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Roy figured that fixing Dinah's car was the least he could do. Dinah was giving him food and the loan of her sofa. Replacing her radiator hose for her was a no-brainer.
Or it would have been, before muscle cramps meant his hands were shaking so badly he'd already spilled anti-freeze onto the pavement of her driveway.
Head under the hood and hands resting on either side of the engine, he took a deep breath and did his best to concentrate. He could think about the scary stuff like the need to find an apartment and a job later. For now, he had to get on with fixing Dinah's car, so Ollie wouldn't feel the need to take over and do it himself.
Fuck Ollie.
He couldn't be in Dinah's house when Ollie was there and he couldn't ask Dinah to keep him away. The only option was for Roy to leave - which was difficult when he'd shot his entire trust fund into his veins.
And he shouldn't have thought that because it just brought back all the memories he'd been repressing. He didn't want to remember how good it felt, how comforting, how safe, how-
"Roy?"
He slammed his head on the hood as he jerked up. "Dick?"
Dick's smile was too big, too casual and Roy's stomach clenched with suspicion. "Hi."
"Hi." Roy leaned against the car and wiped his hands on his shirt. "This is a surprise. Just passing on your way back to college, were you?"
Dick's smile deflated. "No." He looked at his shoes. "Ollie called."
"Really." Roy's voice was flat.
"He told me... What you've been through."
"Probably calling everybody we know. Got to make sure they know what a screw-up I am."
"It wasn't like that," Dick objected.
"No?"
"He thought I might be able to help you."
Roy shut his eyes for a moment. "Dinah helped," he said. "So did Hal. Now I'm doing just fine."
"I'm sorry, Roy."
Roy had to swallow down his anger. "Don't be sorry for me, okay? I was stupid. I've beaten it. Now I just need to get my life back." Well, a life. Any life would do.
"Bruce is out of town for a month," Dick said. "I could use some help in Gotham."
Roy paused. "Guess you should come in, then."
Wayne Manor was too big. He'd been scared it would remind him of the old mansion, with Ollie, but it was dark and gloomy and there was Alfred looking at him like he was something the cat had thrown up on a priceless Persian rug. "Hi," Roy said.
Alfred managed to look even more English as he inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Master Roy. Master Dick has requested your presence in the library."
Roy was willing to bet those weren't Dick's exact words. He looked around his assigned bedroom and figured he'd unpack later. "So," Roy said, following Alfred down the stairs, "I guess Dick's told you about me."
"I believe you are here to recuperate from illness, while assisting Master Dick with his patrols."
"Illness. Yeah." Roy's mouth twisted. "Guess you could call it that."
"Yes," Alfred said and his voice was so much warmer that Roy had to turn to look at him. "You could."
Roy was still thinking about that when Alfred opened one of the many doors and stood back for Roy to enter. The door shut behind him and he jumped. "I thought Jeeves was going to be joining us," he said.
Dick smiled. "Alfred's got five million other things to do. Even without Bruce being here." He studied Roy. "Sorry I couldn't meet you at the airport. There was a-" He cleared his throat. "I had to work."
"Drug ring. You can say it. It's not like the mention of heroin's going to bring it all back." Only it did. Roy dropped onto a hard, leather couch before Dick could see him trembling.
"I'm sorry," Dick said.
"Stop saying it." Roy buried his face in his hands and pretended he wasn't shaking. He could keep up the pretence until Dick settled next to him, put his arm round Roy's shoulders.
"Then stop lying," Dick said and his voice was matter-of-fact. "We both know you're here to get over the addiction. We both know it's going to be hard. You might have survived the cold turkey but that's not all of the physical, never mind the psychological."
"Been reading up on it?" Roy said bitterly, without looking up.
"Yes. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. If I'd known what was going on, you might never have-" He stopped short and Roy looked up.
"Might never have ended up a junkie?" A breath of bitter laughter. "Man, so that's why you're helping. You're blaming yourself."
"I'm helping because I'm your friend."
"Well, if you're my friend, you'd better point me to the nearest AIDS clinic."
Dick froze. "You- You shared needles?"
"No. I was never quite that stupid."
"But then-" He watched realization slowly creep across Dick's face. "You-"
"Some dealers don't want cash, Dick. Or not just cash. They want the rich kid on his knees, sucking their cocks. And then the money runs out and..."
"Roy." Dick sounded as though he'd been punched in the gut.
"Yeah." Roy's smile was unnaturally bright, stretched painfully across his face. "Not just a junkie. A hooker too. Ollie never told you that, did he?"
"No." Dick took his arm off Roy's shoulders and it felt so damn cold. "He didn't." Dick was silent for a moment. "Does he know?"
"No." Roy stared out the window. "Want me to leave?"
"Of course not." Dick's reaction sounded reassuringly genuine.
"You sure? I mean, I could understand if you did."
"Roy, you're my friend." There was a pause and Dick put his arm back round Roy's shoulders. "But I think you'd be better off going to a proper doctor, not a clinic."
Roy shut his eyes. "No money, Dick." And he felt lousy for it but he hoped - knew - that Dick would offer to pay.
"I'll pay," Dick said. "I'll get you in tomorrow."
And Roy knew he should argue, say he didn't want to be a burden but there was the chance Dick would believe him. "Thanks," he said and dropped his head.
Roy pushed his hands between his knees and tensed. The waiting room was beige, with pot plants and glossy magazines and leather armchairs. There was only one other person in there, a blonde receptionist with glasses probably carefully chosen to make her look intelligent. They failed, he decided with angry satisfaction.
He picked up a magazine but it was talking about Oliver Queen's decision to run for mayor of Star City and he tossed it back with disgust.
"Mr. Harper?" the receptionist said. "Dr Pelzer will see you now."
Pelzer was a middle-aged black woman with close-cropped grey hair. She looked up from her notes and smiled impersonally as Roy came in. "Mr. Harper. Would you like to tell me what the problem is?"
"I need an AIDS test," Roy said and waited for some emotion to show on her face.
She just said, "Mm-hmm," and hit a few keys on her keyboard. "Is this a routine test or do you believe yourself to be at risk?"
"I had unprotected sex. With a hell of a lot of men."
Still nothing. "Right. In that case, we'll test for a few other things as well. Normally I'd suggest you make an appointment with the phlebotomist but it's sensible to get the blood sent off as soon as possible. Do you understand the process of testing for HIV?"
"Enough," Roy said shortly.
"Right." Pelzer pulled a trolley towards her and removed a phial. "If the initial test comes back positive, your blood will be tested again, using a different process. If that comes back positive, there'll be a third test. It's only if all three are positive that you'll be confirmed as HIV positive. Do you understand that?"
Roy nodded as she came round to his side of the desk, tourniquet in hand.
"Do you have any problems with needles?"
Roy's mouth twisted. "No phobias, if that's what you mean." He shoved his sleeve up and watched her look at the track marks.
"I see," she said, after a moment. He'd expected her to be rough with the tourniquet after seeing the marks, but she was surprisingly gentle, even as she brought up a vein and slid the needle in.
It was strange, watching his blood easing into the tube. Almost hypnotic and he was disappointed when she removed the needle and quickly taped a cotton ball over the test site.
"You'll need to be tested again in six months time," she said, labeling the bottle. She looked up through her bangs. "And if you continue having unprotected sex - or sharing needles - you'll need to be tested every six months, at least."
"I've never shared needles," Roy said.
"Good." She popped the bottle into an envelope and scribbled something on it. "If you want any help quitting, I can point you to some good organizations."
"I've quit," Roy said and felt a brief surge of something pleasant.
"Well done. The organizations can help you stay off it."
"I've got friends. They're helping."
Pelzer's expression was serious. "If you need any more help, just call. My receptionist will be able to put you in touch."
"Thanks," Roy said.
"The results will be ready in a week. I'd suggest you make an appointment to come in and discuss them."
"Yeah," Roy said. "I will."
Gotham seemed unusually pleasant as he stepped out of the brownstone. The air was scented with leaves, rather than pollution. It was enough to make him almost forget until he saw the homeless guy hunched into a doorway. He was cramped round himself and there was vomit on his tattered jacket. Roy swallowed and grubbed in his pocket for whatever cash he had.
"Hey," he said, crouching beside the man.
The man didn't say anything as Roy pressed the money into his hand but, as Roy walked away, he managed a cracked, "Thanks."
It was only when he was a few blocks away that Roy realized he didn't have a quarter to call Alfred to pick him up. Shit. Which left him to get a cab and hope Dick or Alfred would be willing to pay when he got out there. Double-shit.
His thoughts were interrupted by the old-fashioned black limousine pulling up alongside him. "Good morning, Master Roy," Alfred said. "I happened to be passing."
All the pleasantness of the morning left him. "Sure."
"Would you care for a ride home or do you have further plans in the city?"
It was tempting to tell Alfred to piss off but then he'd be back to being stuck in town, so he yanked the door open and slammed into the back seat. He shut the door hard enough to shake the car. He thought he saw sympathy in the side of Alfred's face and it just made him angrier.
They didn't even trust him to go to the doctor on his own.
Worst of it was, they were right not to trust him. He wasn't even capable of that. Fuck.
He rested his head against the window and paid no attention to the scenery going past.
When they pulled up outside the manor, Roy went straight to his room. He was curled up on the bed, clutching his pillow, when Dick rapped on his door and came in. "Alfred said he picked you up from the doctor. How'd it go?"
"Testing for HIV and hep B," Roy managed around the cramping pain.
Dick's hand was soft on his upper arm but it still hurt so much he had to bite his lip. "Withdrawal?" Dick asked.
"No. Got trampled by an elephant in the fucking hallway." He shouldn't lash out, he shouldn't. "What do you think?"
"I'm sor-"
"Stop saying it! Stop fucking saying it! I don't want your pity, I don't need it!"
Dick paused a moment then withdrew his hand and Roy couldn't ask him to put it back. "When you're hungry, just ring for Alfred and he'll bring you something. I'll be having dinner at seven, if you're up to it."
"Yeah," Roy said into his pillow.
Dick hovered and Roy didn't need to look at him to know he was frowning anxiously. Eventually, he left and Roy hugged his pillow tighter. How did you ask somebody to stay, just so you could hurl abuse at them?
It was dark when Roy woke. Even so, he knew there was somebody watching him. "Dick?"
"Yeah. Just wanted to see how you were. I'm heading out on patrol."
Roy sat up quickly. "You want me to come with you?"
There was an uncomfortable pause. "Probably best not to. Not tonight."
"Why?" Damn, he sounded pathetic.
"You've had a bad day." A pause and he heard the sound of Dick shifting in place. "And you don't know the city yet. And-" Dick sighed. "Okay, it's the drug ring. They've got a shipment of heroin coming in tonight. But it's up to you."
Roy slowly lay back. It was tempting to go with Dick anyway, pretend there wasn't a problem at all. But he knew how he'd feel with the crap right in front of him. "You're right," he said. "I'd better sit this one out. For now, anyway. Give me a few days."
"Yeah," Dick said, voice filled with relief. "A few days and you'll be kicking their asses."
"I'll head down to the kitchen and grab some food while you're out." Roy swung himself upright, wincing as his muscles protested.
"Sure." Dick moved easily in the dark but Roy stubbed his toe on the wall before he found the door. "Alfred's left some sandwiches in the fridge for you. TV's in the den and help yourself to any of the books in the library." Roy could hear Dick smile as he continued, "You'll be better off raiding my room if you want something other than deathly boring texts on criminology and forensics, though."
Dick bounced lightly down the stairs but Roy had to feel out every step. "Where are the light switches in this place?" he asked, after an unexpected stair nearly sent him flying.
"Whoops," Dick said. Roy had a brief impression of Dick running off and, a few moments later, the hallway was flooded with light. "Sorry," Dick said, standing by an impressively complicated panel of light switches. "If I've been down in the Cave for a while, I tend to forget."
"Sure," Roy said and he knew his voice was too flat. "Not a problem."
Dick glanced between the switches and Roy. "I'd try to explain them to you but... Probably easier to just let Alfred turn them off." Dick tapped his thigh. "Anything else?"
Roy shook his head.
"Right, I'm off." He paused, too close to Roy. "I'll give them hell."
Roy stepped back. "Sure."
Roy had half-expected Alfred to be lurking in the kitchen but there was no sign of him. It made it more comfortable to root around in the fridge. There were a couple of plates of sandwiches, complete with little flags proclaiming their fillings. Roy kind of wished Ollie had had an Alfred. He'd wanted everything else Batman had - including the kid sidekick - but he'd never managed to pick up an Alfred. An Alfred would have been much more use than a sidekick.
He helped himself to a couple of tuna mayo sandwiches and a glass of cranberry juice. Not that he actually wanted anything but if he didn't eat, Dick'd just look all disappointed at him. Roy didn't think he could cope with that.
Besides, food would be a distraction. And he needed distracting.
Perhaps it had been a bad idea to come here. Dinah had understood that the heroin had given comfort, made him feel worthwhile and, fuck it, loved. And she'd been warm and comforting, even when he'd tried to fight her off, and she'd smelled good.
When she didn't smell like Ollie.
Roy let himself slump on to the floor next to the fridge and took a bite of his sandwich. It tasted like cardboard and he chewed it mechanically before washing it down with a mouthful of juice. He was even more alone here than he was at Dinah's.
"In this house," Alfred said, "it is customary to sit at a table to eat."
Roy jumped. "Jesus. Did Batman train you or something?"
"On the contrary." Alfred took Roy's glass and plate and placed them on the table. "I trained him. Would you care for some salad?"
"No."
There was an expectant pause and when Roy finally looked up, Alfred was staring at him, one eyebrow raised.
"No, thanks."
"Have an apple."
Roy brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms round them. "I don't want anything."
Alfred's voice was hard when he spoke. "You are here to recover from an illness. That requires a nutritious diet. I am going to ensure that you follow that diet."
"So you can get rid of me quicker."
"No." Roy was surprised by the softness in Alfred's eyes. "So you can return to health. Now sit at the table and eat properly."
Roy hadn't actually intended to obey but he found himself sitting at the table, finishing his sandwiches. "Got any beer?"
Alfred's expression said it all.
Roy grinned reluctantly. "Worth a try."
"Do you have any plans for the evening?"
"Thought I'd watch TV for a bit. Do you have cable here?"
"Of course." Alfred wiped an already immaculate surface. "I took the liberty of removing your archery equipment to the basement. There are a variety of targets available."
Roy rested his head in his hands. "I'm not up to it. Not tonight. Really."
Alfred's fingers were dry and impersonal on his wrist. "Your pulse is rather unsteady. But I can assure you that I will not allow you to accompany Master Dick until you've proved yourself on the training equipment."
"You're going to lock me in?" Roy asked skeptically.
"I have kept Master Bruce from going out." There was a hint of amusement at the back of Alfred's voice. "You will present no difficulty."
Roy snorted and wished he hadn't as it jolted aching muscles. "Do Dick and Bruce know how lucky they are?"
There was a long pause. "I believe they do," Alfred finally said. "Now eat your apple."
Roy spent the evening in the cave. The pull on his bow seemed impossibly heavy but his accuracy was still there. It was a relief to find something that tied him to before, back when life had been simple.
He just needed to build up his muscle again and he could be his old self. Maybe even get back in touch with Donna.
When he looked up from the weights and wiped the sweat from his eyes, there was a pasta salad and a glass of milk next to him, and he decided to work on a plan to kidnap Alfred.
The next evening, Roy pulled on his Speedy costume and tried not to notice how loose it was. Instead, he tightened the straps on his quiver and headed downstairs, half-expecting Alfred to stop him.
Dick was half-changed and putting on his boots with the kind of unconscious flexibility that left Roy trapped somewhere between envy and desire. For now, he deliberately made a noise as he jumped down the last few steps.
Dick looked up with a smile that faltered as he saw Roy. "You're planning on coming out tonight?" he said after a moment.
Roy shrugged. "Why not? My archery scores are as good as they ever were. And I am here to help out while Bruce is gone. Aren't I?" He hadn't meant it to come out quite as challenging as it did.
"Sure you are," Dick said. But he said it as he turned away to put his mask on.
Roy hunched his shoulders against the pain for a long moment, then turned away himself to collect his bow. "How are we traveling?"
"Batmobile. What else?"
"He lets you drive it?" Roy said, not mentioning the motorcycle helmet that was sitting on the bench next to Dick's cape.
"Says the man who was driving the Arrowcar before he hit puberty."
"I had a booster seat," Roy said, and wondered if the banter felt as painfully awkward to Dick as it did to him.
But Dick fastened his cape and pressed something on his belt that made the Batmobile's doors open smoothly. "Ready to hit the town?"
For a brief moment, Roy thought of ducking off once they were in the city; of finding some dealer and beating his supplies out of him; of hiding in a corner and losing himself in the chemical safety. But he managed a grin and resettled his bow in his hand. "Ready when you are, Boy Wonder."
The Batmobile was impossibly low and sleek and complicated, and the seat hugged Roy close as Dick flung it round corners and over bumps. "Any particular plans for tonight?" Roy managed to say without losing his dinner.
"Amusement Mile, to start with. Somebody's targeting the working girls. No murder yet but his violence is escalating. It's just a matter of time."
Roy shut his eyes. If it wasn't drugs, of course it had to be prostitution. "Then let's get the bastard."
Dick glanced over. "Are you going to be okay with this?"
"I'll be fine," he said automatically. Then, "Let me talk to them, okay?"
"I normally..." Dick shrugged. "When I'm with Bruce, I normally do this kind of talking. I'm a kid. I'm not threatening."
You're not a kid, Roy thought. You'll realize it some day soon. And those girls already know it. But he said, "They'll talk to me. More than they'll talk to you."
"Did-" Dick started but he stopped.
"Did I ever get beaten up? Yes." And he hadn't actually cared, as long as he got paid. He figured these girls weren't too much different.
"I wish I'd known," Dick said, so quiet that Roy could hardly hear him.
"I'm glad you didn't."
Dick let the Batmobile ease to a stop in an alley. "Roy-"
"Don't." Roy took a deep breath. "Let's just do our job."
The first girl narrowed her eyes and took a firmer grip on her bag's strap when she spotted him. She'd have a brick in there, weapon of choice for most of the hookers he'd known, but not something the rentboys could easily carry. "Hey," he said. "Name's Speedy."
She didn't relax but her mouth quirked in something that, ten years ago, had been a smile. "Kind of name we like for a john."
"Tell me about it," he said. "Give me a twenty second fuck-and-go over a half-hour grunter any day."
He could feel her re-evaluating him. "You working?" she asked. "Cause the pitches round here are all owned. Gonna have to go somewhere else."
"I'm working," he said, "but not in that field. I'm with Batman."
"What happened to the brightly colored kid?" She was starting to relax but was still watchful. "He was sweet. Always polite."
"He grew up," Roy said wryly. "Look, I'm hearing there's a violent john doing the rounds. You know anyone who'd speak to me about him?"
She snorted. "Like there's only one who gets off on beating up working girls."
"There's only one who's going to kill soon. I don't want that to happen."
She hefted her bag and sighed. "I'm making no promises but try speaking to Cherry. She works the bodega three blocks down. Blonde kid, scrawny, usually wears red."
"Thanks." He started to walk away but paused and looked back. "Take care of yourself."
"Sure, kid. It's what I do all night."
His own patch had been darker than these streets but it was still too familiar as he headed towards the bodega. Movement in dark corners and assessing looks and the ones who were too strung out to even notice him.
A girl who had to be Cherry was leaning by the door of the bodega, smoking a clove cigarette. Her hair - wig, Roy corrected himself - was a blonde flapper bob and her lips were outlined too precisely in too dark a red. She couldn't be eighteen yet but she had a half-bottle of whisky in her hand.
"Cherry?" he said, and watched her come to artificial life.
"Hey," she said in a hoarse, lazy voice, a horrible parody of seduction. "You looking for a good time, baby?"
"Not quite. I'm looking for information."
Her eyes narrowed in hazy suspicion. "What kind?"
Roy leaned against the wall next to her and made sure his hands were visible. "I hear you had trouble with a john lately. Man with a vicious streak."
"They've all got a vicious streak. Got one in mind?"
"The one who choked you so hard you can hardly speak." Roy raised an eyebrow. "Could only have been in the last couple of days?"
She took a deep drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke at Roy. "That one. What do you want to know?"
"When. Where. What he looked like." Roy shrugged. "Anything that'll help me bring him down. I'm easy."
"You're one of the superhero crowd?"
He glanced at the sidewalk. "On my good days."
She seemed to consider it. "Two nights ago. Picked me up in his car and took me somewhere. It was dark. I didn't see him. Didn't see where we were." She cocked her head. "Do you know Superman?"
Roy smiled, more at himself than her. "I know him. I wouldn't say we're friends. Can you remember anything at all? Smells? Type of car?"
"It was one of them big Lincolns. But old, beaten up. White." She seemed to think. "We didn't go far, only ten, fifteen minutes. And I could hear something. Don't know what but a kind of clanking, slapping. Like a cable hitting against something."
It made Roy wish he actually knew Gotham's layout, but Dick would know. "Great, you're a star."
He was turning away, when she said, "Think he could ever be interested in a chick like me? Superman, I mean."
Roy thought about it. "Y'know, I'm not even sure if he likes women." He shrugged. "Alien. Who knows?"
He heard her laughing as he left, a harsh gurgle that made his stomach turn.
Bastard, he thought, and tried to work out whether he wanted to throw up because of the case or because of the withdrawal.
He made his way to the top of the nearest building and wasn't surprised to find Dick waiting for him. He passed on the information and watched while Dick absently turned somersaults and tied himself in knots while he put the clues together.
Dick finally stopped, standing on one hand. "It's got to be the yacht basin. I'll bet she heard somebody's halyards. It's the right kind of distance, too."
"Wonder if that's where he took them all?" Roy said, and Dick flipped on to his feet.
"Let's find out. Meet you back here in an hour?"
"Person with the least info buys pizza," Roy said, and Dick dived off the roof.
By the time they met up, Roy had found four more girls who'd been attacked. Dick said he'd found three.
"He's not regular about it," Dick said, comparing dates. "He'll go more than a week, then it's three in two days."
"But he does keep on getting worse." Roy shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore his cramping muscles.
"There's got to be something dictating the dates," Dick said. "Otherwise there'd be more regular timing."
"Work, maybe?" Roy said.
Dick looked up quickly. "Maybe he works on one of the yachts."
Roy nodded. "It fits."
"Let's get down to the offices. Check the accounts and see which yachts were in on the dates in question." Dick shot his line and paused on the parapet. "You're doing well, Roy," he said and then he was gone.
"Patronizing little bastard," Roy muttered but he couldn't keep from smiling as he swung after Dick, no matter how much pain he was in.
When he caught up with Dick, he was crouching on the roof of the marina offices. "Reasonable security," Dick said.
"Are we going to have to leave it?" Roy said and tried not to sound hopeful. He wasn't going to admit just how pathetically weak he was.
Dick grinned. "Not a chance. Security guard hasn't looked up from his TV while I've been here and we're already past the cameras. I'll just have to jam the infra-red."
Roy tried to match Dick's grin. "After you, then. You're the expert at sneaking."
Dick slipped over the edge of the roof and, a few moments later, Roy followed. Dick already had the window open and was edging towards the motion detectors. Roy crouched on the window ledge and tried to breathe.
The room was swaying but Dick was nearly at the motion sensor and he just had to hold on, keep upright. His costume was suddenly soaked with sweat and he'd bitten his lip so hard there was blood flooding his mouth.
"Dick," he said, or thought he said, and then he was falling into the room and at first he thought the screeching and howling was just in his head but Dick swore and Roy was over his shoulder, out the window, and the stinking air was moving past so fast that Roy threw up and it took a year to reach the Batmobile.
Roy curled up on the ground. "My bow," he said. "I've lost it."
"Screw your bow," Dick said, and he sounded somewhere between scared and furious. "Why didn't you say?"
"Didn't-" He had to stop for a moment, let the cramps ripple through him. "Didn't want to cause trouble." He looked up, watched Dick unfasten his cape and use the clean side to wipe Roy's vomit off his legs. "Sorry."
"Are you okay for the ride home?"
It was automatic to say yes but Roy closed his eyes. "Give me a few minutes."
He felt Dick crouch next to him. His hand on Roy's arm hurt but it was reassuring and that made up for the pain. "I can't let you come out with me again."
The pain was suddenly much worse.
"Not until-" He could hear Dick swallow. "Until this won't happen."
"Didn't mean to fuck up the case."
Dick stroked his hair and didn't seem put off by the sweat. "You didn't. It'll just take a bit longer to get the information." He seemed to be thinking out loud. "I'll hack in later and see if they keep the info on the computers. If not, I'll come back in a day or so and break in."
And how many girls would be attacked between now and Dick finally getting his hands on the information he needed? If Roy thought about it much more, he was going to be sick again.
He forced himself to uncurl. "Let's get back to the cave, then, so you can get to work."
Roy didn't wake until the afternoon. He didn't bother changing into anything more substantial than his pajama pants before heading downstairs, each step making him feel like he was sixty.
Alfred met him at the bottom of the stairs, holding a tray of sandwiches, cookies and a jug of milk. "I was just about to take lunch to Master Dick in the basement. Perhaps you would care to substitute for me?"
Roy managed a smile. "Sure, Alfred." No matter how much his muscles were aching, he damn well could
manage a tray.
Although, standing at the top of the stairs to the cave, he didn't remember there being quite so many. Oh, well. Consider it training. Alfred probably did.
The first few step were easy enough. By halfway down, his arms were trembling. Ten steps from the end and he nearly put the tray down. But he damn well could make it.
He was shooting arrows and swinging from buildings last night, which meant he could carry a fucking tray right now. Especially because Dick had turned and was looking up at him.
And Dick had shadows under his eyes and was still wearing his Robin uniform, which meant he hadn't been to bed since they got in.
Shit.
"Alfred sent you food," Roy said.
Dick's smile was tired but still bright. "Is it that late?"
"It's past two. I'm surprised he hasn't hauled you upstairs to eat something real." Roy almost dropped the tray on to the desk next to Dick. "Find anything useful?"
"I think so. I've got a list of the yachts that were in on all the dates in question." He slid a list towards Roy. "Unfortunately, there's a lot of them. I'm just cross-referencing against those that were out during our gaps."
"Is there any way of telling which had people on board on the red letter days? Checking power consumption or something?"
"Good idea." Dick ran his hands through his hair. "I should have thought of it."
"Get some sleep, Dick," Roy said.
"I-"
"I know, you've got to protect Gotham or Bruce'll glare at you when he gets back. You can't protect the dump when you're wiped." He held out his hand. "Give me the info. I'll go through it while you're sleeping."
Dick yawned. "You're right, I know." He grasped Roy's hand and hauled himself upright. Roy made the effort not to let the pain show. "You know what you're looking for?"
"Yeah. Now go, shortpants." He slapped Dick's ass and instantly wished he hadn't. It was the sort of thing Ollie did, not Bruce, and Dick was looking at him with confusion. "Scat. Bed."
"Sure," Dick said. He didn't make a noise as he left.
Roy rubbed his eyes and settled down to work. Three hours later and the pattern was clear.
Oystercatcher was a big motor cruiser with a full-time skipper. It was also the only boat that had been in and using power and water on each of the red letter days and out during all the quiet spells.
And it had come in the night before and was still in its berth.
He did stop to think about calling Dick down. It would be the sensible thing to do.
But he wanted to kick the shit out of this man who would beat up someone already in the gutter.
It only took a few minutes to change into his costume, still smelling of sweat and vomit from last night, and then he was on Dick's bike and out of the cave and the wind was cold against his face and in his hair and blowing through his shirt.
He got to the yacht basin just in time to see a grubby white Lincoln pull out of the parking lot. He glanced towards the boats, wondering which was the Oystercatcher, and then he twisted the throttle and followed the Lincoln.
It went straight to Amusement Mile and didn't slow down until it was outside Cherry's bodega. Roy watched her shrink back into the shadows as it passed, and then she saw him and a grin spread across her face.
He smiled back and lifted his hand. Nice to think he was somebody's hero, even if it was a strung-out kid with a wreck of a life. He dropped back, turned off his lights and waited until he saw a girl getting into the Lincoln. Another kid, this one with a minuscule vinyl skirt and scarred legs.
Roy stretched his hands, revved the bike's engine and followed the Lincoln.
It was ten minutes until they were back near the yacht basin but the Lincoln didn't turn into the parking lot. Instead, it pulled into a service entrance. After a second's thought, Roy parked the bike and followed on foot.
It was the right decision. The Lincoln was parked just inside the entrance, in a shadowed corner surrounded by random bits of nautical crap. It only took a moment to find a suitable length of chain to wrap around his fist.
He was breathing heavily. He was going to get this bastard back. Get back every bastard who'd ever thought money bought everything. He drew back his fist.
The driver's window shattered under his punch and he caught a brief glimpse of a thickset, balding man with his hands around a kid's throat before the door slammed open, knocking him backwards.
"Little punk!" the man snarled and Roy rolled, pushed, and he was upright. The chain was still around his fist, an impromptu knuckleduster, and it gave him the courage to lunge in and punch at the bastard's throat.
His arm was knocked away and he had to throw himself backwards to escape the follow-up kick.
This man was good, he realized.
Possibly too good for Roy to take on while his muscles were burning and his head was fuzzy.
Fuck.
But he flung himself in again, ducked past and punched behind him, aiming for the bastard's kidneys. It was only a glancing blow but the chain gave him more weight. He let it slip from his fist, streaming free to give him a distance weapon. He didn't want to close with this bastard.
But he was fast, as well as strong, and Roy had to stumble backwards and, fuck, the bastard wrenched the chain out of his hand and was swinging it at him. Another step backwards, ducking to the side to avoid the vicious swing of the chain. Not fast enough and the chain ripped across his right arm, sending a splash of blood across the pavement.
He didn't have time to think, had to rely on instinct, and rush forward, punch with his left arm, and it wasn't enough because the bastard had his hands around Roy's throat and Roy couldn't breathe.
And then there was a batarang buried in the bastard's arm and he staggered away from Roy. A moment later, Dick dropped out of nowhere with a kick that sent the bastard flying.
Roy shut his eyes and listened to the thuds and cracks and occasional cries of pain.
And then he knew Dick was crouching next to him. It was a long moment before Dick said, "I've got the Batmobile. Time to go home."
The faint pressure of Dick's hand on his arm and Roy jerked away. "Don't touch me!"
Dick just moved after him. "Is it badly hurt?"
"Fuck's sake, I could be positive. Get back."
Dick rested his hand on Roy's shoulder. "Alfred can fix up your arm."
Get the fuck away, Roy tried to say but he couldn't make himself do it. "The girl. In the car. Where is she?" His voice was hoarse and he wondered what damage the bastard had done. Probably no more than Roy had done to himself.
"She'd gone when I got here."
Roy opened his eyes. "Okay."
Dick helped him to his feet, so damn solicitous of his ripped arm and the state of his throat. The Batmobile was blocking the service entrance and it felt good to sag into the firm embrace of the passenger seat. "Will Bruce kill me for getting blood on the seats?"
"Wipe clean," Dick said. "It's not the first time someone's bled on them."
But probably not such dangerous blood. "Wake me when we get there," Roy said, and shut his eyes. He didn't sleep.
The antiseptic stung but Alfred didn't apologize. His touch was firm and professional and not in the least sympathetic. Roy didn't miss that Alfred took the sensible precautions of a mask and latex gloves, and wished Dick had done the same.
"Dick hasn't called me an idiot," Roy said. "Why don't you do it? I can tell you want to."
"Idiot is not a strong enough word," Alfred said. "You endangered yourself, but I am accustomed to that. You also endangered the case and every potential victim out there. All out of some infantile desire to prove your self-sufficiency."
People had been too caring. It was a relief to hear the truth.
"When it is perfectly obvious that you are not self-sufficient and extremely unlikely to be so in the near future."
Roy managed a twisted smile. "Guess I'm not going out again any time soon?"
"As you no longer have a uniform," Alfred said, removing his gloves with a snap, "you will not be indulging in superheroics without my explicit blessing."
Roy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Thanks."
"You can, however, resume your training immediately," Alfred said. "There are a selection of bows for you to choose from."
A week later and this time the doctor's waiting room was busy. A man in a suit was reading the Wall Street Journal while a perfectly-preserved middle-aged woman, dripping with wealth, read a novel in French. Roy unfolded his copy of Spin and enjoyed the feel of the woman looking down her nose at him.
He'd scandalize her even more if she knew why he was here. An HIV+ smack whore in her waiting room! It made him kind of tempted to tell her but, at that moment, the receptionist cleared her throat.
"Mr. Harper? Dr Pelzer will see you now."
Dr Pelzer looked up as soon as he pushed open her office door. She smiled. "Mr. Harper, good news."
He hadn't even let himself think about this possibility. Hadn't let himself think he could be lucky enough to come out of it clean. He sat down with a thud. "Negative?"
She narrowed her eyes a little. "Negative." She raised a hand. "It's not absolute proof that you're clear because there is a margin of error in the tests but, yes, negative. For HIV and hepatitis B."
Roy absently rubbed the trackmarks on his arm. "Wow. I." He had to bite his lip, hard. "Thanks."
"You're going to need to be tested again in six months, and I'd recommend you get yourself tested every six months after that." She was silent for a moment and, when she spoke, her voice was soft. "How are you doing with quitting?"
"I've quit," Roy said.
She studied him for a long moment. "There are easier ways to do it than just going cold turkey, you know."
"I know." And he hadn't known but he didn't deserve a soft option. "I've quit."
And now her voice was hard. "When did you stop taking it?"
He shrugged and looked at his hands. "Month or so ago."
"Still getting the muscle and bone pain? Muscle spasms? Insomnia? Or is just blood pressure, pulse and body temperature out of control by now?"
"I don't want any help!" He hadn't meant to shout.
"You're that sure you're not going back?"
Roy thought of Ollie's face, of Dinah and Hal believing in him. "I'm that sure." Thought of Dick.
Roy wasn't sure where he'd gone after leaving the doctor's office. He'd just walked. And, considering this was Gotham, he was probably lucky to still be capable of walking. But now it was nearly dark and he was standing outside a bar and why the hell not?
"ID," the bouncer said grimly and Roy handed over the proof that his name was Isaac Catchley and he'd been born nearly twenty-two years ago. The bouncer looked suspicious but he stepped back and gestured Roy in.
Roy shut his eyes for a moment as he stepped into the bar. The darkness and dizzying lights felt reassuring; Nirvana's Teen Spirit pounded like an extra heartbeat, just in case his own stopped. Yeah, it felt good.
He headed towards the bar, eyeing up the women with a glorious sense of freedom. He hid a smile as some of them obviously eyed him back. He'd spent too long in that mausoleum of a manor, forgotten just how damn good it could feel to live in a city. Strange a week could be so long.
He ordered a cheap, domestic beer and leaned back against the bar to watch. It was Friday night and the clientele were out to enjoy it. And, apparently, the bouncers weren't fussy about ID for girls because some of them looked barely eighteen.
Some of them, however, didn't. The brassy blonde was approaching thirty as fast as she was approaching him. "Haven't seen you before," she shouted over the music.
Roy shrugged. "Haven't been before." She leaned in close to hear him and he got a good view down her top.
"Can I get you a drink?"
"Sure. Vodka." Gigolo was a step up from rentboy, he thought, and smiled lazily at her. The barman gave him a scornful look as he splashed vodka onto ice. He'd have looked even more disgusted a few weeks ago, Roy thought, and it gave him the confidence to look right back.
"I'm Candi," the woman shouted. "You?"
"Roy," he said and emptied his glass.
Candi grinned. "I'll get you another."
He let her. And, an hour or so later, he let her steer him into a cab and take him back to her apartment.
It was what he would have expected, if he'd cared enough to think about it. Slightly dingy, slightly too small, and energetically stamped with the personality Candi liked to think was hers.
"Want a drink?" Candi asked.
Roy shook his head. "Bedroom?"
"Sweet talker." Her smile, slightly blurred, made it clear she didn't mind.
He shrugged. "I know what I want." What he wanted was the oblivion and comfort of shooting up but he'd settle for an energetic fuck, so he followed Candi into her bedroom.
It took her seconds to unzip her dress and let it slither to the floor. Another couple of seconds for her to strip off bra and panties and kick off her shoes. The orange streetlights striped her skin, making her look almost exotic. Almost tempting.
He looked away, focused on taking off his own clothes before he started to think about things best left buried.
"Roy."
He looked up, surprised by the hint of a tremor in her voice.
"Just. I mean. I don't do this a lot, you know?"
"Hey." He kept his voice deep. Slow. Then he realized he sounded almost like Ollie. "It's okay." And it wasn't, because it made her more human. Made it harder to take the couple of steps towards her and lean down to kiss the side of her neck.
She sighed. Pressed up against him, and he ran his hand down her spine, rested it in the small of her back to hold her there, and let himself fall backwards on to the bed.
She lifted herself and grinned down at him. Opened her mouth to say something, so he pressed his finger against her lips, shook his head. She looked suspicious for a moment but then her grin widened and she rolled them over, her legs opening to cradle him.
All he wanted was to forget about her and lose himself in the willing body beneath him. But he was better than that now. He'd learned.
So he wriggled down her body until he could smell the musk of her, could feel the prickle of her carefully-trimmed hair against his lips. She was already breathing hard and when he slowly ran his tongue along her slit, she gasped, pushed against him.
And he did what was expected of him and ignored the shadow he'd glimpsed outside the window.
Roy took a deep breath of cold, garbage-scented air and tried not to jump as Dick stepped out of the corner.
"How long were you watching?" Roy asked.
Dick shrugged. "You okay?"
"Not an answer."
Dick looked away for a moment. "I was worried when you didn't come home. I tracked you down."
The breath Roy let out had nothing to do with laughter. "You thought I was back on the heroin."
"No," Dick said, too quickly. "I know you don't want tha-"
"Of course I want it!" Roy snapped. He scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Jesus, every second I don't have it, is... Fuck." He breathed deeply. "It was all I had." That wasn't supposed to sound as pathetic as it did.
Dick's hand was on his shoulder and his voice was painfully earnest when he said, "It isn't all you've got now. You've got friends, Roy."
It was an effort not to slap Dick's hand away. "Sure," he said, and started walking. He knew Dick was following. Not because he made any noise, because he was Robin and didn't, but because Dick would follow.
"Why her?" Dick asked quietly.
Roy shrugged and kicked a beer can across the street. "I got the all-clear today. Wanted to celebrate." He looked back over his shoulder at Dick and managed a grin. "It seemed a good idea when she was buying me drinks."
Dick's voice was quiet as he said, "You didn't seem to enjoy it."
Roy put his head down and walked faster.
"Roy?"
He didn't reply.
"Roy."
"I'm here for the detox. You don't have to bother about the rest of it."
"Rest of what?"
"For fuck's sake!" Roy took a deep breath and tried to calm himself before he turned to face Dick. "You wouldn't understand."
"Then explain."
"You don't want to know."
"I'm your friend."
Roy laughed, harsh and bitter. "Okay. Last time I had sex, I was paid for it. And I was treated like I didn't fucking exist except for somebody to shove their cock into me. And it was the same the time before that. And before that and before that and- So tonight, all I wanted was to fuck somebody and forget about myself. And all I could remember was being treated like meat and I didn't want to do that to her. Couldn't do that to her."
"That's good. Isn't it?" Dick sounded unsure, for once. He didn't get it. Couldn't get it.
"It means I'm still a fucking whore!" Roy started walking again. "She bought me with booze instead of smack but she bought me. And I was still meat." His grin felt slightly manic. "Just that, this time, I was pitcher instead of catcher."
Dick was a silent presence behind Roy's right shoulder as he walked. Finally, after a couple of minutes, he said, "I've finished for the night. Want a ride?"
Roy sighed. "Sure."
"Wait here," Dick said. "I'll get the bike." He shot his line and vanished into the shadows above the streetlights.
Roy leaned back against the wall and did as he was told. After a couple of minutes, a sleek black car pulled up next to him. Roy's first thought was that the Batmobile had had a revamp but then the driver slid down the tinted window.
"Hey, kid. You working?"
He should just say no, Roy knew. But he sauntered towards the car, leaned on the roof, and smiled. "Depends. What do you want?"
"What you offering?"
He let his smile spread. "I'm flexible." Licked his lips. "Twenty for a blowjob, fifty for a fuck. I don't do bareback. Anything else is negotiable."
"Straightforward fuck sounds good." There was the clunk of the door unlocking. "Get in."
Roy ostentatiously glanced up the street. "My boss gets annoyed if I leave. But I've got accommodation."
The man looked suspicious. "Where?"
Roy pointed into the alley behind him. "Up the fire escape, second floor. Less noticeable for you." He stepped back, cocked his hips. "Coming?"
There was a moment when he thought the guy was going to drive off but then the driver's door swung open and he got out.
Roy led the way into the alley, stopped under the fire escape. "Hey," he said quietly.
The guy stepped closer.
And Roy's uppercut sent him staggering backwards.
A roundhouse kick and he was on the floor. And then technique didn't matter because it was just a case of inflicting as much pain as he could, until he was grabbed from behind and flipped over somebody's hip.
It was good to operate on instinct. To time his surge upwards to get the newcomer's chin, to twist and duck and punch and kick and end up slammed face-first into the wall, arms twisted behind his back.
"Cool it," Dick hissed and it took a moment for the words to penetrate, for the haze to dissipate enough for him to sag against Dick's grip. "Stay there," Dick said and then Roy's arms were free. "You're not going to report this," Dick said and Roy didn't realize straight away that Dick was talking to the john. "You're going to get in your car and go home and you're not going to cause any more trouble."
And, judging by the sounds, the guy managed to get to his feet and stagger out of the alley, scared off by a kid in hotpants and pixie boots. Roy was still resting his head against the wall. Didn't want to see.
Dick's hand was gentle on his back. "Ready to go?"
He managed to stand upright. "Sure."
Dick was silent on the ride home and it was comforting to rest his head on Dick's shoulder, wrap his arms round his waist, and hold on as the wind tried to blow him away.
Their bedrooms were down the same corridor, Roy's two doors past Dick's. Even so, Dick padded softly to Roy's door.
"Dick?"
Dick rested his hand on Roy's shoulder and the movement was self-conscious and stilted. "You said you wanted to lose yourself in the sex."
It took a moment for the offer to make sense. When it did, Roy felt sick. "No." He turned away as far as Dick's grip would let him.
"Let me, Roy." He could feel the earnest expression on Dick's face. "Let me be there for you."
"You are," Roy said. "You don't need to-" To sacrifice yourself, he didn't say. To whore yourself.
"Look at me," Dick said and Roy obeyed. "I want to."
And Roy had had enough of being noble. Specially with Dick close against him, Dick's breath on his face. Dick's fucking cape brushing against his arms. Made it all too easy to lean forward that extra inch and kiss him. And, when Dick didn't move away, to make it harder, rougher. Show him what he was offering.
Dick moaned and tightened his grip on Roy's shoulders.
Fuck it. Fuck him. He'd offered. If he didn't like it, he shouldn't have offered.
Roy wrapped his arms round Dick's waist and hoisted him off the ground, and it must have been an offer of his own because Dick's legs were round his hips, smooth and hard, and it was too easy to move his hands down to Dick's hips. The edges of Dick's shorts were under his fingers, fabric thick and slick and wrong and making it more important than ever to get to the damn bed.
A few heavy steps and the bed was close enough that he didn't have to put Dick down, didn't have to worry about anything but not landing with all his weight on Dick as he let them both fall on to the bed.
Even so, Dick gasped and broke the kiss. "Roy," he said breathlessly, and his hands were in Roy's hair.
"Tell me you want this," Roy said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.
"Roy," Dick said again and Roy realized with a jolt that he still had his mask on. "I want it."
"I'm going to fuck you." He couldn't realize. He couldn't know what he was offering.
Dick shuddered beneath him. "Yes."
"Lube." Roy bit his lip and took a deep breath. "Condom."
And of course there was lube in Dick's fucking utility belt. Highest quality bat-lube. Dick was grinning as he handed it over.
"Condom?" And if there was a condom in there, Roy was going to scream.
But Dick shook his head. "Do without," he said quietly.
"No."
Dick's hand was on his face, making him meet his eyes. "We know you're clean."
"No." Roy climbed off the bed, moving to his bag. "I've got one." It seemed to take an hour to find the damn pack and his hands were shaking when he tipped out the last one. He looked towards the bed and caught his breath. Fucking Robin was sprawling there, legs akimbo and perfect teeth gripping his perfect fucking lower lip.
"Roy," Dick breathed and that was it, Roy was on the bed and yanking down Dick's shorts and jock. Dick's cock was in his hand, heavy and hard and hot and beautiful, and Dick was thrusting into his fist, ragged and disconnected and gasping, and his shorts were round his thighs and-
Roy unfastened his jeans, rough and careless and fast, and shoved them down and he had to be careful now, couldn't break their only condom, couldn't lose this, couldn't lose Robin doing this, looking like this. And then the condom was on and he pulled Dick's shorts right off, knocking off one of the fucking pixie boots in the process, and Dick's legs were resting on his shoulders and he probably didn't have enough lube on his fingers but they were in Dick's ass anyway and Dick's eyes were wide behind the mask and he was whimpering, fucking whining, and he'd offered, Roy hadn't even asked.
So hot and hard around Roy's fingers, and he was saying something and it took forever for Roy to hear him over the hissing of his blood in his ears. "Yes." Repeated again and again, blank and breathless and needy and Roy couldn't fight the wild grin on his face.
"Yes," he said, and slicked up his cock and he was fucking in, fucking Robin, and Robin's legs were tight on his shoulders, and Robin's ass was tight around his cock and it was everything he needed, because Robin was some fucking invention of Batman's, Robin wasn't real, and it meant he could forget about Robin and just fuck.
Didn't have to bother about stamina or any of that, could just tense and shove in that final, essential fraction of an inch, and then let his orgasm roll through him in a fucking celebration, a triumphant yell to the world that he was still fucking here.
Three weeks later and Roy was still there.
He swung himself off the weights machine, dropped a towel around his neck, and looked up to find Alfred watching him.
"Master Bruce will be returning in three days," Alfred said, and Roy felt his world shudder.
"Okay," he said.
"There's a change of clothes for you by the showers," Alfred said and left.
In the shower, Roy leaned his forehead against the cold tile and swore in every language he knew. By the time he ran out of words, the terror that had gripped him was slackening, just a little, and he knew what he was going to do.
The change of clothes Alfred had mentioned was lying on a bench outside the shower. The moment Roy touched the fabric, he knew what it was. The same thick, wrong fabric as Dick's uniform and his hands were shaking as he unfolded it. Red leggings, red sleeveless shirt, with the added touch of a yellow arrow on the left side of his chest. Yellow boots tucked neatly under the bench.
Roy sat down, suddenly enough that it jarred his spine.
Baby bird was leaving the nest.
He wore the new uniform when he went upstairs, just in time to meet Dick coming down for lunch, still in his pajamas and with untamed hair. Dick's yawn turned into a grin as he saw Roy. "Morning, Speedy," he said.
"You weren't calling me that last night," Roy said. "In fact, I don't remember very many words at all."
Dick flushed bright red. "I was talking about the uniform," he said.
Roy took pity on him. "Cool, isn't it?" He flexed his arms, absurdly proud of the muscle that was finally developing again.
Over lunch, he said, "Oystercatcher's due in again tonight."
"I know," Dick said. "Want to do something about it?"
"Hell, yes." Roy's grin was savage and he knew it.
"Your basic plan was good last time," Dick said. "It was your follow-through that sucked."
"I know," Roy said. "This time - it'll be different."
Dick didn't quite look at him as he said, "That's not till tonight, though," and Roy swallowed.
"Dick," he said, and his voice was hoarse, but Dick shook his head.
"Robin," he said.
Roy shut his eyes for a moment. "Okay," he said. "Robin." If it was all Dick could give him, it would have to do. Just like it had for the past three weeks.
On his third time of ringing Dr Pelzer's surgery, Roy managed to stop himself from hanging up as soon as the receptionist answered. "I need to speak to Dr Pelzer," he said.
"Who's calling?"
"My name's Roy Harper. I saw her a few weeks ago and-"
"One moment, please."
Bland, annoying hold music and finally the receptionist came back on.
"I'll just put you through."
And then Dr Pelzer's voice, brisk and unfeeling. "Mr. Harper. What's the problem?"
"Those organizations you mentioned?"
Her voice was more urgent when she said, "Are you back on the heroin?"
"No, god, no. Not that. I just- I was wondering if any of them might have any jobs going?"
She sounded doubtful as she said, "Maybe. I'll ask around and let you know."
"Thanks."
Dick and Roy were waiting on the roof of the marina offices, Dick watching the white Lincoln in the parking lot.
"You don't have to go," he said, keeping his gaze on the car. "When Batman gets back, I mean."
Roy snorted. "Yeah, right. Tall, dark and batty's just going to love having me hanging around." And screwing his ward.
"He's not-" Dick sighed. "He's not going to kick you out when you've got nowhere to go."
"I've got places to go," Roy said. "Just trying to choose which one."
Dick glanced up at him and Roy shrugged.
"I'm looking into some possibilities. Charities that work with streetkids and might be able to use someone like me."
"Sounds good," Dick said. He stiffened. "There. Is that him?"
Roy pulled out his own binoculars and watched the man climb into a yellow Lamborghini. "That's him. Peter Owen. Boss' car, do you think?"
"Definitely a step up from his own." Dick looked up at Roy. "Ready to go?"
"Ready," Roy said, and followed Dick down the side of the building.
This time, Owen drove around for half an hour or so, heading away from Amusement Mile. Dick kept the bike well back and Roy, arms round Dick's waist, tried to keep his frustration to a minimum.
"Perhaps we frightened him off last time?" he said over the helmet's radio.
"Maybe," Dick said. "But I don't think so."
"So why isn't he going straight there?"
Dick didn't say anything and Roy rolled his eyes.
"Okay, okay, because he wants to shake off anybody who might be following. Which is also why he's changed the car."
"If you just remembered to think occasionally," Dick said dryly, "you'd discover you're actually quite good at it."
"Shut up, shortpants," Roy said, letting affection show in his voice.
Dick didn't say anything but he gave the bike a burst of acceleration and Roy clung on tighter.
And finally Owen turned towards Amusement Mile and Roy grinned.
Once on the mile, Dick fell back a little and it was only because of an unexpected gap in the traffic that Roy saw the car pulling up outside Cherry's bodega.
"Oh, fuck, no," he muttered. "C'mon, Cherry, show some smarts."
But seventeen-year-olds turning tricks usually weren't that smart and Cherry slid into the Lamborghini.
"Fuck," Roy said.
"We'll get him," Dick said.
"Damn right we will."
But this time, the car turned into the marina's main parking lot and Roy felt Dick tense. He didn't need that to tell him the change in m.o. was a bad thing.
Dick followed the car into the parking lot and parked the bike just inside the gates. The parking lot was well lit and it was easy to follow Owen and Cherry's path as they headed along the pontoon.
Roy could make out her chatter in a voice that, without injury, was high-pitched and carried easily across the parking lot. Owen said nothing as he unlocked the gate across the pontoon.
"Oh, wow, is this your boat?" Cherry was saying. "It's huge!"
And Oystercatcher was big - a monstrous towering thing of white fiberglass and chrome. Roy wanted to dash in now, get Cherry away, but Dick's hand was on his arm. He took a deep breath and waited as Owen led Cherry on board Oystercatcher.
A few moments later, Roy followed Dick to the gate, marveling at Dick's ability to move between patches of shadow that Roy could have sworn weren't even there. A few moments more and the gate clicked open.
"After you," Dick murmured.
"Always the gentleman," Roy muttered back.
"What now?" Dick asked.
Roy had been expecting Dick to lead and had to quickly assess the layout. "You board at the bow, I'll take the stern. We work through from there. Yell if you get lost."
Dick snorted. "Gotcha." He slipped away and Roy waited until the boat shifted slightly from Dick's weight on the mooring rope, then boarded himself.
He gave the flybridge a brief glance but it was open and empty, as he'd expected. Instead he walked through the main deck entrance and found himself in a spacious lounge with a bar against one wall and a dining table at the end of the cabin. Empty.
The next cabin was a smaller, more utilitarian room. Staff lounge and dining room, he guessed. Next was the galley, and still no sign or sound of Owen or Cherry. Then the steps down to the lower deck and Dick was waiting for him.
At Roy's raised eyebrow, he shook his head. "Nothing."
"Okay, then," Roy breathed and led the way down the steps.
The foremost cabin had four twin beds and no luxury. Crew accommodation. Next aft were two cabins with double beds and en-suite bathrooms. One was expensively furnished; the other comfortable and lived-in. Owen's.
And finally, Roy could hear something. Heavy breathing and gasps from behind a door that had to be the master bedroom and he hoped like hell that it was just Owen fucking her.
"Ready?" Dick mouthed and Roy nodded.
And then Dick slammed the door open and Roy just had time to see Cherry tied down and gagged before Owen was charging him.
He didn't have to think. Three weeks of drilling with Dick and the muscle memory of how to fight was back and it was pure instinct to step back, let Owen into the restricted space of the corridor, and then slip into a rhythm of punches and kicks.
And maybe he went a little too far, was a little too hard, but Owen deserved it.
A punch to the throat and Owen staggered back as much as he could. An uppercut and he slumped. Another and he crumpled to the floor, blood streaming from his nose.
And it still wasn't enough.
A little more, he thought. Just a little more and it would be an accident that Owen died. Didn't know his strength; didn't realize how hard he was hitting him.
But somebody flew at him, wrapped their arms around him, and he nearly lashed out before realizing just in time that it was Cherry, sobbing and clinging to him.
"Hey," he said, and tried to stop trembling from the adrenaline rush. "Shhh." He smoothed her hair and the wig came off in his hands. Her hair was dark brown and messily cropped and she looked even younger. "It's okay, you're safe now."
She was still crying, deep gulping sobs that wracked her body, and Roy shut his eyes and hugged her close.
Finally, she drew a shuddering breath and stood up. "Thank you," she said.
"It's what we're here for," Roy said, and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "Have you got anywhere safe to go, someone who can look after you?"
After a moment, she shook her head.
"Robin?" Roy asked. "I don't know Gotham."
Dick was photographing the room. "Leslie Thompkins. She'll help." He looked at Cherry. "The police will want to talk to you. Think you can do it? Put the bastard away?"
Cherry glanced up at Roy, sniffed hard and nodded. "I'll do it."
"Good girl," Roy said, and she smiled. "Do you think you're up to riding a motorbike?"
"Take the Lamborghini," Dick said, and scribbled an address on a piece of paper he took from his utility belt. "Think you can find it?"
"Sure. You'll finish up here?"
"The cops'll find a nice gift-wrapped package," Dick said.
"C'mon, Cherry," Roy said and Cherry obediently followed him up to the main deck.
He was giving her a hand on to the pontoon when she said, "Charlotte. My name's Charlotte."
"Roy," Roy said. "Although I probably shouldn't have told you that."
She giggled.
"How long have you been on the streets?" he asked.
"Eight months," she said, sounding wondering.
"Feels longer, doesn't it?"
He felt her watching him as they walked up to the parking lot. "Yeah," she said.
"Feels like you can never go back to who you were before."
"Yeah," she said quietly.
"You can't," he said. "What you've done - what's been done to you - you can't leave it behind. But you can become something different. Better, maybe."
She didn't say anything until they were in the Lamborghini and Roy was hotwiring the ignition. "How long for you?"
"Not long, really. But long enough."
"Too long," she said quietly.
"Five minutes is too long in that life." He turned on the inside light and read the address Dick had given him. "I have absolutely no idea how to find this place."
Charlotte plucked the address from his hand. "I know the way."
Dawn was streaking the sky a dingy grey when Roy left Leslie's and found Dick waiting for him. "How is she?" Dick asked.
"She's settling," Roy said, climbing onto the back of the bike. "I could sleep for a week."
"Leslie's a good person," Dick said, and pulled away from the curb. "She'll look after her."
"What about Owen?"
"The police have picked him up. If Cherry-"
"Charlotte," Roy interrupted. "Her name's Charlotte."
"If Charlotte testifies, he'll go down, no problem."
"Good. That's good." Roy rested his head on Dick's shoulder and closed his eyes. Dick's body was familiar against his. Three weeks of learning what he liked and how. And still... "Why do you only fuck me as Robin?"
The bike jinked and Roy snapped back to alertness as he fought to regain his balance. A few heart-stopping seconds and the bike was steady again.
"What do you mean?" Dick asked, voice deadened by more than the radio.
"Don't play dumb," Roy said. "You know."
They traveled nearly a mile before Dick said, "I thought it was what you wanted. Somebody who wasn't real."
And that was a kick to his stomach. "That night. Just that night. Not always."
"I'm sorry."
Another mile and Roy said, "I thought it was the only way you could bear to do it."
"God, no. I wanted-" Dick's voice was quiet as he added, "I wanted you."
"Idiot," Roy said, and grinned.
Roy didn't bother asking, just pulled Dick into bed with him. Thirty seconds later, they were both asleep and Roy didn't wake until late afternoon, when Alfred politely shook him awake.
"There's a telephone call for you."
Roy blinked blearily and swam through the layers of consciousness before hitting a moment of heart-stopping terror as he realized the possibility that Dick was still in his bed while Alfred was right there. He shot upright but Dick was gone and Roy was still wearing his uniform and now he was awake.
Alfred didn't quite smile. "A telephone call from a Dr Pelzer." He handed the cordless phone to Roy and, after fumbling for a few seconds, Roy managed to pick it up.
"Hello?" he said.
"Mr. Harper, this is Dr Pelzer. You asked me to look into charities that may have a vacancy for somebody with your experience."
What a nice way of putting it, Roy thought.
"I've been contacted by a charity in New York that's just received funding for a role I think you'd be suitable for. Would you like their contact information?"
"Yes, definitely!" Roy said, and looked around. "Just let me get-"
Alfred handed him a notepad and pen and Roy grinned at him.
"Okay, I'm ready."
As soon as he was off the phone with Dr Pelzer, Roy called the number he'd been given.
"Streetkids, New York."
Roy took a deep breath. "Hi, I'd like to speak to Dr Meera Ramzan."
"Who's calling?"
"Roy Harper - about the counselor job."
"Please hold a moment."
It really was only a moment before he heard a warm, lightly accented voice. "Mr. Harper, I'm glad you called. I've heard very good things about you from Leslie Thompkins."
It was fifteen minutes before Roy was off the phone, head swimming with information about a job that could have been tailor-made for him.
And, as he heard Dick running upstairs, he realized with a jolt that the job probably had been tailor-made for him.
He considered calling Dr Ramzan back, telling her he'd changed his mind. He even had his hand on the phone to make the call.
But.
He needed the job. He needed somewhere to go and a way to earn money and a childhood as a superhero hadn't given him any marketable skills.
And he'd been accepting Dick's help for the past month and it had worked. Why not accept this help, too?
So when Dick stuck his head into Roy's room, Roy managed to smile and follow him downstairs for dinner and keep up conversation through the meal until Dick asked, "Do you want to go out tonight?"
Roy shook his head. "I'm still bushed from last night. And I've got a job interview to prepare for."
"That's great!"
"Don't pretend you don't know anything about it," Roy said and his resentment melted away at Dick's awkward smile.
"I wouldn't have done it if I thought you'd be bad at the job," Dick said earnestly. "You just needed a foot in the door."
"Thanks," Roy said. He looked at his plate and felt the blush rushing up his neck. "For. You know."
"Hey." Roy looked up and Dick was grinning at him. "Titans together."
Two days later, Roy carried his bags down to the hallway where Dick was waiting.
"You sure you've got everything?" Dick asked.
Roy patted his bowcase. "Sure."
"And you're sure you don't want to stay?"
"Quite sure." He glanced around and whispered in Dick's ear, "It's tough enough having sex with Alfred in the house. With Bruce in the house? Not a chance."
Dick grinned. "He's really not that bad, you know."
Roy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Anyway, I need to get going if I'm going to catch my flight."
"It's been good having you here."
"It's been... Well, it's been good for me to be here. And I've even enjoyed some of it." The silence stretched between them and finally Roy lifted his bag. "Bye, Dick."
"Teen Titans."
Roy paused.
"What about getting back together? I think it could be good. For all of us."
Roy thought about it. "Give me six months," he said, "and call me then."