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Ritournelle

A screen reflected his dull, expressionless mask back at him as he typed into the dreary, darkness of midnight. Dick slumped over and slid a hand down his bleary face. In a matter of months, he had gone from egomaniac to pod person to a shell. By contrast, the Robin that led the team in his youth seemed like a level-headed tactician. These days he was hardly a dog with a bone, desperate to make disjointed pieces fit a theory—he'd been neutered months ago. He felt helpless, like a toddler. Because this 'work' was little more than a pacifier. It was hardly dire, it was basic. Data entry. Did he urgently need to finish digitizing their old backlog of cases?

Obviously not.

Hell, they all knew Victor could have done it in minutes, but he didn't. Because it was a project. And a project meant something to do. Something to keep busy. And these days, it was best he kept busy, better in fact if he stayed far away from the others. His moods seemed to put everyone off, but he didn't care. He worked better alone anyway. He sighed for the thousandth time. This was frightening dull work, but it at least was numbing. Anything, so he didn't have to think about—

Intruder! Tower Main Entrance... Intruder!

Dick bolted upright like a Pavlovian response. Without warning, the room blazed with light, shining red, white, and yellow straight into his face. It was blindingly bright as his computer began to flash incessantly with the same alert.

Intruder! Tower Main Entrance... Intruder!

Something had tripped the Tower's silent alarm. Or maybe even someone. Dick felt an odd excitement stirring in his bones. Surely, he could take care of this one on his own. There was no need to even wake the team. If he were to be completely honest, he longed for danger and the thrill that accompanied it. It was the only thing that could make him feel alive anymore. A leader shouldn’t open himself up to constant risk. But this was different. It wasn't as if he had gone out to seek it this time. So Vic couldn't tell him he was being reckless when it had come to him directly.

Who could fault him for defending the Tower?

He molded with the shadows as he propelled forward, cutting around corners and bending behind archways. He tried not to think about what or whom he was channeling as he crept along. Sleepless nights and overwork meant that Dick had lost a little muscle mass, but he hadn't lost a step. He was silent and stealthy as ever.

At last, he saw it: A silhouette of an intruder gliding through the west entryway to the Operations Room of the Tower. Were they trying to get in using the cover of darkness? Well, they were in for it now. Trespassing was enough of a pretense. His lip curled into a sneer as he approached deadly and dangerous.

"Don't. Move."

The figure froze.

"You have exactly ten seconds to explain who the hell you are, and what the hell you're doing here." He paused. There was still no answer, just more dead air. "Staying silent? Bad move. Whoever you are, you better start talking—now."

His escrima sticks cast crackling spotlights in the dark. They oscillated with blue electricity as he approached—far less cautiously than he should. The shroud leapt backward. And the umbras seemed to move with it, like a squid hovering above the ocean floor, using ink clouds of its own making for cover. Something was eerily familiar about it all. He tried to shake the feeling that he recognized the way this shadowy figure was moving.

But it couldn't be.

He'd dreamt about it enough times. But… There was just no way.

"Fine." He widened his stance, the escrima sticks moving like electric nun-chucks. Though his body's rhythm was languid, it was seamless. Second nature. But mercy wasn’t anymore. "Don't say I didn't warn you—"

"Wait!" The hoarse voice was insistent. "It's me." The cyan pulses outlined an outstretched hand and a pale visage, widened eyes. That face... Her face. "Please, don't."

The weapons clattered to the floor with a resounding clang.

An ebony brow creased in confusion. He gazed blankly, struck dumb, as a petite girl walked into the moonbeams and electronic sea of dotted blues and greens. It was her standing in the entrance. It was her in a tiny black sweater and baggy low rise jeans. Really her, like no time had passed at all. She took a single step, letting the duffel bag slip off her shoulder to land in a noisy heap on the ground.

He fell out of his fighting stance—he was powerless against her. She had overtaken him completely without drawing her magic or a fist.

"Raven."

"Dick, I—" Her voice was barely audible. "I thought... No one would be awake—at this hour..." But he was. Dick's eyes were growing wider and wider. "Hi..."

"Raven," he repeated, dumbly. He knew nothing else but her name. Because it was her. All he could think of was the fact that it was her.

"I'm sorry I didn't call first," Raven croaked. She swallowed, blinking quickly. "Maybe I shouldn't have come... I can go—"

"You're not going anywhere." Dick's voice rumbled low and threatening. Suddenly, he rushed forward again. Then, he grabbed her. Not to apprehend her, but to hold her, to bring her into a full and tight embrace. Lifting her off the ground, cradling her to his chest. Threading his fingers through her hair. Touching her. Breathing her in as deeply as he could. "Raven, you came back." There was a river of emotions rushing and Raven was quickly swept away as the flood poured through the cracks in the dam of their bond to break free. Her legs shook until they gave out. And she closed her eyes and let him hold her and hold her up.

"You're back—you came back."

"Yes," Raven whispered. "I did—I am."

"You came back to me," Dick said, almost questioningly. He brushed the longer locks out of her eyes as he searched them. They were different. Her hair was different.

It didn't matter. Not just this second. Not ever. Not when he'd soon be able to open her up and search her at his leisure. He registered this briefly before his mind went blank and he crushed his mouth hard into hers. She melted into him, so he could drink her up, after drinking her in.

Dick was unrestrained, claiming her lips furiously, holding her so tightly, his hands fumbling all over her body. He just needed to feel her. Make sure she was really real. Really there before him. Gods, she tasted so damn good. And she felt just like he remembered.

Perhaps a bit thinner, but he didn't care. It was her all the same.

"Dick. Dick, what are we doing—" She whispered on each erratic breath falling between their lips.

But she knew what they were doing. And what she was doing to him. She let out a squeak of surprise as he pushed into her mouth. He hissed when her tongue pressed back against his. It was so hard and hot, their teeth clashed before they had to breathe.

"I missed you." Her words tumbled out clumsily. Drunkenly. But she couldn't fight it. "I did."

"Gods, Raven." He grunted in approval, tucking her lip between his. Dick sighed. "I really was losing my mind. A moment ago, I thought you weren't real." Each day had been more painful than the last. "I just...missed you so much."

"Oh, Richard..." Her eyes were moist, but she couldn't stop. And neither could he. She gave in completely the soft sensation of his lips on her neck. "Mm—"

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