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It’s three a.m. when Nightwing arrives in Bell Reve. In the day time the high security prison isn’t the best place to be, but at night it seems downright terrifying. Bare concrete walls and electrified barbed wire wrap around the swamp-land prison with a teeth-gnashing embrace.
There is no gentleness here, no kindness, just superpowered criminals of the most dangerous pedigree and their jailor who is as indomitable as the walls themselves.
Amanda Waller shows no fear though as Nightwing steps into the interrogation room. She doesn’t want to be here anymore than he does, but she owes him a favor, a big one, and he’s come to collect.
That’s why he’s here, alone in a secure room, one he’s already verified as untapped. There’s not much to see in the room. It’s a plain concrete box about nine feet by nine. There’s a thick lead door, a singular naked lightbulb inlayed into the ceiling, two cold metal chairs bolted to the floor and a matching metal table set between them.
The no-nonsense warden of infamous Bell Reve stomps towards the only door in the room. She raps her knuckles twice and the thick metal door slides open. Two guards stand outside it and in-between is a tall, purple-eyed alien. Her hands are shackled in front of her with large metal cuffs that hum just faintly.
She’s in prison orange that ironically compliments her already orange skin and dark hair.
Here is Blackfire, usurper, war-criminal, convicted of matricide, patricide, and genocide on several planets, including Earth. Tamaran doesn’t want her so she’s here, hopefully sitting in prison for the rest of her life.
And just the woman Nightwing wants to see.
Waller glares firmly at the alien but Blackfire doesn’t look at her. She might as well be dirt beneath Blackfire’s shoes.
Waller slips out and the guards move Blackfire in. They force her onto the closest plain metal chair and shackle her down with an eye-hook drilled into the floor.
When she’s secured the guard’s leave, joining Waller on the other side of the door. The last thing Nightwing sees is her scowl as the door shuts, finally leaving him and Blackfire alone.
Coldness fills the room, not in temperature, but attitude. Neither of them truly likes the other.
Nightwing swallows down his hatred for Blackfire. He sits in the empty seat across from her, trying to be cordial.
It doesn’t work, but she is curious. Why did he want to meet her?
Nightwing pulls out one of his escrima sticks and clicks a button hidden in the base. He lays it on the metal table and it emits a buzz that can barely be heard. It’s an extra layer of protection just in case Waller really did try to rig the room. It’ll blur their faces and voices so their lips can’t be read and no one else will be able to understand why they’re saying.
Blackfire smirks at the extra protocol. It’s a wicked, cruel thing even when she doesn’t intend it to be.
With the room fully secured, Nightwing finally discloses his reason for coming – information.
That’s no surprise. In truth what else would one need in an interrogation room?
Blackfire leans back as far as she can, unimpressed. He has nothing to offer her. She’s not interested in helping him crack whatever case he’s on.
But it isn’t a case. It’s not hero work. It’s personal. Very personal. And he tells her all about it.
When he’s done it seems like Blackfire is made of stone. She doesn’t even blink. For long, long minutes the room is silent, the only sound the small hum of the electronics.
It’s astonishing what he’s asking, incredible. They both know it.
He also knows it’s a longshot but she’s his only hope on Earth. Will she help?
At first, Blackfire says nothing. There seems to be nothing to say, then, slowly, she nods. She asks for nothing. Doesn’t try to bargain for commissary or more yard time. This request is beyond the bribery of treats and blind eyes to rules.
This is Tamaranean. Family. And while she and her sister may have their differences, at the end of the day, there is some sisterly thread that still binds them; the thread of their home world. Their traditions run deep to the very core of their being. They’re important to them, so important that even Blackfire still adheres to them.
And since Nightwing is asking about them, is asking about the right way to go about this it’s serious, real, and she cannot help but oblige.
Spring comes beautifully. It’s the longer days and the birds coming back from the south, and the melting of snow that Kory loves. It feels nice to finally be outside more, nice to see weeds and flowers and little insects bustling around.
The Titans are practicing more outside now that the weather is better. There are rocks to break and lift, combat sequences to complete, and hundreds of hundreds of spars.
The sheen of sweat on Kory’s brow tells her the heat is returning and she loves it. Vic has bested her in combat, but she’ll have another go at him after he fights Garth. She takes a moment to recover, to think about what she could have done better in preparation for her next spar when Dick approaches.
He’s just come from his own fight on the other side of the island. She hadn’t seen it but the elephant-like trumpeting of dismay from Gar clues her in that Dick has been victorious. He’s in full Nightwing gear and his hands are behind his back.
He pecks her cheek with a kiss, not caring that she’s sweaty and she doesn’t mind that he is either. She offers him a water bottle, but he shakes his head, he doesn’t need it. Instead he pulls his hands from behind his back, revealing a small terracotta pot.
It almost looks like a honey pot but it’s shiny as if it has been freshly glazed and right out of a kiln. The lid has a little ball on the top to grasp.
Curiosity claims Kory then. She doesn’t ask what it’s for. Maybe just a present? Something he saw out and about?
She looks up, still curious, but like his mentor, the former Boy Wonder has already disappeared from view, no doubt heading back to the part of the island where he and Raven and Gar are sparring.
Leaning against the rock, Kory opens the pot and blinks at the contents within. The interior of the pot has been halved with a piece of balsa wood, separating it into two sides. To the left is a blue powder, and to the right, red. The powders are finely ground and as she touches the red she realizes what it is.
Dried paint.
It’s almost like water color, but the texture isn’t right for that sort of painting.
It’s strange, she thinks, it’s almost like the paints back home when two people….
Instantly she shuts the thought down. No. That can’t be what this is. Maybe Dick has some fun art project he wants them to do on their downtime, but Dick isn’t really the artistic type and neither is she.
She looks up, back in the direction where the sounds of sparring are emerging again. Could it be? Her heartrate spikes at the thought. She wishes to go over there and ask right away, but she can’t force her legs to move.
What if it isn’t? What if it’s all one big misunderstanding?
No. She won’t say anything. She’ll keep it close and wait to see if it is what she thinks it is.
Summer is a happy time in Titan’s Tower. It brings with it the heat that Kory loves and also lots of time outdoors in the sunshine with her friends.
The top of Titans Tower is where they like to relax on blistering summer days. There’s a pool up there as well as a net for volley ball and of course the grill.
It’s been a wonderful day. No crime the police can’t handle and a nice breeze coming off the water. Victor’s playlist has wonderful picks that even Raven can’t help but tap her fingers to. Raven herself has discovered a new book she’s absolutely enthralled by, Donna has taken loads of pictures and is cataloging them on a beach towel, and Victor, Gar, Roy, and Wally are playing volleyball while Garth helps himself to another hamburger.
The sun’s sinking in the west, a big red disk dipping into the glistening bay. It really has been a perfect day. Even Dick had joined them. No crime-fighting business at all.
She sits up from her place near the edge of the roof where she’s been tanning, enjoying the music and the chatter of her friends. She spots Dick coming over to her, a wooden box in hand.
As he finally reaches her, Dick says nothing.
The music stops, but Kory barely registers it. Her mind instantly snaps back to the terracotta pot he’d given her in the spring. She had almost forgot about it, almost convinced herself that it was nothing but a coincidence.
Until now.
Without a word Dick sits the box beside her and walks off.
With trembling hands Kory opens in the box. She knows what’s going to be in there even before she opens it but still her green eyes go wide as she beholds what lies within.
It is a pearl-colored comb and leaf-shaped hair charms.
Does he know what he’s just given her?! Does he know what it means? But how can he not. It’s too specific.
She looks up in shock and the rest of the Titans are staring at her. Raven is smiling.
X’hal, Raven is smiling.
They know, Kory thinks as Donna snaps a quick picture of her staring at them in her utter shock. Oh they know.
Kory is finally learning to breathe again three months. Dick nor anyone has said anything about the box or the pot of paint. Maybe it was all just really a wild coincidence. Maybe he doesn’t know what it means.
But that’s not possible. One she can think is a mistake. Two of the correct things at the correct time is a pattern, a knowing pattern.
She finally thinks she’ll talk to him about it, try to plumb his knowledge on the subject. Maybe he had read something about Tamaran and only thought it was a nice series of gestures. It’s an alien culture to him after all.
Standing near the windows of the Tower’s common room, Kory watches the cold rain fall. It’s autumn now, the warm days are gone, leaving only the good memories of those long days in their wake.
She’s still trying to figure out how to broach the topic to Dick when she notices she’s not alone. The reflection in the glass now has two of them.
Dick is behind her.
And in his hands there’s a large blanket.
She’s never seen it before. It’s got warm colors, orange and reds and burgundies. The patterns on it are like fireworks. She thinks she can work out the image of a trapeze. Some of the squares aren’t made of the same material and she recognizes that they’re part of his old costume when he was Robin. A patch with the R in the center sits next to a square she’s sure was part of his cape.
Slowly, Kory turns to face him. Again, he doesn’t say anything just lifts the blanket and wraps it around her.
She doesn’t move. She’s too stunned.
Definity it is what she thinks it is. The first gift was intentional and so was the second and so is this one.
The blanket is heavy and warm and comforting as he settles it around her shoulders. It smells spicy, like acar berries from Tamaran.
How in the hell did he managed to make it smell like that?!
The question jolts her out of her standstill just as he finishes adjusting the blanket around her. When it’s fully draped around her shoulders he takes a step back, admiring her. He gives a smile, a smile that nearly takes her to her knees then departs.
Winter is here again, dark and dreary. The trees are bare like skeletons. There is usually not a lot of snow this far west but they get a little bit every January.
Now that the holidays are over the sparkly lights and trees are down, there is nothing but the solid determination to wait out winter.
Kory wishes the sun would stay out longer, wishes it were warmer but she can’t complain, everything in its season as the saying goes. It’s the time of year where crime is down too, most people are indoors. Villains don’t hibernate but even they need some time to rest, recuperate, plan.
Winter is that time.
Well, for most villains anyway.
Kory towels her hair and steps out of the Tower’s showers. Plasmus and Cinderblock didn’t quite get the message that winter is rest time. If they feel the cold or if it slows them down, they hadn’t let it show.
It had been Plasmus who had managed to land a good blow on her, splattering her with goo as she’d blasted a hole through his malleable, toxic form. The starbolt had finally managed to debilitate him so that he could be arrested but that goo had taken an hour to get out of her hair.
At least she doesn’t smell like toxic waste anymore, that’s a plus.
Steamy and warm she wraps the towel around her and starts to head to her quarters. She’s just turning down the last hall when Dick appears at the end of it.
He’s still in uniform. He, Garth, and Roy had been across town fighting Cinderblock. Bits of grayish dust cover the blue chevron on his chest and some of the pouches on is belt have been ripped away, telling of a close call where the criminal had nearly grabbed him.
He approaches silently. He smells like the fish cannery near the docks and snow.
He stops just at arms length and pulls out his escrima sticks from behind his back.
Wordlessly, he kneels and lays them down in front of her then departs.
Kory doesn’t watch him go. She stares down at the escrima sticks he has laid at her feet. They aren’t his back up weapons or a new prototype. They’re the escrima he wears on patrol. They’ve seen endless combat. The batons are scratched and nicked and taped in places. Bits of the grip is starting to chip and wear off. There’s a small dent in the left one thanks to Cinderblock’s very hard head.
She knew it was coming. She should have expected it would be today after such a victory, but it hadn’t dawned on her that he would do it this soon into winter.
It’s there though. The final gift, his weapons.
There will be no more such gifts now, Kory knows.
What happens now is all up to her.
Dick is sleeping when the knock comes.
He opens the door and there she stands, the four gifts in hand.
There’s no need for words, they know each other’s hearts on the matter. He ushers her inside and the door swishes shut behind her.
All sleep is gone from him now. His heart his hammering madly in his chest.
This is it.
She makes her way to his bed and sits on it cross legged. From the other side of the bed he mirrors her, sitting in the exact same position.
His eyes are wide and he gulps hard. His hands have even started to tremble a little.
Kory smiles at him and carefully places the gifts between them. The pot of dry paint sits atop the box of hair charms, the box of hair charms is wedged between the two escrima sticks and beneath it all is the soft blanket. When that’s done she folds her hands in her lap, waiting for his next move.
Once again Dick swallows hard then tilts forward. He takes her hands in his, running his thumbs along the back of her knuckles in a soft, loving gesture. He brings her hands to his lips, kissing them, reverently, every emotion he feels in that moment transferred with the brush of his lips against her fingers.
Then, they get to work.
Breakfast in the Tower is always a chaotic affair. The smell of coffee and tea and whatever energy drink Roy in chugging all mix with the smells of half-burnt oatmeal and chocolate protein powder. Bacon sizzles and eggs crack.
It’s a never-ending chaos of chatter and the clatter of dishes as they talk about the day or plans or cases.
Today, it’s all the same. Roy is on his third energy drink, trying to keep awake from a late stake-out. Donna is sipping from a little cup of coffee that has just about as much caffeine. Raven is pouring herbal tea and nibbling on a piece of buttered toast while Vic makes himself a full breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage and Gar is trying to convince Garth that his vegan, gluten-free, banana-nut muffins are actually delicious.
It's all normal until the door to the common room hisses open.
Vic looks up first, turning with a platter full of bacon and pancakes. He freezes as if he’s just shutdown and the rest of the Titans turn to look.
Kory and Dick walk in side by side, both of them sharing the large blanket. Dick is smiling bigger than any of them have ever seen him smile. And Kory, Kory is radiant. Though her feet are firmly on the ground she’s practically walking on air.
Their hair has braided and the charms he’d gifted her have been woven within.
She’s wearing one of his weapons on her back, and he’s wearing the other.
Her face is painted red, his blue. The patterns are runes of X’hal and whorls of Tamaranean designs that, if they were overlapped, would mesh perfectly.
The group says nothing and neither do they.
As they hop onto the stools in front of the long kitchen island their smiles say it all. The ceremony is over. The gifts given and accepted. On Tamaran there is no altar to stand at, no officiant, no bells ringing in delightful declaration, no rice thrown, no dresses and tuxes.
Though they know they’ll probably be a human ceremony, in the Tamaranean fashion it’s complete.
There, in the bright sunlight morning, Kory has accepted his gifts and his offer to become her mate.
It is Raven who is the first one to move. She gets up from the island and glides to the fridge. She opens it with her abilities and pulls out a bottle of champagne she’s stashed away just for the occasion.
It’s so un-Raven like but here and now it’s perfect. She pops the cork with more skill than anyone was aware she possessed in popping bottles and the celebration of the union of Dick Grayson and Koriand’r begins. The silence breaks with a joke from Gar that sets them all laughing.
The happy couple lean in close to one another, the blanket still wrapped around both of them.
They watch with smiles as their friends scramble to find clean glasses and mugs and talk about bets they’ve made about the entire situation.
Kory and Dick listen to it all but in truth they’re lost in their own little world. There have nothing they want to say. There is no articulation in English or Tamaranean that can express what they feel. Their joined hearts are full of love, and they need no words for that.