Work Text:
"Yeah, Pops, everything is fine.
"He dropped out. I know. No, freshmen can't live in singles. No, Richie's already got a roommate. Yeah, that would make things a lot easier but I'll figure something out. I think the Res Life people have someone in mind.
"No, don't put Sharon on the ...
"Hi, Sharon. I didn't take your cd. I didn't! Did you look behind the stereo? What about in the car? Well look again. Yeah. Put Pops back on, will you?
"All right. I miss you too. I'll give you a call next week. Well if you want to I won't say no. Yeah, the orientation for that is tomorrow, I think. Okay. Love you too. Bye."
There was a knock at the door just as Virgil set down the phone. He took a quick look around his room: half-decorated with posters, books and clothes everywhere, nothing embarrassing or incriminating in sight. He sighed and said, "Come in."
Kevin bounded into the room. He was one of the two RAs in the dorm, and once Virgil got past the guy's kind of annoying enthusiasm about all things collegiate, he was pretty cool.
"How're you doing, Virgil?"
"Fine. Just getting everything unpacked and put away."
"About that. I've talked with Stephanie." Stephanie was the head of Res Life. Virgil had sat through two orientations with her so far and guessed she'd been a cheerleader. For most of her life. "We've got a new roommate for you. His roommate got a last-minute acceptance to Harvard and won't be returning." Kevin's permanent grin faded a little as he added, "We're going to ask you to move into his room." The grin regained his luster. "But you'll love it. He lives on the other side of the dorm. They get better tv reception."
Because I get so much time to watch tv. "Great."
"Come on upstairs. I'll introduce you. Then you can work out when you're moving in!"
Virgil reluctantly followed Kevin out of the room and to the stairwell. One roommate was just as bad as another. He and Richie had requested each other, but Richie hadn't been able to hack the school's system to make sure of it. They could get a room together in the coming semester if one came open but until then, it was going to be a pain and a half trying to go out on patrol. Not for the first time, Virgil wished he'd found a way to live at home.
On the plus side, Dakota State had a fantastic electrical engineering program and they'd offered him and Richie enough scholarship money for them to afford to attend together. On the down side, it was just too far to make commuting feasible, and Res Life forbade freshmen and sophomores from living off-campus.
And life was so easy as a superhero when all I had to do was get by Sharon.
Kevin knocked on a door that looked like all the rest in this cinder block building but for that it was a corner room. "It's Kevin. I brought your new roommate."
Virgil wondered if Kevin had to practice the perky thing.
A mumble came through the door that was probably "Come in."
Kevin opened the door and ushered Virgil inside. "Okay guys. You can do your own introductions. If you think this won't work out, let me know today and we'll see if we can find anyone else, but it might mean one of you has to go to another dorm." Kevin clapped Virgil on the shoulder but Virgil barely registered it. "Later, guys."
The door swung shut as he left.
Virgil found his voice. "Hey, Tim."
"Hey."
Tim hadn't rearranged the beds yet, so they were still in the prim, parallel positions Res Life insisted they be left in at the end of every year. Tim sat on the one he'd chosen, the one closer to the inside wall. Virgil sat on the other bed, facing him but not looking directly at him.
Tim knew the expression on Virgil's face. He'd seen it enough times over the past two years. Some people showed it clearly, some people hid it almost perfectly, but he knew it all the same. Back in the day, he'd seen that expression on the nurses' faces in Leslie's clinic, when the rape victims came in for treatment. He'd probably worn it himself back then from time to time.
I know what happened to you and I feel bad for you and I don't know what else to say.
He unclenched his fists.
"So," he said.
"So," said Virgil.
"You talk to anyone lately?"
Virgil shrugged. "I run into people. Flash was in town twice this summer. Saw Superman but we didn't have a chance to talk."
Tim's mouth twitched. Clark was one of the people who couldn't hide his expressions. He suspected but could never prove that he'd been the one to let the word out to the rest of the "community." If not him, then Kara. Didn't matter.
Virgil asked, a little hesitantly, "You?"
"I've been staying with Nightwing. I run into some of the Titans now and then." But things had changed with them, too, and there was nothing he could do about it, not change his name, not change his life.
"The Titans asked R ... Gear and me to join up. We didn't have the time, though."
"You wouldn't have liked it. Too many meetings."
Virgil smiled. "I didn't think you'd be in college yet."
"GED."
"Oh."
They descended into silence. Through the open window, Tim heard people talking in the dorm's parking lot. Further away, there was a touch football game going on somewhere. Traffic snaked by on the roads beyond, and there were birds twittering and calling in the trees elsewhere on campus.
"This could work out," Virgil said. "I was worried about hiding things from my roommate. But you already know, so."
"Yeah."
"Um. How much do you know?"
"Enough. And you can tell Richie to relax when he finds out." Bruce had investigated Virgil thoroughly before he'd come out to him. "You?"
"I looked things up after Batman told me. Figured out about you and Grayson." Tim nodded. He wouldn't have to be careful about saying Dick's name. "I don't know Batgirl's real name."
He nodded again, carefully controlling his wince. Babs was with Bruce, and Bruce had made it perfectly clear that Tim was not to return. Alfred was the only one who stayed neutral, who called and wrote and sent clothes and cookies and notes.
"Doesn't matter," Tim said.
"I haven't told Richie. About Batman or you. He knows I know something."
"You trust him."
"With my life."
"We'll tell him together." Virgil nodded. And it was decided.
Richie brought pizza. It was as good an excuse as any to be away from his new roommate, and besides, dinner had sucked. Virgil and Tim both said they'd make sure the food was better when they started their work-study jobs in the cafeteria — funny that they'd gotten the same assignment, when he thought about it later — but Richie was privately sure that the best they were going to get was during parent weekends.
"So I can keep Backpack and my uniform here?"
"Sure," said Virgil. "Right?"
"It's a good idea," Tim said. "I think we should install a false back to the closet and keep our costumes there."
Richie stopped eating. "You still wear the Robin suit?"
"No."
Richie thought fast, which wasn't a problem for him. Old news reports filtered through his head, matched up to half-rumors and mutterings from the members of the superhero community who actually spoke to the two Dakota heroes.
"You're Red Bird."
"Huh?" Virgil looked way confused as Tim nodded.
"I've been hearing reports. Bludhaven?"
"Mostly. I figure this place could use some extra protection, though."
"And you're ... good? With that?"
Richie thought maybe he saw a little twitch. "It's what I do. It's who I am. Bird's gotta fly and all."
Richie laughed.
Tim didn't laugh. Tim didn't ever laugh, Richie would learn in time.
Classes started two days later, and there was no time to worry about anything but running from class to class and then to work and later to patrol and to grab what time they could for their homework and sleep.
Tim was in the EE program too. Richie was double majoring in EE and Comp Sci, so the three of them had most of the same classes. Tim worked the lunch shift in the cafeteria, Virgil the dinner shift. Richie's work study was in the campus print shop. Richie spent most of his evenings studying in their room, except for the nights when it was his turn to patrol. He even spent two or three nights a week sleeping on their floor. He stored his uniform and Backpack in their closet and a sleeping bag and a spare pillow under Virgil's bed. Virgil wasn't sure what he told his roommate.
They switched off patrol duties. On the weekends, they'd go two at a time, during the week they alternated solo patrols. It wasn't more than a month before the news spread to all the crooks in the area that Static and Gear had relocated. Red Bird didn't get the same respect, not yet.
Red Bird scanned the alley below him. He'd had years of training for this, and he went through his check methodically. Nothing suspicious, nothing out of the ordinary. He made a mental note, fired his grapple, moved onto the next street.
The rhythms moved through him. Hunt, search, move on. Watch the shadows. Assume nothing. Listen for the screams. Learn the routes taken by the working girls, and watch to make sure no one else is marking the same routes. Note what businesses let out late. Note what businesses only start late. Note faces. Note names.
He knew this wasn't what his two ... partners wasn't quite the word. Coworkers. Yes. His new coworkers would look and listen, but they didn't know all the ins and outs of finding trouble before it started. They were used to going up against other Bang Babies and metas, not tracking a scattered network of small-time drug dealers for weeks until the big money behind them finally put a toe out of line.
It was weird, working with amateurs. But he'd take what he could get.
It was two am, and Richie surfed. His roommate Steve snored in his own bed, undisturbed by the glow of Richie's monitor. He itched to call Backpack, knowing the interface was so much better suited for his own synapses, but Virge was probably back from patrol and asleep by this point and Richie knew Tim was weirded out by Backpack crawling around their room.
Richie didn't want to weird out Tim. But he did want to find some things out about him.
Everybody in the biz knew about Robin, about what had happened. Richie didn't know details, and he was pretty sure Virge didn't, either. At the time, all he'd heard was that Robin had gone missing for three weeks, the Bat had called for a manhunt, and then he'd been found alive. Other things filtered down, later, and he still couldn't parse out the rumors from the facts. The Joker had been involved. No, just Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. It'd been all three, and the Joker was dead. The Joker was alive in Arkham but with his brain burned out. Harley was dead. Harley had been spotted in Metropolis with a baby that might have been hers. Robin was completely fine. Robin was injured. Robin was insane. Robin was never coming back to the streets again. Robin had broken with Batman. Batman had kicked Robin out. Robin had died and it was another boy that all this was about. Batman was billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne and Robin was his adopted son Timothy Drake and the first Robin had been his ward Dick Grayson who was now Nightwing.
Okay, that last thing wasn't rumor, it was what he'd found out this semester, and it was just as crazy as the rest. But not quite as crazy as the former Robin coincidentally being assigned as a roommate to Static.
Richie could do things with computers that literally no one else on the planet could. It was his gift from the residual fallout of the Big Bang. He could trace signals and check files and find the tiniest changes that signaled an otherwise perfect hack.
He'd tried to hack the Res Life system over the summer. And now he was past the firewall and he could see the tampering even if no one else could. Someone had assigned Virgil a roommate who'd already dropped out before the roommate assignments had even been made.
Code scrolled by in a different window — Harvard's mainframe — and Richie wasn't in the least surprised to learn the name of the benefactor who'd made a special donation to get the boy who would have been Tim's roommate accepted.
Big. Scary. Freak. With lots of money.
By three am, he'd successfully tracked half of Tim's scholarships back to three charitable foundations which were funded by a dummy corporation that also made significant contributions to the Justice League.
He bet Tim didn't know. As he shut down his system and tried to catch a few hours of sleep before arriving bleary-eyed to Calc, he wondered how many other things had been arranged in Tim's life by the man whose name he never spoke.
"I'm fine.
"Yeah. They're fine too. We get along great. He saw Superman a few months ago but they didn't talk. I know. No, I'm good. A few repairs. I've got the kit.
"Are you okay? Do you need me back there? You're sure? I can be gone a few days. We've got most of the same classes and I can catch up. All right, but promise you'll call if you need backup.
"I'll stay here during Fall Break but they make us leave the dorms for Thanksgiving. Wednesday through Sunday. Okay. Thanks. I'll bring laundry.
"Chocolate chip. And a sweater. Pretty sure he bought it.
"Me too. I know. Bye, Dick."
Past midnight and Virgil couldn't sleep. Richie was out in the city tonight. Virgil half-thought about pulling the Static uniform from the closet, dressing in the dark and joining Richie until they were both too tired to do anything but fall unconscious. As he lay in his bed, listening to Tim's even breaths, he pictured himself getting out of bed and changing, and what he'd say to Richie when he caught up with him. Richie'd probably remind him they had a quiz in the morning.
A half-moon peeped in over where the shade didn't quite cover the top of the window, and Virgil stared out.
"Can't sleep, either?" asked Tim, a ghost-voice.
"No."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Quiz tomorrow."
"No you're not."
"You never told me you was psychic."
"Not. Just psychotic." The ghost-voice was hollow.
"Don't say that." Virgil rolled over so that he could almost see him. Tim was on his back, watching the ceiling. "Nobody thinks that."
Except ... Tim took pills when he got up in the morning and before he went to bed, and they weren't vitamins. And during the scrap of free time he had between classes and work and their other work, he went to the gym and did things with the weights that made the football team stand back in respect. And he was just a little too focused when they had the books out and were trying to study. But Virgil had met Batman, and none of these things were really surprising.
"Tell me you don't think so."
Virgil sighed. He tossed his arm out, pointed to the lamp on his desk and sent a charge. The small bulb burned into his night-adjusted vision for a second, and he blinked. Then he sat up.
"Look at me." Tim rolled his head over. "I don't think you're psychotic. You had a bad thing happen. You got past it, probably better than I could've."
Tim watched his face for a while, then stared back at the ceiling. The charge faded from the lamp, leaving the room even darker than it had been.
"I killed him." Virgil bit his lip but stayed quiet. "Joker. Shot him dead."
"You had to."
"I'm not sure I did." He rolled over, toward the wall.
"I'm sure."
"You weren't there." Tim went quiet for so long, Virgil thought he'd gone to sleep, and then he said, "You want to know the worst part?"
No. He had plenty of theories about what had happened, what Joker had done with Tim under his control for three long weeks. It was enough for Virgil to have nightmares. Tim moaned in his sleep some nights, but only rarely. Virgil was pretty sure that's what the evening pills were there to handle.
"The worst part is the way everyone changed. The way they started treating me like ... like I was fragile. Like I was a little boy and they were all these big heroes going to coddle me and protect me.
"I saved Superman's life once. Saved his at least a dozen times. And after, they ... God. Toys. Bruce made sure there were toys in my room. Barbara brought me a fucking teddy bear. It was crazy. I mean, yeah. I wasn't ... right. I know that. I knew that then. But I was supposed to be getting my driver's license, not sitting in my room playing with goddamned stuffed animals. He wouldn't let me go out on the streets. He said I was done."
After a moment, Virgil said, "When my Pops found out about me, I thought he was gonna tell me I couldn't be Static anymore. I don't know what I would've done if he had."
"You don't stop being who you are," Tim said.
Virgil stared into the darkness. You can hide it and you can pretend, but it's like trying to pull a blanket over a mountain. "No."
"This is the greatest thing we will ever do in our lives. Some people will become doctors and cure diseases. We do this. He wanted to take it away from me. What the hell do I have if I don't have myself?"
Virgil didn't know the answer, but he was sure Tim wasn't really asking him anyway. He was spared further impossible questions by a tap at the window. Richie waited as Virgil opened it and let him inside to change.
"Hey. Can I just crash here?"
"Yeah," said Tim. "Just make sure you put your stuff away. I tripped over Backpack this morning." His voice was back to normal, or as close to normal as he ever got.
"Yeah, Mom. Mr. Hawkins is picking us both up. I should be home by dinnertime. Sure I can go. I've got a paper due the Monday I get back, so I'll have to work on that.
"Steve? He's okay. We don't see much of each other. Virgil's good. His roommate's good too. There's a triple in their dorm and we're thinking about trying to get it for the Spring semester. Yeah, I know. Virge and I will have to make sure we study, too.
"Really? Okay, yeah. Let me write it down. I'll call her after I get off the phone with you. Okay I'll ask her. Yeah, she sent a couple of letters. She said she and Daisy were getting along okay as roommates, but you know. No, no girls allowed in our dorm after hours.
"Mom.
"Mom!
"Is Dad there? Okay. Tell him I said hi when he gets in. I gotta go. Love you."
The crime rate hit a lull after Thanksgiving, which was a godsend during the run-up to Finals. Richie could study via his linkup with Backpack while he haunted the streets. He paused in his Physics review to stop a mugging, and again later to escort an old lady to the drug store for a nearly forgotten prescription before the store closed. Tim would yell when he found out, saying Richie couldn't pay close enough attention to his environment while he was going over study problems, but the fact was, nothing was happening and Richie was going to call it an early night after he swung through the park.
She was crying when he found her. He'd seen her around campus once or twice, didn't know her name. She shied away when Richie landed his skates and he didn't have to ask what had happened. She'd been trying to stagger back to school, hard to do without her shoes in the cold weather. She wouldn't let him touch her.
"Please," Richie said, trying to control the anger in his voice. "I can carry you. I swear I won't hurt you."
She jumped and twitched, but wrapped her arms around him. He stayed close to the ground, took her to Student Health, waited out in the small, antiseptic waiting room as the nurse on duty attended to her. Backpack fed him more Physics, but he'd stopped paying attention.
He pulled out his Shock Vox. "Gear to Static. You awake, bro?"
Virgil eventually answered, groggy and unhappy. As Richie explained, the sleep left Virgil's voice.
Over the Vox, Tim said, "Get a name."
The zip strips cut off the circulation in the guy's feet as he dangled for over an hour before the cops were finally called. Virgil tried to get Tim to talk about it, but he said nothing, not even when Richie pulled off the hospital computer that the man probably was going to lose at least one foot.
They survived Finals, keeping one another awake during the exams as well as they could. The night before the dorms shut down for the holidays, they moved all the stuff they weren't taking home into the triple on the fifth floor. As soon as they were finished, Tim hopped on his cycle and drove away with barely a good-bye.
Virgil's dad got there ten minutes too late to see Tim.
Three days after Christmas, and the hardest part about getting away was finding yet another excuse that Sharon would believe. She glared at him, more than usual, every time he gave his reasons for going out at night with and without Richie. Even with Pops helping, suggesting things that Virgil suddenly needed to get from the store or asking him to take something over to Richie's mom, Sharon was getting suspicious.
Vigil sighed. He was going to have to tell her soon, and she was going to go ballistic. He just knew it.
"You ready?" Gear asked, clipping his mask shut.
"Yeah." Virgil flipped open the communicator the Flash had given him. "Static and Gear to Watchtower. Um. Engage?"
"Transmission received," said the voice on the other end, no one he knew. Seconds later, his stomach started twisting, and he had just enough time to see Gear vanish in a bright light before ...
The transport pad on the Watchtower appeared around him. He let out a breath, and stumbled off. "Whoa."
"Yeah," said Gear, eyes wide behind his mask. They craned their necks, trying to get a good look around the place. They hadn't been invited up to the new Watchtower before this, and it was huge! It made the old Watchtower look like a sad little clubhouse in comparison.
"Hey," said Flash, zipping up to them. "You guys ready to party?" It was bizarre, looking at him eye-to-eye, and Virgil saw him move back just that fraction as he noticed too. Growth spurts were fantastic things.
"Sure!" they said almost in unison. Play cool, Virgil thought at Richie.
Richie immediately asked, "I don't have to stand in the corner this time, right?"
Flash laughed, and it was a good, warm laugh that took them both in like a not-entirely-weird hug. "C'mon. I'll introduce you to Stargirl."
The party was ... Virgil had expected more, hanging out with superheroes. There was punch (which Virgil had plenty of and which made Richie moan about his full-face mask) and a bar (which there was zero chance of their sampling and they knew it). The music was standard holiday stuff, and if it included holidays celebrated by all the members of the League, at least that meant he wouldn't have to hear "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" too many times in a row.
Mostly people stood around in bunches, chatting and trying to look comfortable while sipping drinks and not beating up bad guys. Stargirl was nice, though. She asked about school, chatted about her friends, bitched about her stepdad-cum-crime fighting partner, and was just bubbly enough to make Virgil almost forget the reason he'd accepted the invitation (aside from the fact that the Justice League had asked him).
He saw Superman go for more punch.
"'Scuze me," he said in the middle of one of her stories. "I gotta go talk to someone." Richie turned his attention back to her, shooting glances to the lone sprig of mistletoe in a very empty corner of the room.
Virgil hurried while trying not to look like he was hurrying, and got to the punch bowl before Superman left. "Hi, Superman!"
"Hi, Static. Having fun?"
"Sure. Thanks for inviting us." Superman smiled hugely at him and took a swallow of his punch. Virgil refilled his own cup. I'm standing on the Watchtower sipping punch with Superman. He so didn't care how much Sharon yelled at him later.
"We're talking about expanding membership again. If you two aren't busy this summer, you might want to consider joining up."
Warmth bloomed in his toes and worked all the way up. "You mean it?"
"We've been watching you for a while. You'd both make good additions to the League."
"I'll tell Gear. He'll freak." Superman smiled again. Virgil had read in an article once that his powers came from the sun, and when the guy smiled, Virgil could really believe that. "Um. Is Batman here tonight? I didn't see him."
The smile went away. "He hasn't been around in a while. Been spending more time in Gotham."
"Oh. I just wanted ... Anyway. Okay."
"Is it about Tim?" Superman's voice was so low, Virgil almost didn't hear him.
"You know who he is?" Superman nodded. I guess you would, wouldn't you? "Yeah. I guess."
"How is he?"
Virgil shrugged. "Seems fine to me." The hospital report poked at his conscience, but that was one time, he reasoned. "I wanted to tell Batman. He's okay."
"I'm sure he knows."
"You think he's keeping tabs?"
"Don't you?" Virgil thought about it and yeah. Batman would know.
"He's a good guy. Tim, I mean. This whole superhero thing. It's who he is. I get that." He flickered electricity between his fingers.
"Tim's not a meta."
"No, he's a Bat. That's worse."
Superman chuckled. "I suppose it is."
"I can't believe Batman just threw him away." It was only when he saw the shock on Superman's face that he realized he'd said that out loud.
"That's not ... He didn't." Virgil thought about protesting, but Superman continued, "There's a lot you don't understand. Bruce loves that kid."
"Funny way of showing it."
"Like you said, they're Bats." Virgil smiled, a little. "Look, tell Tim I said hi."
"I will." One thought overcame the others in Virgil's mind. "Hey, is he gonna get an invite to the JL, too?"
Superman refilled his cup and drained it again before he answered in an oddly formal tone: "We don't think Red Bird is going to be League material." He clapped Virgil on the shoulder, gently enough not to damage him. "Take care, Static." Then he walked away and joined a conversation with Green Arrow and some other guys Virgil had idly hero-worshiped in days past.
And then he was caught. On the one hand, Superman had asked him and Richie to join the League, and on the other, he'd also said Tim wasn't invited. Great. Just great.
The overhead fluorescents in the room gave all three of them headaches, so they kept those off and lit the room with desk lamps and the constant glow from the computer monitors. Richie'd been reluctant to let Tim have free run through his system; he had everything optimized to where he could access data so fast it was like a kind of telepathy. Tim's upgrades changed the system and made it harder for him to find things, just a little. And then Tim figured out how to tap into the school's ethernet with ten times the regular access speed, and tossed up a firewall second only to the one on the computer in the Batcave.
The other guys on the floor called it the Cave. Richie cringed when he heard them at first, wondering what that was going to do to Tim. But Tim just got a tight little smile. The next morning, a sign reading "The Cave" was on their door and Tim had even drawn a very tiny bat in the corner.
Crazy was relative, Richie figured.
Virgil had sworn him to secrecy for now about the whole League thing. Richie got that. It wasn't real yet, no need to bother Tim with telling him the Big Guys didn't want him to play with them. "And maybe," Richie'd said, "by summer he'll have shown them he's good enough for them." He wasn't sure he believed it, though.
Other than the League thing — and it was a big thing and he so wanted to tell when he could — Winter Break hadn't been so hot. His dad had been in a foul mood the whole time, and didn't want to hear about his son's college exploits which at least saved Richie the trouble of lying.
Also, Frieda had come out, and he was having trouble wrapping his head around that, and it didn't seem quite fair and didn't seem right and he didn't think he was freaking or anything, but she seemed happy, and Daisy wasn't at all freaking or she was hiding it better and if he'd managed to get Stargirl under the mistletoe, it might have been a little easier to deal with, but no.
Richie was just as happy to get back to school. Things were actually normal there, for his current definition of normal.
The new semester meant new schedules. Freshman Engineering gave way to Circuits. Tim had dropped Bio in favor of a one-semester Intro to Chem course that he was pretty sure he could sleep through and still pass. Without even discussing it, all three had replaced their foreign language classes to slog through English 101 instead. Science and math held no fears for Tim, but now he was being asked to write about early American poetry and this he felt was unfair.
"We're studying to be engineers," he grumbled one night while gearing up for patrol. "Why the hell do I care what some guy two hundred years ago thought about a butterfly?" The B minus on his paper discussing that poem stung. English was a slack-off course. He wasn't supposed to have to think.
"Engineers need to recite poetry to get girls to go out with them," Virgil said over the top of his book. He'd at least managed to get into a modern American novel class. He got to read Toni Morrison and John Irving. Tim had to deal with girls who swooned over Emily Dickinson's death-obsessed angstfest. He'd had enough of brooding and darkness, thank you.
"Later," he said, opening the window.
"Later," Richie called from in front of his computer. Virgil just kind of waved. Tim rolled his eyes.
Outside, it was better. Outside, he could breathe in the crisp air as he danced from rooftop to rooftop, and yeah, okay, so it was dark, but it wasn't depressing dark and it wasn't brooding dark.
It was just the night, the only old friend who had yet to abandon him.
"You should stay in tonight," Dick had said.
"I'm fine."
"You're not sleeping and you're doubling your meds. I can call Doctor Nichols right now. Maybe he can adjust your dose."
"I. Don't. Need. Doctor. Fucking. Nichols."
Dick had dropped it, but Tim had felt eyes on him behind Nightwing's mask, and yeah, maybe he'd left the guy who'd beaten up those two prostitutes with more bruises than he needed to, but he'd been careful not to break a single bone.
Little steps.
The night called, and Tim forgot about Dick as he answered.
"Hey, Daisy.
"That'd be great! I can reserve a room for you on our floor. Or you could get a hotel room. Okay.
"Richie's doing good. Yeah, I think he was kind of surprised. Um. You're not gonna tell me ... No no! Of course I don't think ... I was just ...
"Okay, yeah. See you Saturday. Bye."
Most of the Bang Babies had been cured a few years ago, but a few metas still showed up from time to time. A small gang set up shop near the college, terrorizing people, robbing the college kids, generally causing trouble. The three of them went in together, and it was great. It was like the old days, when it'd just been him and Gear and the fight, except there was Red Bird behind them with birdarangs flying with deadly accuracy.
It made the low grade on his Chem test the next day a little easier to bear.
"Hello?" Virgil listened for a sec. "It's for you."
Tim grabbed the phone as Virgil went back to studying. "Hello?"
"Tim, it's Barbara." He froze.
"What do you want?" Virgil tensed, then continued to pretend he wasn't listening.
"How ... how are you? We haven't talked in a while."
"We don't have anything to talk about."
"Tim. Look. I just wanted to say hi. Is that so bad?"
"Where did you get this number?"
"I asked Alfred."
"Tell him not to bother calling again." He slammed the phone down. Virgil pored diligently over his notes, whistling slightly. Tim fumed, tried getting his cool back, couldn't.
Babs had chosen sides, had chosen him. She didn't get to play nice now. He wanted to shout at her over the dead line but all he could do was stand there shaking.
The phone rang again. Tim stared at it, didn't answer. Virgil looked up at him. A bright purple charge flew from his finger. The phone smoked and fused and silenced.
"Oops," Virgil said. "Sorry about that. Guess I don't know my own strength."
"Guess not," Tim said. But he could breathe again.
Alfred sent a big box of treats as an apology. Virgil and Richie privately agreed Tim should fight with him more often if it meant brownies. God knew the food in the cafeteria was getting worse. Virgil and Tim had switched off shifts, and now that Virgil knew what went into the lunch menu, he was just as happy to live on potato chips and cheese sandwiches for both meals he managed to attend. Richie usually dragged himself out of bed in time to grab breakfast. He swore the egg dishes they served were edible and could easily be washed down with a few doughnuts. Virgil teased him about the paunch he'd seen Richie with in the future to which Richie always responded with a mumble about going to the gym later. Virgil himself preferred the extra ten minutes of sleep.
Tim lived on coffee, salads and the occasional pizza, and Virgil was starting to wonder if he slept at all. Most nights when Virgil was coming home late from a patrol, he'd find Tim sitting up in bed, sometimes studying by a penlight, sometimes just staring out at the night. The nights Tim had patrol, he wouldn't wake either of them until it was time to hit the showers in the morning.
Something in the way he stood, something in the way he watched. Tim wasn't sure what it was, but at the moment, the man in the button-down shirt and khakis was the center of Red Bird's attention.
He'd gone out early tonight. He'd been going out early a lot of nights lately, when it was his turn. Sometimes when it wasn't. Tonight was Saturday, finals were in a week, and he should be studying. Instead, he'd dressed and gone out even before dusk had crept its way across the city. Proper night had almost descended, and when Virgil was finished reviewing his Circuits notes, Static would join him. Right now, he was alone, save for the man he followed from the rooftops.
The man's attitude was familiar, but it was only when his head snaked around to follow a kid on a bike that Red Bird's conscious mind caught on to what his subconscious had been telling him for the past half-hour. The man was hunting.
Silent as the grave, Red Bird cast a grapple out, swung himself to the next roof.
The kid on the bike was maybe eight or nine. He had hair of that sandy color that wasn't quite blond but wasn't light brown either, and he wore short-sleeves and ripped jean shorts in the warm May evening. Twenty years later, Tim's oldest boy Ben would be that same age and he would wake from nightmares where Ben was on that bike and wearing those clothes.
The bike slowed down, then stopped. The kid looked around, maybe realizing he wasn't where he was supposed to be and that it was getting late.
The man was fast, not quite speedster fast but so fast Red Bird wouldn't have seen him if he hadn't been watching. One hand over the boy's mouth, the other clenched around both arms, and the bike hadn't completely toppled by the time they were out of sight.
Red Bird ran across the rooftop and slid down a fire escape. He heard nothing but the beating of his own heart, and had to pause for a precious second to listen for footsteps. The man was quiet, but not quiet enough.
Red Bird hit the pavement and rolled to cushion the fall. The man hadn't gone far into the alley, just enough to be out of sight of the street.
He saw the kid's eyes, wide and scared.
Later, he wouldn't remember anything after that but a kind of red haze and the crunch of bone under his gauntleted fists.
"Red Bird!" He sensed the wet slap of flesh on the concrete and a strong hand on his shoulder, easily shrugged off.
"Enough!" He flew off his feet, tingling, and was pinned against a metal dumpster. His fists pumped out, punched the air until they registered there was nothing to hit, went limp to his sides.
The kid was crying. The man wasn't moving and his face was a mess. Static knelt down to the man and checked his pulse. "God," he breathed. The man moaned.
Static turned his attention to the kid. "Are you okay?" The kid's mouth opened and shut, but no noise came out. Static pulled out his Shock Vox. "Gear. We're at the corner of Third and West. Call the police and get here now." He turned back to the little boy. "Do you know who I am?"
The kid nodded. "Good. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you. Do you believe me?" The kid nodded again. "My friend Gear is coming. He's gonna take you home, okay?"
"Okay," came the whispered reply.
"I can take him," Red Bird said.
"No," said Static. The pulse of electricity binding him to the dumpster didn't fade. He twitched as the occasional charge grounded through him, but otherwise, it was warm, almost soothing in a weird way. Virgil had never zapped him before.
When Gear got there, he stared at Red Bird until Static grabbed his arm and told him what to tell the boy's parents. Without further explanation, he took the kid home.
Sirens blared nearby. Static pulled the energy off him. "Get on the roof. Wait for me."
He didn't hear what Static told the cops. The newspaper would say that a child abductor had been caught in the act and that the man had a list of priors (and maybe that made it better a little and maybe it made it worse). The hospital, which hadn't fixed its firewall problems yet, said the man was in critical for over a week and had suffered permanent kidney damage. That would explain the blood Tim found on his boots. If anything ever could.
Thinking was hard, and Tim stopped it gratefully.
In observe mode alone, he heard the rumble of the cops' voices if not their words, watched the flickers of red and blue lighting the buildings around them like Christmas lights, felt the warm night air against the tears on his face, smelled exhaust and the briefest scent of new flowers from somewhere far away.
Static joined him on the rooftop. Without words, they went together back to the dorm. Without words, they crept in through the window. Without words, they stripped off the uniforms, Virgil's to be hung in the secret compartment of the closet, Tim's to puddle darkly in a stained pile on the floor. It was only in the showers, as Tim watched the pink swirls at the drain, that he heard Virgil from the next stall over.
"You're done."
"I know." Pink swirls, followed by soapy swirls, followed by clear, hot water.
Tim hadn't said good-bye. He'd left a cellphone number and a post office box address, and the Red Bird costume. Finals were over and he was transferring to another school and that was that.
Virgil was on one last patrol of the area. His dad would be there in the morning to take them both home. His neck of the woods would be safer, and this one would be less safe. There was no way to protect everywhere, protect everyone, and maybe that's why half the League was more than a little insane.
He touched down for a breather in an alley. A shadow emerged from the other shadows.
"I never throw anything away."
Virgil tried to cover his surprise. "Could've fooled me."
Batman said, "He was broken. I couldn't take the chance that he'd hurt someone else."
"You didn't keep him from going out with us."
"The only way I could have was to stop him completely. I wasn't ready to do that."
"And now?"
"He needed to be the one to decide it was over. He's finished. No more costumes, no more masks. His choice."
He tried to picture putting away the Static costume, the Static life, forever just because of what someone else did. "It isn't fair. What happened."
"No."
"What's he going to do now?" The silence stretched between them, and the shadows deepened, until Virgil wasn't sure Batman was even still there.
"He'll go to school somewhere that doesn't have a hero, and he'll try to live a normal life. He may even get one, eventually." The word "normal" hung in the air. Their kind didn't get normal, as a rule.
But that kid who was going to be Batman someday had told him — would tell him — that Virgil was going to have a son and maybe that was something like normal, if family ever could be.
"You should call him," Virgil said, but Batman was gone and he was talking to himself in the warm night air.
"Hi, Daisy. Sorry to call so late.
"Good. I couldn't sleep either.
"No reason. I just wanted to talk to someone. Richie doesn't count. No, Tim already left.
"Hey. You know how I told you Richie and me might have a summer job lined up? Yeah, that internship thing. Well, I'm thinking we're not doing it this year. Just gonna hang out at home, spend time with everybody. The job'll be there next year.
"They'll still take us. Yeah I'm sure.
"Hey, if you're not doing anything tomorrow night, maybe we can get together for some pizza. Sounds good. I'll come by your place. Six. Cool.
"Bye." click "Love you."
The End