things, but good liars is not one of them.
“I know. I’ve seen the posters.” He dismisses amiably
“And you trust them anyway?” She seems genuinely curious, though Dick can tell she’s prying, it feels different from the way his father questions him. More similar to another memory that he can’t hold onto. Dick can picture it, a captain with a thick mustache and gruff kindness. Then the image is gone, like everything else like it.
“I didn’t, at first. But then…” He trails off, thinking about Arsenal, so easily going back on every harsh word the second he feels badly “I think I understand them enough to trust their intentions.” He thinks about Flash’s constant defense and concern, and his genuine encouragement.
“That’s how I ended up owning this place, trusting those two.” She looks across her tavern, and Dick follows her gaze. Strangely the place feels far more cozy and far less suffocating.
“Why do you do it? Run this tavern?”
“Everyone deserves a safe place to go. No matter what they’re running from.” Bea accepts a handful of coins from a departing patron. “Here I can help people who’ve given up remember what they dreamed of doing before everything went wrong.” She almost glows, as she talks about it, entirely confident that she’s doing exactly what she’s meant to.
“That’s a good reason.”
They’re interrupted by a withered man slamming the door open. He looks around with a frantic sort of mania, hand clenching paper, spotting Arsenal and Flash, pointing at them.
“Aha! They’re still here. I’m going to be rich.” He crows gleefully, right up to the moment he feels the cold point of Bea’s blade on his throat. Dick is still leaning back on the bar top, leaving a space where she’d vaulted over it.
“And why would you be rich?” She snatches the papers, which turn out to be wanted posters Gotham had sent out for the two thieves. “Did you call the guards?” She presses the blade close enough that blood beads around it, sliding down his quivering throat.
“Just for the bounty, I swears it! They won’t bother nobody else.” His shrill defense is met with a hard left hook that sends him straight to the floor. Bea grabs his belt, kicks open the door and throws him out one handed. She pauses on the threshold. Listening, and whatever she hears, makes her curse under her breath, and hurry back to Dick, grabbing his hand, leading him behind the bar.
“Idiots one and two, follow me.” She’s moving towards a door hidden in the back corner of the kitchen without waiting for them to start moving. She helps Dick account for all his hair.
“One word of this to anyone and I’ll serve your tongue as an appetizer.” She growls to the bar, before following them into a cluttered storage room. She walks between rows of casks and barrels, until she reaches a secluded shelf tucked away near the very back.
“Go see those lanterns, Robin.” Bea pulls Dick into a warm hug, and he melts into it.
“Thank you, Bea, really I-” Dick thanks her effusively, but she only holds up her hand, and pulls one of the bottles down, Dick can see the mechanism attached to the bottle, and watches in fascination as the wall slides open to reveal a staircase descending into a dark cave.
“Don’t mention it. To anyone.” Is Bea’s only farewell before the wall slides shut behind them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Slade sprints to the tower grabbing the rope the moment he’s close enough to do so, hauling himself to the locked window faster than he ever has before. He unlocks it, removes the heavy beams carelessly, throwing open the window and lurching inside.
“Little bird? Richard? Where are you?” He calls, but receives no reply. His breath quickens, anger rising like a broiling tide, hand clamping down on the table with all those damnable star charts spread across it.
“Richard. If you’re playing games, you’d best stop.” The table splinters with his snarled warning. He waits, counting down slowly as he can manage, blood rushing hotter and hotter, until he slings the table against the kitchenette wall with a furious bellow. Plates shatter, pots and pans clatter to the floor. He rends the wardrobe open. Doors dangle on bent hinges. Slade shoves everything aside. Empty. He pulls swaths of cloth from the wall, uncaring of how they shred and fray. He stalks up the stairs. Yanks the blanket from Richard’s bed. Plush pillows and animals go flying across the floor. Chest heaving, his eye falls on the empty bird cage hanging from the ceiling, birdseed gone from the bedside table. Fury fogged his mind like a haze, he unhooks the unlocked bird cage, delicate bars bowing. He throws that high against the wall too, freezing when the sound of metal against stone reverberates wrongly. The fog of anger subsides for suspicion. He approaches the wall, having to scale the wall to feel along the crevices between stones until he finds a small, subtle catch. Barely big enough for one of Richar’s fingers. He pulls out a thin pick, wrenching the stone from the wall. The crown gleams in the sunlight, peeking out from the open flap of the bag. Slade, transfixed, traces the glittering jewels. “Oh little bird, what have you been told?” He whispers to the empty tower. He pulls the satchel from the wall, catching the two papers that flutter out with it. Wanted posters, for the Flash and the Arsenal. A desperate, wrong chuckle spills from him. His boy doesn’t belong out there, with two thieves of all things. Richard was simply far too trusting, and all Slade needed was for those two to teach him that lesson, so he came running back to his Father’s arms.
Dick wasn’t difficult to follow from the tower. Slade had never taught him to cover his own tracks, and the experience of two young criminals amounted to nothing against Slade’s many years. Even if they had been able to hide from him, it wasn’t hard to guess that they’d be headed East towards Gotham. Richard could only have been coaxed away by the promise of those lanterns. Cruel amusement curled his lips. That fixation meant giving Slade an exact location to find him. The tracks lead to the Robin’s Nest, a convenient stop on the way to Gotham. He had taken advantage of the back passage often in his youth. Slade peeked into the window, watching his son look at the Arsenal so sweetly, nudging the Flash’s shoulder playfully, looking far too comfortable so far from home. He leans against the wall, listening to his son's bright joy, which no one else was ever supposed to hear. Eventually, a drunkard shambles out of the tavern, tripping over himself and knocking into Slade, who steadies him.
“You look like a man who could use some good fortune.” Slade watches the weathered old man light up, alcohol blocking out any reasonable suspicion. “What’re you offerin?” His words slur together, and he pokes Slade’s chest. “There’s a bounty on those redheads in there, sizable enough to set you up for life.” Slade ignores the pathetic man’s false bravado; men like him are forever trying to scrounge their way back from the edge of uselessness. Slade turns him in the direction of the Prince, shoving him forward several paces, noting with disgust that he barely maintains his footing. “Go on then, find the boy dressed in yellow and black, and bring him back here.” Slade prompts, sinking into the shadows to watch the scenario unfold. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tim’s brain hadn’t fully come online by the time a drunken man stumbled upon him with a determined clumsy strut. He was still trying to decide if he’d actually seen who had chunked him into the tree, or if he’d spent so much time reading descriptions of the Stranger that the image his mind conjured naturally took the form of a one eyed, white haired man. He brushed the thought aside, because he couldn’t really do anything about it on his own, and his back hurt. Oh, and some dude was staring at him like he was a gold goose.
“You lookin for two redheads?” The weird man asked, and Tim couldn’t help but to perk up. Weird or not this was important. “You found Arsenal and Flash?” He pressed, trying and failing to stand on still dead legs. “I foun, I found the guys who’ll make me money. At the nest.” He declares, far too proudly for how little sense he made. Tim wanted to tear his hair out.
“So, guys who have a bounty on them?” He makes an attempt at clarification, but the man has already begun to walk off. “Hey, wait-” Tim cries out, voice echoing through the forest, but either the drunk doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. He groans, pinching his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. The nest probably referred to the Robin’s Nest, since that’s where most morally grey folk got their meals this close to the city. Why Flash or Arsenal would have doubled back there he has no idea, but it’s worth investigating.
He hears horses crashing through the underbrush alongside the tell-tale clatter of armor. He took a deep breath, before calling out. There’s a brief moment of silence preceding Barbara’s horse leaping onto the path and removing her helmet to get a good look at him. Tim can already tell she’s going to be utterly insufferable about this.
“Well, if it isn’t our wayward prince.” She sounds teasing, but Tim can hear the relief just below it. He wasn’t getting out of the castle until he had gray hair. She’s joined by six others, one of which holds the chain leading a pissed off and shackled Ravager.
“Well, your wayward prince knows where the rest of our thieves are.” Tim grabs the reins of one of their spare horses, shaking off the lingering wooziness to jerk his head in the direction of the Robin’s Nest.
“This way.” He sets off at a canter, knowing that Barbara will follow close even if most of the other guards will lag behind due to the captured Ravager. The two of them can handle whatever they find. Chapter 1 || Chapter 2
