Housekeeping

by | Mar 1, 2017 | Chronicles

Dinah: One might call it extreme willpower that had kept me from knocking Jr. off his bike and then leaving tire marks across his back. Maybe it would be surprising that I have that, given my penchant for skimpy clothing and outrageous flirting. And swearing. And maybe sometimes drinking, but those are all outlets. I’d always had a direction to channel the willpower towards, and then those where it was okay to let loose. It also made it a lot easier to lead the dual lives. The separation. It had been a little bit of that, the willpower. Mostly? It was just leeway. I gave it to him yesterday, I’m not terribly likely to do it again.

I was in his place once. It’s all going to hinge on whether or not he pulls himself out of that mood and into something more productive. It’s very possible he won’t be able to without some intervention though.

“Hnfph.”

A solid, echoing thunk is the answer to my shoulder slamming into the door. It’d probably have drawn some attention if it weren’t for the steady thumping backbeat coming from down below. No one in the bar is likely to have even noticed and if they did, probably wouldn’t have paid too much attention. The Pretty Bird Bar has always been multifunctional. I just haven’t been terribly involved in the running of it since I moved out of the city. The bar portion I’d normally stayed fairly well clear of. Before I would have been out patrolling this time of the night, with the place emptying out by the time I was ready to crash.

When the beverages switch from booze to high octane caffeine, that’s usually my cue to participate. I don’t know how long I”m going to be here, so I’ve just told my managers they can continue to do their thing. Just that I’d taken up residence once again upstairs. It’s clearly in need of some cleaning, I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Or to fixing the stubborn door that will recognize my keys, but not my authority at the moment. Not without those one or two swift body slams.

Tim: “It works a lot easier if you say the magic words.”

Now that only works as an opening line, if you’re able to really put something in to the statement. Me? I’m saying it from the vantage point of moving to catch the Canary, with all gentlemanly haste the next time she goes to shove a shoulder in to the door. If only because I opened it for her. From the inside, where I’d been awaiting her for too long to really discuss.

Needless to say, I’ve made myself useful. Cleaning. Mostly because there’s this little part of me that is at least meticulously OCD about being in a place with a thicker layer of soot than a chimney. Strictly speaking though, it certainly points to how long it’s been since the owner was about full time.

Now aside from performing minor magic tricks. Picking locks. And making with timely swash-buckling saves of damsels who were about to bite the dirt? I’m also fluent in the language of not getting my ass kicked before I get a chance to explain. So as soon as I’m sure she’s not going to take a tumble, I light in to that very explaination.

“No one knows I’m here. In Gotham or your Apartment, either one. I’d like to keep it that way for now.” Pausing, for nothing more than a heartbeat and a smirk. “Before you get to the grousing at me for breaking in, just remember that I didn’t launch in to asking you why you’re back in Gotham.”

Dinah : “No one really seems to appreciate it when I use my version.”

There’s a handful of actions and their answering reactions that happen in a very short amount of time. Surprise at the door moving, when I hadn’t quite hit it yet. For the third time. Third time has been the charm the other two times I’d come in so far. One to drop off my stuff and sleep after I’d gotten into the city, and the other when I’d trudged back in earlier in the day. Only the still packed bag, and the clean sheets on the bed, along with some footprints in the dust to show that I’d even been at all, because I hadn’t tidied up any of the rest of it. I hadn’t yet decided if it was going to be worth the effort.

The surprise is followed by senses registering that someone opened it for me. The next heartbeat preparing to block an attack, while stiff arming the start of my own, even as I start to pitch forward, into a body that’s ready to not just catch me but keep me from doing exactly what I was about to. Recognition, and a new round of surprise as to who exactly it is. So that the quip about me and my magic words comes with a half smirk, and eyelashes batted a la ‘my heeeeero’ at the boy who’s broken into my not-really-home.

“Want to avoid the jealousy? Great call, Drake.”

Feet under myself properly again, I move in the rest of the way to the place I used to live, that now I’m just going to stay in for a while, yanking the door closed once more behind me. It’s quieter inside than it was on the landing, but not by a lot. The bass is a little lower, less chest rattling, but still present.

“Grousing? You cleaned. You can break in all you want if you’re going to clean. Are you expecting accusations?”

I’m assuming he’s here for the same reason I am. Why he came here first, however, is the real question. Along with the one on the tip of my tongue that’s a sympathetic ‘are you okay?’ I’m not going to ask it. I know I wasn’t when I had to go through what these boys are. Only they’ve got the means to do something about it that I didn’t have at the time. I expect they’ll be using them.

“I’d say make yourself at home, but you already did. Drink? Of the non-alcoholic type. I don’t have anything up here but I’m sure they’ve got something downstairs.”

Tim: “Your version involves less bippity boppity and more &^%$ than anything. So I can understand, if not agree with, their displeasure.”

There’s not an ounce of trying to combat Dinah. At least not once she’s recognized the voice, which I’d made special to give her as a clue before opening the door. After making sure she wasn’t going to clobber an attacker, I was able to move a bit more smoothly in to setting her to rights and out of my arms. In a way it’s a bit of a dance, something to distract. On the other hand, it’s more for her than me at this point. Setting her at ease, quickly, so that we move beyond my breaking in. Of course, she doesn’t seem to mind that half as much as I was concerned about.

“Needed something to do while I was waiting and.. eh.. it was more than a little bit gross. Like. Totally, in fact.” Stepping mostly aside so that she can enter and take command of the apartment. Conceding that is something of a learned trait when it comes to certain personalities and also partially out of difference to this being her lair. Temporary or not. “Well that might be part of the grousing. You’ve currently got more non-alcoholic drink up here than alcoholic. But. Upside? Clean bedsheets. Focus on the bedsheets.”

There’s that smirk once more, however fleetingly long it remains before I get more to the point. “Less avoiding jealousy and more avoiding… well…”

“The truth? I’m wanting to avoid the pity party, at least for now. It might sound callous,” or perhaps a little too like Bruce. “But I’ll have time to mourn later. Right now, I need to focus on the investigation while the trail is at least luke warm.”

“That’s why I’m here. I want your help,” there’s a particular phrasing, the word ‘want’ instead of ‘need.’ “I can do this alone. Dick could do this alone. We were trained do this. The problem is? We need a team to get this done, but we’ve all been trained to be the leader. The only way this is going to work? Is if someone else brings us together.”

Dinah: Maybe if this had been a year or two ago when this was home I would have had a bigger problem with it. If it were someone else skulking in my home, cleaning it or not, it would be an issue even now but this is someone I know. Beyond knowing Tim Drake, he knows my secret, and I know his. Their family’s. If he was here to cause harm, there was ample opportunity. Plus. Honestly. The place looks nicer than it did before I left in the first place.

“The fridge, too? Tch. I’ll curse you later, I’m sure. Right now I’m still riding the hey, place is clean wave with a side of I am actually fairly pleased to see you.”

Not pleased with why I’m seeing him, or why I’m here, but it is what it is. Ideally that doesn’t need saying, but you have to learn the hazards of this life and prepare yourself. Maudlin as that sounds. I just never truthfully expected it to be Bruce that we’d be mourning. Especially without one of Gotham’s regulars tooting their horns from the tops of the bridges and every other platform they could manage.

“No, it sounds pragmatic. And the only thing worse than a pity party, is a pity party of one.”

It’s not an unkind smile that I offer Tim, before tossing my keys on the now much less dusty coffee table that rests in front of a well worn leather sofa, that had been bed almost as often as the actual bed once upon a time. Like the many nights when I’d been too exhausted to make it the rest of the way, or needed the space on said coffee table to spread out first aid supplies.

“Do you have anything to go off yet? No one’s been gloating that I’ve picked up on. Which is telling, just not immediately helpful except for crossing some names off a list.”

Walking across the front room for the apartment’s kitchen is an elegant if funny looking heel to toe shuffle that steps me out of one sneaker, and then the other. Barefoot is a much less disgusting proposition in here now, and even if I sigh over what’s not in my fridge, I still select a bottle of water before leaning on the counter, blonde eyebrow lifted in surprise at what he’s suggesting.

“Too many cooks in the BatKitchen? Yeah, I could see the issue. I ran into Damien earlier. Judging by the … defensive… mannerisms I think someone’s already tried to rein him in unsuccessfully. But that’s what I’m here for.”

The bottle becomes more gesturing tool than beverage, animated hand gestures and an eye roll demonstrating that defensive might not have been my word of choice for Wayne’s son but that leeway thing again. He’s only going to get it for so long, though. I’m not above a little physical demonstration of someone’s asinine behavior and it needing to stop. Sometimes, it’s all someone will understand.

“I think, anyway. Helena asked. I haven’t been to see her yet, though.”

He hadn’t harassed me about why I’d come back, but I supply that answer freely anyway. Which means she, too, is back. Just with a farther trip than I’d had.

“Moral support has a little different meaning for someone like us than it would to your average gal pal. And potentially more vengeance than justice.”

Tim : “Fridge too. Unpacked your bags too.”

Which is the only way I’m going to welcome her back to the City. I’ve put her things away. It’s as good as saying out loud that I’m giving her permission to stay. Although, I’m not one to say it outright that she needs permission. From anyone. Even if the truth is that she does. Without it she’ll be persona non-grata, which in this city is worse than being one of the Bad Guys. Whether anyone else has given it too her, I’m making in-roads here and banking upon the idea that she’ll want to do her part. We’re not speaking about it, but she owed Bruce if nothing else.

There is something ‘else’ though. Dinah has connections here and she isn’t immune to them like Bruce was. She hasn’t turned me down either, so there’s at least a foot in the door. Leading me to follow her, not too closely, as she pads along through her newly cleaned apartment. One might wonder just how long I’ve been here, because there’s no dust at least one anything. I’ve been busy. Whether truthfully allowing some OCD to take hold or cleaning as a means of staying busy, who knows?

“One of our contacts at the GCPD, gave me the names of the detectives working the case. I’m going to be paying the coroner a visit to get the reports. Unofficially.” There seems to be more to the ‘plans,’ so far, but I’m hesitating a little. Only to jump back to something she had said before. “It doesn’t take a degree in deductive reasoning to draw a line from someone trying to reign in Damian to it being Dick. But that just goes back to my original point. That means Damian is already on the defensive and Dick’s already on the offensive. Grayson is probably already back at the Cave with Al tailoring the batsuit for him.”

“If we don’t bring them all together soon, there will be no bringing us together. It’ll fracture. Quickly. Bruce is… was… a shatter point. Everything is going to go to blazes if we don’t bring everyone together. Get some sort of organization in the works. Mourning does strange things, it’s like a drug. Enhancing all of our worst qualities.”

“Erm… Helena asked you back? So are you her… or are you still with that girl with the bow and arrows?”

Dinah: “Timothy Drake. Pilfering a lady’s unmentionables with your grubby, private school paws? Well. I’d be shocked but there’s not really a lady present, and your hands are probably cleaner than everyone else in this building right now put together.”

The bar isn’t exactly in the nicest part of Gotham, because the nice parts of Gotham are pricey and I hadn’t moved the location when I’d taken it over. Equal parts happenstance and design because it was always here, even before I was born and it left me right in the thick of things, with better access than I would have had if I’d kept my Father’s house closer to the ‘burbs. That had been sold, and the money gone towards gear and my own revenge turned justice. I just have to try and make sure that Bruce’s goes the same way.

I’d say they can’t actually throw me out, my birth certificate says Gotham. My high school diploma reads the same. I know the city front to back. But they can. Bruce had at least put it in a way that made sense, and I understood. I’ll take the request for help though, over Damien’s help or get out of my way line. And the unspoken welcome in the Robin Maid and Turndown Service. Tim’s still clearly on top of things, or just thrown himself fully back into the fray since he arrived if he’d tracked me down that quickly. Which is a good thing, when you need to hit the ground running as a crew. If we can actually make a crew of more than the two of us.

“The longer it takes, the more opportunity there is for everyone to start making their own playbook, and then it’s taking their balls and going home to their own imaginary vigilante sandboxes.”

Drumming the fingers of my free hand on the counter, my mouth pulls to the side in the most dour look that’s crossed it since I walked in. He’s absolutely right, and he doesn’t need me to tell him that. We’re a gaggle of orphans, and now in different ways for each of us? Suffering through it again. Brother, father, friend, lover. Preparing for it, and living through it are different. It’s easy just from brief encounters with each to see the wide variety in coping that’s going on.

“I’m not sure if having the training, skills and resources to do something about it makes it easier or harder. We can at least be productive, and hopefully less reactionary.”

Rolling my eyes, I finally take a swig of my water like it’s all that’s keeping me from coming across the space between us and swatting him upside the head. There’s still humor in the expression, though.

“Her…hero? Role model? Friend? Because the answer to all those is yes. Keeping tabs on me, Red? But no. I’m not with anyone. I’m here. And that’s all I am for the moment. Do you want me to see what I can get from the Detectives? At least some of the department that worked with my Dad are still there, and they usually at least act happy to see me.”

Tim: “Pilfering….” There’s this look of blankness that accompanies not really recognizing what she’s said, with what I’ve done, but when the facts click in to place you can’t unring that bell can you? “Oh, hoo. You are teasing me aren’t you. So that’s what that feels like?”

With a sigh over having been caught in Dinah’s teasing, I let her witness my roll of the eyes because it melds right in to the self-same smirk she’s already seen multiple times. “Given that I didn’t see any unmentionables. Either you don’t wear them or that bag got lost at the airport. In either case there weren’t any to pilfer.”

There’s teasing, bantering and then there’s our real discussion. She’s caught right on to the thread of what I actually came to see her for. I can almost see the chips falling in to place behind her eyes. Now we both know it to be truth. If we let everyone play in their own proverbial sandbox too long? Everyone is going to become their own version of Batman. It’s what he trained us for. We were the lineage. Taught in order to leave this city and others like it with a Batman, even if he should fall.

Only now Bruce’s plans are left without a schemer to bring them to fruition. “If you can contact the Detectives working the case. I’ll hit the Coroner’s office. Once we’ve gathered the case work, we need to bring everyone together. Put everyone on the same footing. If you can define the task and the parameters, then there’s a chance we curb the tide.”

“I’m sorry to put this on you. The others respect you too. They’ll at least listen, if for no other reason than the Cowl would clash with your fishnets.” She’s not going to be Batman or even try to be any time soon. So by my count, that should put her squarely as someone not to rub Dick or Damian the wrong way. “… oh… and I keep tabs on everyone, it’s kind of what I do. Especially the good looking, but morally questionable ones.”

“Said with all due respect.”

“No, seriously. I mean you’re like a role-model to scoundrels every where. Hall of Fame. I want to ask for your autograph.” Instead of letting her swat me with the water bottle, I’m passing her a burner phone. “I’m also about to suggest you give me your number. Go ahead, take the flattery. I’m here all week.”

Dinah : “Maybe a little. What, no girls to do that to you back in Metropolis?”

Although if I remember correctly, and it’s really unlikely that I don’t, he’s been going to an all boys school, so I hope there weren’t any girls there to tease him mercilessly. Could have met some elsewhere though. Maybe. If he had bothered to devote any real amount of attention to that kind of thing. When I was that age, my priorities had been a little bit different. Not a lot different though.

“Little of column A, with a side of I basically threw the contents of a laundry basket into a duffel, stowed the suit and was on my way.”

Anything I missed, I figured I’d just replace when I landed. Apparently that meant underwear. Probably some half pairs of socks too, based on my usual laundry habits which are poor to abysmal at best. My everyday wardrobe had just seemed a lot less important than the suit and getting my ass to Gotham.

“I’ll head over there first thing…well…”

Looking a little mournfully at the bottle of water in my hand, before I cap it and set it down on the counter once again.

“Second thing in the morning. After I round up some coffee for myself, and as a little warm-up gift at the precinct.”

There’s jokes in what Tim’s just said, but there’s also absolute seriousness. And truth. I have my own name, my own Legacy that I’m a part of and it doesn’t hinge upon the Bat, or any of his work. Yes, I’ve worked with Bruce. I helped train the younger ‘class.’ It taught me that sometimes teamwork gets shit done that you may be able to do on your own, just a whole lot slower. It also brings backup, and a modicum of safety in a very unsafe world and line of ‘work.’ But the cowl? Isn’t something I want. Even if I were going to set up permanent residence here once again. I’m the Black Canary. I don’t do hats. Cowls. Whatever.

“Respect is noted.”

Laughing, I waggle my eyebrows at him for the compliment, and his not wrong commentary about my morals. It’s just the way I work, and how I always have. Call it my version of coping with what happened to me. But that, too, isn’t entirely a joke. Not the morals, the keeping tabs. I’m very sure that he really does do just that. Even if he hadn’t turned up here when he did, I would have believed it. He’s one of Bruce’s progeny after all.

“Just all week? I better get my fill while I can, then. Here. I assume you’ve got somewhere to stay?”

Punching in the series of numbers that connects to my phone, before handing the cheap and serviceable plastic number back over to him.

Tim: “St. Francis doesn’t lend itself to entering the dating scene,” there’s no joking here, this is a straight answer if there ever was one. “Especially when you’re there to get more than a classical education. My ‘tutors’ weren’t bringing a math book and didn’t look half as nice as some of my class mates’.”

If what she says about her laundry is a surprise it never registers on my face. But then again, if I am true to my word (and I am), then I’ve gone through her things in the name of putting them away. Meaning I know more about what she brought along than she does. What’s important to take away from this, is that I’ve kept no secrets from her. Veiling the truth in playful teasing and flirting, so as to not put it forth as something hostile. Yet there’s no insulting Dinah’s intelligence. She knows that I’ve vetted her. Agreed to her remaining in Gotham, if not out right endorsed her as taking on the mantle of leadership to keep our egos out of play. All of those things accomplished without either of us being angry at the other.

When the dust clears I’ve accomplished all of my goals for coming her -and- I’m leaving with two boons that I hadn’t planned on. The first being the good humor that she’s in. Apparently my approach had more merit than Damian’s. Then there’s the second thing I’m making off with…

“Mhm. We had safe houses all over the City,” most of the world actually, to be truthful. “But I was planning to crash on your couch. Until I can make sure they’re all still intact. I was just hoping that you’d get around to offering, so that I didn’t have to invite myself. Especially after I just got your number, talked about your unmentionables and told you that you’re morally bankrupt but awesome-in-my-book.”

“Great. Now it sounds like a very twisted pick-up line.”

“Tell you what, I’m going to crash over there,” gesturing to the apartment’s sofa. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the precinct. I’ll head to the coroner’s, you to the detectives. And if you play your cards right, Ms. Lance, I’ll treat you to a steaming hot cup of Tim in the morning.”

“Joe. I mean. Joe. Steaming hot cup of Joe.”

 

Rendezvous

by | Feb 26, 2017 | Chronicles

Tim: Making friends is not exactly top of the priority list. Not when you’re actually attending these schools for their intended purpose: Education. Soaking in every single thing you can, in order to further your own personal agenda. There is very little time for the extra curricular that most people in the age group might enjoy. Despite the focus, the intent design upon learning everything possible as quickly as possible, a couple of friends happened anyway. It hadn’t particularly been because of shared interests though.

At first it was simply clinical interest in the mythical ‘Son of Lex Luthor.’ He was a mystery in and of himself, which tripped all of the little red flags in my head that have been drilled in for years. Nothing about Conner Luthor was natural or easily explained. No real records of him prior to his basically showing up on the school’s doorstep. What history did exist was clearly fabricated. The thinly veiled lie that it had been for his protection only heightened the need to look deeper. Then deeper again when this super boy found himself in the news.

What I had at the end of that search hadn’t been entirely what I expected. This group, N.O.W.H.E.R.E. was the meta-human equivalent of the boogeymen. Hunting down metas all across the country and doing god knows what with them. Their connections to Conner Luthor was stranger still. It seemed that they were the reason for his missing history. Except that it got even more curious still when I dug deeper and found that he’d been working for them, not hiding from them. Nothing added up, so I decided to extend my normal stays at these schools until I rooted out the truth.

Nothing was ever simple though, was it? Every new bit that I’d uncovered took me deeper down the rabbit hole. Until I’d at least unraveled one mystery. I knew why this mysterious Luthor was here. A man with his resources could put his son in to any school he wanted. Yet here was Conner Luthor going to some private school in Metropolis. An all Boy’s school. Sure it fit in with his Father’s agenda, as being ‘Home Grown,’ but it simply didn’t make sense. Until I met her.

“Thanks for meeting me,” it’s not your usual place that I might be seeing her. “Without your boyfriend, I mean.”

The Metropolis Museum of Natural History. A natural place for Cassandra Sandsmark to be. Her mother has connections here, if not being properly on the payroll. Her own background would bring her to this place on her own accord. It’s public, while being private all at once. In one hand is a starbucks coffee. In the other is a Metro-Moo-Moo-Milk, Chocolate. It’s the latter that is being offered to her.

Cassie : I don’t exactly get to meet a lot of Conner’s friends. That might make a lot of girls wonder about what that might spell for their relationship with a boy, except in my case I’m actually pretty aware of what that is. For starters, he doesn’t really have many. How’s that work when you’re the resident A-Lister? Well, people want to be your friend but in reality they just want to use you for your connections. For some kids that might work out to be the same thing, but Conner doesn’t have anything in common with most of them. Other than the fact that he looks like a teenage boy, comes from money and has the trust fund and allowance to match. He at least fits in with his classmates.

“Hey, no problem.”

I can’t say the same. It’s only because I understand the necessity in fitting in and not drawing attention to myself (the wrong kind of attention that is) that I bother at all. While it had started as an act, I have actually made a few friends along the way. The sort of people that we hang out with on the weekends, or go to movies as a group with. About the same as the sorts of friends of Conner’s that I’ve met. Friendly, but probably not someone that’s going to be on my Christmas card list in five years. Maybe my priorities are a little skewed though. Common interests, so to speak.

It really is no problem though, turning up because Tim had asked me to. And the location doesn’t exactly strike me as weird. I grew up in Museums, and on dig sites. This is so much more my natural habitat than a gymnasium in my idiotic cheerleading skirt. The one I’m wearing right now is equally idiotic, but it’s about a foot longer. And plaid, awful blue plaid in the proper colors a St. Mary’s girl should be wearing. I should technically be in school right now, but of all the places to play hookie this one isn’t going to get me into trouble. I can claim project research, or if nothing else? That I already know everything there is to know about this week’s ancient history syllabus.

The chocolate milk is taken with a pleased, and grateful smile and I twist the top off in order to take a swig. Without my boyfriend? The drink covers up the skeptical look on my face as to whether that’s actually the case or not, if only partially. He’s not physically here but whether I’m really without him or not?

“Well… uh. You’re. Welcome? What’s up, Tim? Not that semi-clandestine museum rendezvous’ aren’t fun but I have a feeling you’re pretty much the only boy at that school that wouldn’t need a guided tour and a tutoring session.”

Tim: The school uniforms is a thing. Both schools. Cassandra’s and the one that I’m attending alongside her boyfriend. We should both be sporting it, but only one of us is doing so. Which is a brand of irony in and of itself, given that I feel at home in one and this girl’s reaction says she’d rather wear anything but it. Well, almost anything. Her facial nuance is clear any time she’s wearing her standard cheer outfit, that it’s tolerated but not exactly adored.

Once the milk has been handed off, there’s a shared glance of understanding over whether or not her boyfriend is ‘around’ or not. “No. No tours or tutoring, although I understand you’re something of legend at those particular things. Maybe another time.”

The slant of one thin eyebrow speaks far more than the actual words spilling forth do, but that’s because I’ve actually done my homework. It’s what I do. According to the kids St. Francis, Conner went from an absentee, smart mouth, never turn in an assignment loser to a straight A student almost magically after starting his sessions with this girl. If that didn’t merit a second look, then nothing would. When given that second glance though, it’s quite curious how she’s tutoring someone like Mr. Luthor in anything. Their course work is almost completely counter to one another. They share not one single common thread. Yet results speak for themselves. Her impact upon Luthor’s life was a turn around. The only real question is how she managed it, I have my guesses based upon other meetings but…

“I’m leaving,” no preamble, just the facts of the situation. “I don’t know if or when I’ll be back.”

“Things are happening back home, it’s a long story. There’s a need for secrecy that I’m afraid Conner wouldn’t quite understand, but I’m willing to share it with you if need be to garner your help. As you know, he’s associated with some people who might also take an interest in what’s transpiring in Gotham. I can’t take the risk of them knowing the whole truth.”

How -I- know about Conner’s associations is left quite unspoken about. What’s clear though, is that I’m aware at least some surface information about it. “Gotham is no place for someone like him. Someone like you either. I need your help, but I understand if you might have some reservations about helping me keep a secret from your boyfriend.”

Cassie : “I don’t know about legend, but I’ve got an unfair advantage that most kids don’t.”

More true than most people know, given that I could have flown here if I’d chosen but that’s kind of high profile and my skirt is knee length which means it’s not nearly long enough for that sort of activity. But after a moment’s pause I continue on and clarify that something like that isn’t what I’d meant. Nope. No bench pressing tanks here…

“I mean. My Mom has special clearance, and I was actually there when they discovered the burial site that they just started exhibiting. I was nine, but…right. Yeah. Another time.”

Conner hadn’t actually needed the tutoring. Everyone believes he did, so the whole ruse was clearly a success. He just hadn’t bothered. Everything I know about Tim says that is not his issue, and he’s given me a run for my money in a ‘facts’ race a time or two. His lack of uniform means he either had some time between school and here to change, or maybe that he just didn’t go to school today. A question that answers itself with that bomb he’s just dropped.

“You know how ominous that sounds, right? Especially starting it with ‘if’ instead of just going with ‘when.’ The fact that you felt the need to put an ‘if’ in there at all…?”

I’m no dumb blonde. I’m not the overly suspicious brunette that Conner can be, either, but there’s just some things if you’ve got a brain and are attentive to the world around you, you’ll just pick up on. Twisting the cap back onto my Moo Moo, my lips do a little twist of their own to the side as the look of concern I’m wearing starts to get a little more intense.

“Tim. You don’t have to share anything if you don’t want to, I’d help anyway. No questions asked. Well.”

There’s a vague flick of my hand as if to indicate that that’s maybe not entirely true. It would obviously depend if he wanted my help with like. An axe murder, or something that would not sit right with me on the moral scale, but you wouldn’t need to explain that to most people. I probably shouldn’t actually be doing it now. It also brings the focus back onto me and less onto my ‘not present’ boyfriend, because I can’t exactly say ‘yup! I absolutely know that Tim and boy, you’re SO right…’ So I don’t say anything about it at all.

“Someone that goes to private rich kid school? Right, yeah. No. I mean. I understand. I don’t keep secrets from Conner. It’s kind of a big thing that he trusts me.”

Otherwise, how the hell am I going to manage him when he needs managing? But obviously, Tim doesn’t mean trust fund babies aren’t welcome in Gotham. He means the other kind of kids that we are. But when it comes to keeping a secret from Conner? Or meeting somewhere without him? Boy’s got super hearing and x-ray vision. Keeping him out of/away from something he’s half interested in is a challenge.

“But if it’s not my secret, then it’s not mine to tell him. Simple as that.”

Tim: “No. It’s Legend. Trust me. You’re the talk of St. Francis. Most of the guys think you have some sort of magic power or something. The others think you must be talented in other areas. They’re not smart enough to realize you have other means of keeping a Luthor’s attentions. Don’t hold it against them.”

There is a certain pause there, because the truth is I’d love to sit down and talk about the exhibit. Cassie was there. It’s like learning from the source. You couldn’t ask for a better information bank than that. Except, of course, her mother maybe. But. That pause ends when I have to weigh the desire to explore, with the need to get back home before someone does something stupid.

It’s Gotham. There is a whole lot of stupid. Even more than at school. “It’s not meant to be ominous, just truthful. Look, I can’t ask you to do something like this without at least a little bit of disclosure on my side. My adopted Father, Bruce Wayne, died recently. Got killed, actually. Most people don’t realize the connection because I don’t normally use his last name.”

“Your boyfriend knows though. I think that’s why I’m on the short list for his after-school shenanigans. Luthors. Waynes. It’s kind of a thing.”

“That’s part of the problem here Cassie, it’s not really a secret. Maybe I’m being a little too vague here. I just assumed he’d told you. I know.” Once again, there’s a pause. Giving her a chance to assimilate, to fill in the blanks of what that means. After a drink of coffee and reading her expression, there’s a little bit of a rolling to my eyes before I do it for her. “Come on. Really. You managed a superman with a full layout twist dismount at last year’s cheer competition. Except your superman had a torn quadriceps. The only miracle about it, is that you managed to do it while holding that micro-miniskirt in place.”

“And really. A superman? Did Conner talk you in to that…? Ugh. He’s a bit of a tosser with that ego of his at times. Y’know?”

“The point being. Your boyfriend doesn’t make friends easily. He’s going to notice if I disappear. He’s going to look in to it and while I can use this little clip to broadcast white noise for a few meters of privacy for this discussion? I can’t block out the whole City of Gotham. So I need Conner, and by Conner I really mean the people he works for, to not take an interest in where I’m going. So. Think you can distract him.”

“Wait. Correction. I know you can distract him. What I need is for you to keep him out of Gotham. Period.”

Cassie : My lips part like I’m about to ask him what other areas I’m supposedly talented in, but the words don’t actually make it past half-formed in my brain before I put two and two together, turn a soft shade of pink, and then close them again with an aggrieved ‘hmph.’ Boys. Basically only not the worst thing in the world, because girls are a lot higher on my terrible list as a species. And I have to spend a lot more time around them. Thankfully I have the good grace, and wit, to carry on with the conversation like that wasn’t just mortifying.

“Oh, no worry. I don’t intend to. They’d probably like it, and then Conner’d probably feel the need for some manly display of displeasure. The real secret was apparently just weeks of telling him to get lost and not fawning. Catnip for Luthors, or does it work on all of you?”

I go promptly from joking, however, to my lips twisting again in even moreconcern. Not because of who or what he is, or even who and what I am, or that he’s leaving but because of what he’s just told me. The why. I can’t even… imagine. I grew up with only one parent, and I was perfectly okay with that. There was no grieving the Father I didn’t have, because he was never there to be missed and wouldn’t have warranted the emotion thanks to the general abandonment. But my Mother? I can’t even imagine what losing her would do to me. Disregarding his coffee, and even the bottle of chocolate milk I’m holding there’s an abrupt, and honestly just a hair too fast moment to yank Tim in for a hug. Whether he really wants one or not. It’s happening. And though I take great care to not crush him, I’m not letting him get away either.

“Oh, Tim. I’m so, so sorry.”

Not until I’ve said that, at least, and can let go and while clearing my throat straighten my skirt that doesn’t really need it. Just something to do with my hands in what feels like a very awkward, should be doing more kind of moment. At least until I process what he just said. And then what that means, and I find myself clearing my throat again and answering a great deal more primly this time.

“Ahem. We have a very. Very good squad. And it’s better for the overall drama level in my life if I let them think that’s not because of me. But. No. I don’t make the routines and … yeah. His ego is a little bit ridiculous.”

I won’t say ‘can you blame him?’ because yeah, you really can but at least I understand where it comes from. Managing it is part of my full time job. I’m a little surprised Tim saw that, or even remembers it. Hell I barely did until he brought it up right now, but it’s just one of many events that kind of blurs together for me in the parade of time I spend pretending really hard to be normal. Sighing, I rub the bridge of my nose for a moment.

“You brought a white noise generator? You may as well be putting up a big flashing ‘S’ with the caption ‘pay attention to me!’ going up. Ugh. Look. Here’s what you need to do.”

Not a question of whether or not I can distract him, or keep him out of Gotham, though it gives me a focus instead of being really outwardly upset for my friend right now. Conner’s never seemed to care at all about what goes on there, so hopefully keeping his focus out of it won’t be difficult.

“Get him a birthday present and send it once you get settled. No. I know. It’s not his birthday. It can be an early one. Late. It doesn’t really matter. That’s what we’re planning right now.”

Tim: “I wouldn’t know, to tell you the truth. No one has ever tried that with me.” If the other times I’ve paused were for effect, this time it’s for honest consideration of the question. “To tell you the truth, I’ve never made the effort to have it tried on me to begin with. This might actually qualify as the longest discussion that I’ve ever had with a girl that didn’t involve me trying to explain the science behind why they were wrong…. uuuurk…”

For anyone else it might be awkward, but for me it’s a little comical to see how I’m taken from graceful as a cat to smooshed against the abnormally muscular blonde. If being crushed was a concern, then I’d make an effort to escape but I’ve seen her at work with all those powers of her’s. She’s practiced at not killing people. I know this for a fact, because her classmate Kelsey still walks around with all of her natural born teeth. What actually worries me is the fact that I’m making an effort to stay neutral, to keep myself balanced and focused. Something I’ve accomplished mostly by not being forced to confront everything going on. At least. Not in public.

Once released I’m only to happy to let her go about straightening herself out. After all it means a moment to do the same for myself. Putting dark clothes back in to the perfect order of someone with obsessive compulsive disorder. Including the six strands of hair that she mussed in the process.

“It’s not that good,” her team I mean. “Neither is our basketball team. There isn’t a lot of motivation to excel when your allowance exceeds most of the competition’s income. That’s why you stand out. Both of you. To anyone trained to look past the surface.”

“Birthday present. Check and done.’ I’m not even asking why, it goes right back to the earlier topic of ego. “I probably shouldn’t mention the saturated, low-band ultra-violet radiation that I’m generating to protect against enhance vision… you know what, never mind, point taken. Suspicious boyfriend. Got it.”

“Ouch. Bat-signal joke. Too soon, Cassie. Too soon.” Giving her a soft ‘punch’ on the shoulder, I take the first step towards moving away from her. “I’m teasing. It was funny. And true. I didn’t think about him being jealous, I’m a couple steps off my normal game, I guess. Should have considered that going dark for a clandestine meeting between his girlfriend and his roguishly handsome chum might make him jump to conclusions.”

“Thanks though. For keeping him out of Gotham. And. Y’know. Keeping him from …” Two fingers pointing at my own eyes, then making a little Fwoooosh sound as I point around. “… you’re the M.V.P. in my eyes. That’s why I came to you and why I’ll be there if you ever need help too.”

Cassie : “I’d say we could try to dial it back a little but… on the amazing scale, it’s hard enough keeping him at a three when what he really wants to be is eleven. You know. To match where he is in his own mind.”

Maybe I ought to feel guilty for ragging on my boyfriend when he’s not here to defend himself, but it’s not untrue. Besides. I rag on him to his face all the time, it just doesn’t make much of an impact. Reference comment about the awesome scale and his ego, and there’s not all that many moments in life when he couldn’t potentially be listening in. Which, really, is why the noise generator was a bad idea but there’s the possibility he’s not paying attention in the first place. We’ll hope for that. And I do actually appreciate the input about us standing out, all the rest aside.

I’d rather we didn’t. Or at least I didn’t, but Conner’s the President’s son and he’s going to have attention on him regardless. He’s supposed to excel and my mother would frankly be disappointed in me if I didn’t. Just not maybe in the same arenas, and for the same reasons. Given my parentage… the other half of it… I guess someone might say I’m supposed to be just as notable.

“…ugh, really? Well. I guess we better make this quick then.”

Quicker than I’d like to, given that he’s leaving and who knows when/if I’ll see him again if we’re supposed to stay out of Gotham. And unlike my other half? I’m going to accept that’s best on Tim’s word, and that alone. Until I’m told otherwise. I’d give him the tour just for that, but he’s probably got to get going, and I need to get back to school.

I actually cringe when he points out the reference in my joke, because I actually hadn’t thought of it quite like that. I should have. It was insensitive, and I look apologetic even though Tim says it was actually funny. I don’t even point out that there’s no way Conner’s actually going to be jealous, because ego blow on top of the loss of Bruce Wayne, and everything else? That’s just poor form, and he’s my friend. I wouldn’t even do something like that to Kelsey. Suspicious? Yes, he would be just because he’s being pointedly kept out of whatever we’re doing here. But jealous? Conner thinks/knows he’s the best thing on the planet and that no one else can compete with him. And while I can’t say Tim isn’t really cute? I’ve kind of only got eyes for my Superboy.

“And we don’t want conclusions being jumped to. Because. Yeah.”

Mimicking his eye-laser gesture, without the sound, before I let out a laugh that’s just a hair on the tense side. But that’s mostly for his sake, rather than any of what’s going on right here in the moment.

“Those. But. You’re welcome. I’ll do everything I can. On both fronts. Text me when you get there? And… every so often otherwise so I know you’re okay? I’ll miss you. He’ll miss you, so just try to come up with something to fire his way if you can.”

As ‘okay’ as he’s likely to be, anyway. Alive. Breathing.