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thejusticelounge2013-07-06 08:50 am
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2013-07-06 08:50 am
bats don't cry
Bette brings over two mugs of tea to the couch, and curls her legs under her as she sits next to Dick, turned to face him.
Dick takes a mug and holds it in both hands, staring at the liquid in silence.
She sits in their shared silence a while, and takes a sip of the hot liquid. “Same timing, same brand…I still can’t make it as good a Alfred’s tea," she ventures.
Dick starts to open his mouth, but any normal quip is missing. Instead, he just stares at the tea a little longer before finally, “I’m sorry, Bette."
"Dick…you don’t have to apologize for being ill. I’m not upset with you, I’m just really worried for you. Can you help me help you?" she asks him softly. She hopes he will tell her what he needs from her now, and that she won’t have to pry it from his doctor, Leslie Thompkins.
Finally, he sips his tea, the heat bringing him back out of his thoughts. He’d talked it out with Guy, he’d talked it out with Leslie, and now he just has to keep talking. That’s what will make it easier. “I’ll try, Bette. I should be all right in a couple days. I’m sorry for worrying you." Yeah, that’s talking, right?
"I know, Love, and I forgive you,” Bette touches his knee. “But you don’t have to apologize for this anymore. I love you, and things will get better. Do you have any idea what the root of this is, or are you still figuring that out?"
He half chuckles. “The root root? Probably the death of my parents. Pick any of the things I’ve seen since I’ve been Robin. I think what really triggered it was Tara— and Blockbuster. That’s when I first started taking them, after that. No one else knew…. I didn’t want anyone to." He takes a sip and sighs. “This time…everything that happened with Guy just sent me off. Leslie thinks the fear toxin interfered with the medication I was on, even after I was cured, that somehow it was just…it threw something off."
"That makes sense," she nods, her hand still on Dick’s knee. “So…your medication is straightened out and it’ll take affect in time. What else did Leslie want you to do? What do you need me to do?"
He lays his hand on top of hers. “Leslie said she thought maybe a retreat would be good for me, go somewhere by myself and just…think. I need you to be patient with me, really patient. I need you to know that anything I say with… with regards to how I feel and to you and my confusion, it’s not ever against you. I haven’t dealt with some things I should’ve, so now it might hurt a bit worse."
Bette swallows, and does her best to not reveal to him her own feelings at that moment. “How long a retreat do you need? Where will you go?"
Dick shakes his head. “I don’t know. I was thinking about maybe tracking down my father’s family, travelling with them, but I don’t know. I lost contact with them a long time ago. I’m still trying to decide if that’s good for me. I mean, I just got my job back. I don’t know if I—" He shakes his head. “No, Captain will understand. I don’t think it’ll be more than a week. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just hole up in the Watchtower and…. No, I’d be too tempted to see people, then. I’ll figure something out."
"Whatever you need, Love, I’ll support it. Just as long as you come back to me when you’re done."
His breath catches and he looks down at the floor. “I… I’ll try my best…."
"What’s wrong, Love?" She puts her tea down on the coffee table, and lays a gentle hand over his shoulders. “Dick…what is it?"
He sits still, for once not wanting to move in case his movement read wrong. "….I’m still in love with Guy."
Bette feels the stab in her heart, but she knows any reaction she shows him will only make the man she loves feel worse than he does already - and she can’t do that. She won’t allow herself to do that. “I understand," she says as neutrally as possible. “That must be so difficult for you, Dick. Does he know?"
Dick takes a breath. “I… Yes. I think he does. I haven’t said it outright, but…he must know."
She wants desperately to hug herself, cry, ball her hands into fists of rage. She’d told him she didn’t want to be a rebound. He promised her that she wasn’t. He’d assured her this wasn’t a mistake, that he wanted her. She’d given him her heart…and more. Her heart he can return to her, but not the rest. But she doesn’t pull her hand from his back like it’s been burned. “When do you think you’ll be leaving?"
He rubs his head, fighting off a migraine. “In a couple days. I’m gonna call the Captain tomorrow and talk to her, tell her what’s going on, figure out what to do." He turns his head to look at her knees, not able to look any higher yet. "…I’m sorry, Bette. I love you. I do. I think we— I don’t know that this’ll make it any better, but… I think we’re really good together, and we could be, just…not now." He finally looks up and meets her eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you, but I know I have. You shouldn’t forgive me for that." He shakes his head and grabs his mug of tea, looking away once more. “I don’t know what’s talking right now. I’m so sorry."
"I’m fine, Dick," she assures him with the lie. “You said yourself that when you say these things it’s not against me." Her eyes bring her to stare at her knees as well. “We have been good together, I agree. Just…not now. I understand." If she says it aloud enough times, she might even believe it. “Should I give you space, now? Until you feel we could be good together again?"
"I— No, I… I’d rather not be alone yet." He looks at her for a long moment, then leans over and rests his forehead on her shoulder, eyes shut. The look of her, her scent, the little contact they have…it all makes something flutter inside him. But the flutter is dampened, burdened by something that doesn’t let it spark the way it should and that saddens him. "…Thank you. For everything. I don’t ever want to lose you."
Bette wants to tell him he never will lose her, mostly because she wants that to be true, more than anything. But she can’t. “You’re welcome Dick. I’ll stay…I’ll stay with you a few more days, until you leave on your retreat, so you don’t have to be alone until you need to be."
"You can stay here when I leave,” he nods, “You don’t have to move immediately…."
"Dick… I can’t stay here if we’re not together. I mean, together in the heart. I’m doing my best to understand, but if you don’t think we can be good together right now…then that means we’re better apart."
He looks up at her and nods, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I…." He sighs. “Thanks for staying with me till I go, though. And thanks for… You’ve done so much for me."
"Of course, Dick.” Bette takes his hand and squeezes, “I’ve always been your friend. I hope nothing will ever change that. You’d….do the same for me, I’m sure…" Don’t lose it. Hold on, until he’s asleep. “Are you tired? Do you want to sleep a while? It’s been a long day…"
Dick starts to shake his head. “No, I…" A wave of fatigue washes over him and he nods. “I think maybe I should." He squeezes her hand and stands, heading toward the spare bedroom. “I’m gonna crash in here. It’s darker… You— Goodnight, Bette. Sleep well."
"You too, Dick…sleep well…" She waits until she hears his door close, and then clamps a hand over her mouth, letting the tears flow silently. She goes to the room, to the bed they’d called theirs, and lay down, sobbing into the pillow that still smelled like him.
Kyle comes off a shift of monitor duty and heads for the coffee carrall, waving to Bette as he goes by. “Morning, chica. You’re up here early." Kyle grins at her as he pours from the coffee pod. “You teaching a class today or something? Do they even have school anymore? I don’t know."
Bette smiles as best as she can, “Good morning, Kyle. No, not teaching. Just felt restless, and was up early, thought I’d make myself useful. The crime lab’s full though, so I’m catching up on League PR. What brings you here this hour?"
Kyle nods over to the hallway he came from. “Just coming off monitor duty. Oh right, League PR…how’s that going for you?"
Bette looks at her Waynetech tablet regretfully, “I need to get more news from the League itself. All I’ve been tweeting is stuff we’re doing for rescue work, but people want to know in advance when they can see their favourite heroes. Public appearances, I’d like to be able to tweet about two per week, I don’t think that’s out of reach for a League our size. What do you think?"
Kyle leans against the table where she’s at, taking a gulp of his coffee. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Everything’s all gatherings and public spaces for the summer in the States right now anyway, so. You thinking of just having this all Stateside?"
"Well, language barriers permitting, global would be better, but I think the majority can be in North America since that’s where Godfrey did the most damage. I’ve got Captain Marvel scheduled for a children’s community picnic day in Philadelphia later this week…that will be a good fit for him, I think." She gestures to the chair opposite to her.
"Want to take a load off, or are you tired of sitting?"
"I am, y’know? I am tired of sitting. Sitting sucks." Kyle smiles, half-joking. “Ohhhh I see. This is all damage control from the Godfrey stuff. Yeah, then that makes sense to keep it in the States."
"Well, not all of it…I mean, I think it’s also to make it a lot more difficult for anyone like Godfrey to ruin our image so easily in the future. And realistically, that could happen anywhere in the world. But for now, certainly where our image matters most in the political scene, the U.S. has the most impact." She stifles a yawn.
Kyle nods. “Looks like you got a date with Mr Sandman, nena." He wants to stop there, but he asks anyway, just in case. What with Damian avoiding Gotham with her menagerie and now Bette doing early morning PR stuff… “Everything okay in Bludhaven?"
Bette heaves a (by Bette’s standards) despairing sigh. “Everything is not…I can’t lie to you. Dick and I…I guess we’re…taking a break? He’s having a rough time."
Kyle does choose to sit now, and he sets his coffee mug down. “Gah…how’re you doing?" Kyle smiles a little. “Sorry I didn’t mean that to come out as Joey Tribbiani as it sounded, that really sucks, Bette."
"I’m…really not sure how I’m doing." Even Bette’s expertly-applied makeup hasn’t entirely hidden the fact how tired she is, or that her eyes had cried so much through the long, lonely night. “I don’t have a lot to compare it to, I guess." Her voice was flat, numb-sounding.
Kyle reaches out and cups his larger hand over her smaller one, rubbing his thumb along the hard bumps of her knuckles, in a back and forth stroke. “You can…punch something. That’s sometimes what I do when I don’t feel anything."
"I feel a lot… I just don’t want to right now, right here, or…" Her voice breaks for a moment and she sucks in a breath. “I don’t want to start crying again and make a scene." She seems to miss the fact that the cafeteria is almost completely empty. “Everything just hurts right now, and I can’t DO anything about what is happening. I can’t change what is happening. And I don’t want to start feeling sorry for myself, no matter how unfair all this seems."
"But…why not?" Probably not the perfect question to ask, but Kyle’s never been the ‘comforting friend’ to a woman recently broken-up. That was a realm for girlfriends, not manly macho men like him. He wants her to keep talking because he does know one thing: bottling stuff up made things fester. He just hopes he doesn’t fuck this up, all things considered.
"Aww Bette, c’mon. Seems like a good reason to feel just a bit sorry for yourself. Rough times are rough for everyone involved." Kyle looks around the cafeteria. It’s empty, but expansive. “You wanna..help…me? Out? I need to kinda do some plant-related damage control in the arboretum, it’s nice and quiet there."
Bette feels like she’s barely holding on, and the arboretum seems a much better place to lose her composure than here in the cafeteria. Even if someone walked in and found her a sobbing mess, it’s more forgivable location, in her mind, than a place others were trying to enjoy their meal or morning coffee.
"Yeah…let’s…I like the arboretum." She stood and slid her tablet into her tote bag, and followed.
Kyle nods and stands, waiting for her to gather her things (and her resolve) before heading to the Arboretum. “Damian brought all his animals up to the Watchtower," Kyle says, keeping sound flowing between them to bridge the path between cafeteria to arboretum. “All of them! They caused a mess so we banked them in the arboretum for a bit, where…they kept causing a mess, ha ha. Kids. They’re crazy." Kyle says fondly, trying not to think of what Damian said next. Kyle will think about that later. By then they reach the arboretum.
"C’mon nena. There’s a bench by the koi pond."
"Are his animals still there?" she asks a bit hopefully. Titus was always friendly to her when she lived with Dick at the manor, and Batcow had the most beautiful eyes…and Viola was the cutest thing ever. She follows wherever Kyle leads her. Right now thinking or making choices is too hard. She can, for example, think of a half dozen places she could move to from Dick’s apartment - and she wants none of them.
Kyle shakes his head ruefully. “Naw. All animals have been discharged back to their home. But here —" Kyle sat her down and constructed a warm bundle of fluffy puppy. He’d done this for another woman once, once upon a time. That was a long, long time ago. This time the puppy is much more well-defined, and as Kyle poured his will into it, it becomes almost fully-realized. He holds it up for her to take, if she wanted.
"Hi, Ms. Bette, woof. I’m your buddy, woof woof." Okay it was stupid, making up dog-voices for a full-grown woman who was heart-broken. “Puppies do make things feel a bit better."
Something between a laugh and a sob leaves her lips, and she reaches for the happy little thing, hugging it to her broken heart. Its tail whips against her arm and it licks her face without restraint. “You’re adorable," she cries and smiles simultaneously, then glances up to meet Kyle’s eyes, “And the puppy is too."
Kyle is turned to look at her, slinging one arm around the back of the bench. “You…" Kyle casts back to all the romcoms he’d watched with Alex. "…deserve better? No - I didn’t mean that, I mean, I know you and Dick, you guys are…I know how much you love him. I think everyone knows how much you do." Kyle is silent for a moment, letting the puppy do its puppy-thing.
"Is it a rough time like stormy then calm waters? Or rough time like…sinking?" He’s blunt, but only because sometimes it’s easier to talk about things if they’re bald-faced and out in the open. Given Bette’s love of adrenalin and open nature, Kyle figures she might feel that way too.
"He’s kind of crashed completely. I don’t know exactly what triggered it, but they told me he had some kind of an anxiety attack yesterday afternoon. Guy took him to his doctor, and…apparently he’s been treated for it for a long time. He didn’t want anyone to know…oh!" She looks at him a little alarmed.
"I’m so out of it, I don’t even know what I’m saying…please don’t share that with anyone, that wasn’t my secret to tell…"
"That’s okay…" Kyle considers this, particularly in regards to Guy and Dick, the both of them being…well anyway. Kyle shakes his head. “I’ll let you in on something too - Dick and I kinda had a falling out a couple days ago. I just…we got different opinions on things that just don’t reconcile. So. Hearing this just sort of puts more pieces together for me and…it is sad. For Dick. His situation is unfortunate for him."
Bette wants to bitterly point out that it’s no picnic for her, but she refrains. There was nothing Kyle had said that was inaccurate, and she pushes away that surge of bitterness. She knows what bitterness has done for others, what it’s driven them to becoming. She’s determined to be the holdout for staying happy in that group, because Steph doesn’t deserve to be the only one.
"It is," she agrees quietly, soothing the excitable puppy in her arms. “So to answer your question, it’s been rough-calm-rough on the surface, if you look at the long term, and it’s been a sinking unbeknownst to anyone. His doctor thinks the fear toxin last year interfered with his medication, and made it stop working properly."
Kyle watches her carefully, since he wasn’t sure how she’d gauge what he said. If she was still eager to placate and pacify things when it came to Dick. Instead her response comes after a while, soft as she pets the puppy hard (the puppy loves it and wags its bushy tail). Kyle holds her shoulder.
"It’s awful for you too, Bette. It’s not all about Dick, all of this. He’s depressed and needs support; but you’re dealing with the fallout as well. What I mean is - it’s okay to feel a bit sorry for yourself, cuz, well. If you want to, you should. Even strong people need respite when things get rough." Kyle’s reminded suddenly of Kate, and Steph for that matter; and his surge of sympathy amplifies as he cradles her head with his hand, briefly. “You’re very strong."
Another sob catches in her throat, mostly from hearing that out loud, what she is refusing herself - permission to make this about her as well. Her eyes fill up and Kyle’s image blurs, and she feels the wetness on her cheek as her resolve crumbles.
"I don’t feel very strong right now," she admits through more sobs. “I’m sorry…" She doesn’t know why she’s apologizing. For crying? For making a liar out of him? For admitting weakness regardless of whether or not she is actually weak? Yes…that must be it… “Bats don’t cry.”
"Everybody cries. Even me. And it’s Lantern policy to get one’s tear ducts removed when we get our rings, we’re just that studly. Hey…c’mon…" Kyle scooches just a bit closer, enough to squeeze her shoulders and let her lean against him. He gives her a construct hanky and keeps squeezing her, letting his jaw rest against her blonde crown as he looks at the pond, the koi swirling in round patterns. The puppy stays quiet and nestled in her lap, licking at her arm and leaving green trails.
"You’re strong. This’s what makes you strong, nena."
Bette doesn’t hesitate to lean on him, desperate for the human contact. The handkerchief is a blessing too, and so considerate of him. His gentle jokes elicit choked, singular laughs from her that break up the tears that feel like they will never stop, and she thanks him between sniffles into the handkerchief. If she had a brother, she’d want him to be like Kyle.
"Thank you, Kyle," she says much more clearly, when he calls her strong.
"De nada, it’s true," Kyle says. “I saw Bruce cry once too. A single, perfect crystalline tear. It slid down his cheek, made a slight grating sound, if I remember correctly. Also there was a breeze billowing his cape out. And cherry blossoms in the wind. And he was on a cliffside, in the sunset. What I’m saying is - when Bats do cry, it’s pretty damn epic."
Bette laughs at the ridiculous mental image, of her cousin’s tear making a grating sound, and all the rest of it. She laughs too long, too unevenly, too many stops and starts, and it isn’t for a some time before she realizes that she’s no longer laughing - somewhere almost seamlessly, it had changed to crying. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, the variant temperature and texture of the construct non-fabric something she would never get used to, but she didn’t, couldn’t notice it.
"It h-hurtsss…it hurts so much…" she manages between sobs. “G-d, why? Why are you doing this?"
Kyle turns a bit more, hugging her so she can rest more comfortably against him. The puppy flops to the ground, curling around her feet. Kyle rubs her back, holding the nape of her neck and pushing the hair away from it so she remains cool. For some reason, Jenny always liked having her neck stay cool whenever she started to really, completely cry. He shushes at her, but not really to silence her, since madre de dios, she’s got every right to just cry as much as she wants.
"I know…it hurts when it feels like there’s nothing you can do or say to someone who…who doesn’t wanna be with you. I’m sorry, Bette…"
Bette can only squeeze him back a little harder in acknowledgement of his words. His shushing really is calming, almost like her mother’s comforting when she was a girl. It takes time, but she does finally run out of tears for the time being. Her head is throbbing, and she feels emotionally exhausted. The lack of sleep probably doesn’t help either, but she knows she won’t be able to sleep right now. “I’ll be okay, I guess. I’m not the first person to feel this way, right?" Her voice sounds almost as numb as she feels, except for her headache.
"Doesn’t make it any less sucky. Still..the good thing being there’s a whole lotta songs and movies you can watch that you can probably hella relate to right now, heh. I…" Kyle pulls back, looking at her curiously as he thumbs away a stray tear on her cheek. “You’ve never…this’s kinda all new for you, isn’t it? Geez, no wonder." No wonder she’d held back her feelings for Dick all this time. Only to have to all come crashing on her in the end anyway, despite all of the ways she’d tried to overcome. For someone who falls in love very easily, it is a little heartbreaking to see the eggs she’d placed in her one basket, all of them cracking. Also not an analogy he’d share with her, because it was stupid, but. It made sense in his head. “Geez."
"Yeah…I’m not exactly proud of being a decade behind every other girl my age when if comes to matters of love," Bette looks down. “I’m not…I mean, I wasn’t a total innocent before Dick. I’d dated before, but usually breakups were my idea, or something we realized together. But I was never in love with those boys. Usually…they wanted things more physical than I did, that’s all. I wanted sex to mean something. I guess that’s a terribly old-fashioned idea…"
Kyle shrugs, because he doesn’t really think it is, or that she’s behind anyone. But he’s not a woman, it’s not his place to dispute societal pressures that he can’t possibly understand. Instead he nods and rubs her shoulders. “Ahhh sorry. I just meant it must be an extra helping of difficult for you, trying to work through this. Like, not fun to experience at any age, but especially when it’s the first time. What’re you…what’s gonna happen now?"
Bette gives him a grateful smile for him not judging her, certainly not like she judges herself. She draws in a shaky breath, but it’s also an emotionally cleansing one. Crying was now done for the time being, thank goodness. “Now…I guess I move out. He’s going away, he said. I don’t think I should still be there when he gets back."
"Oh mierda…I remember he told me you guys just moved in…together oh dios." Every time Kyle has a new realization about this, it just looks more and more rough for the world of Bette and Dick, and Bette separately as well. Rough is an understatement. It’s more like being dragged across a grater and then wearing a hair-shirt and then drowning in a burst dam. He quickly keeps going.
"I…ah well. Did you want…some…California? You can come stay with me for a bit. Yeah! Hal’s away right now, Lantern business in another sector. So apartment’s open if you wanted to, like, opt for miles away." Kyle himself had chosen light years away, when his relationships had ended. “We got a spare room and everything. And sun! And beach."
Bette gives him another grateful smile. There’s really so many places she could go. Her aunt and uncle’s place, the Manor, the Treehouse, Gotham U., Tim’s apartment while he’s in Europe, even here on the Watchtower. That didn’t include any of several unused safehouses, or properties Bruce would offer her at the drop of a hat if she asked. She could even go home, to her parents’ place in L.A., if she had to.
"You’re such a good friend, Kyle. And I won’t forget that I’m welcome there, thank you. I think…" She squeezed his arms, “Maybe I should be alone for a while. We’re down one Bird in Gotham/Bludhaven until Dick can pull it together, anyway, so I should stay there for now, I think. That’s where I’m needed most."
Kyle grins and nods in understanding, only slightly rolling his eyes. “Ohhhhh right right right. Duty comes first. No, I get it. Time alone and all that. And…yeah. Well, at least you, ah, got your options open when it comes to…" Kyle almost says moving on, but that sounds just a leeettle too final for this moment right now. Everything is definitely still too raw; he doesn’t need to be a genius to know that. "…figuring shit out. That’s good, good for you."
Bette nods a little, glad he isn’t disagreeing. It felt right, to stay. Moving out is as close as she wants to get right now to physically running away from her problems. And the urge to run away is very real - but she doesn’t need to leave town to do that. There are many ways to run away.
"Thanks. Diana made a really good point to me a few weeks ago, that solitude can be very empowering. I think I want to see if I can figure out what she was talking about. Feel what I need to feel, and no roommates to either burden or apologize to, y’know?"
"Gotcha," Kyle isn’t new to wanting to be completely alone. Sometimes it just felt good. Really, really good. “Diana is like, super-smart." A small niggling part of his mind wonders if she is still just ‘keeping options open’ with regards to Dick possibly returning to her. A ‘just in case’ kinda thing. He doesn’t blame her, since he has done that, himself. And hope is a big part of Bette’s psyche, Blue Lantern and all. Still he adds anyway with a grin, “Door’s always open, anyway."
Bette leans in and hugs him. “I’m so glad it is. Especially when it feels like one’s closing behind me…" She holds that hug for several beats and then wonders if Kyle might take that the wrong way. “I-I mean…relationship door closing, friend doors staying open, you know? Of course you know. Because, that’s what you meant." She tucks her hair behind one ear as she glances at the koi pond.
"What’s the trope for this, let’s see if I have this right," she half-jokes, nestled against him on the bench and ticking off her to-do list items on her fingers, “Cried on a friend’s shoulder…check. Find a place, pack my things, throw my beret high into the air as I realize I’m free to do whatever I want and go where I like, watch sad movies, listen to songs about heartbreak, eat tons of ice cream, buy new clothes, cut up pictures…no, I won’t do that…take up a new hobby…maybe skydiving stunts? Oh, or pearl diving…"
Kyle laughs and hugs her back, cradling her head again. He realized why - she had a small head, that fit well into the natural curve of his palm. She was smaller-boned than Steph, who was built sturdy. It was neat, since upon first glance they probably both could be lumped in together, like ‘two blonde women’. But there were differences, finer details that Kyle always appreciated discovering for his own aesthetic pleasures.
"My vote is skydiving stunts. Or deep sea diving environmental research? Once I took a walk on the bottom of the sea, just to see if I could. It’s funny - I can travel to the darkest edge of the universe and be cool about it, but walking the bottom of the Marianas Trench? Was like wicked-unnerving, oh man."
"Maybe we can both go together sometime?" she suggests into his chest before he releases her and she looks up at him. Her smile still isn’t its usual sparkling magic, or even her very similar-but-less-genuine pageant version, nor should anyone expect it to be. Her heart cannot summon the former and she knows there’s no point in the latter - Kyle knows she’s grieving and the only one she would be fooling is herself.
“You provide the light and air and protection from the crushing pressure, and I’ll hold your hand and tell you it’s not so scary because I’ll protect you," she teases. “But seriously? I would love to take a trip like that sometime, if you’re willing?"
His mouth slides to one side as he smirks at her, and her teasing. Kyle sits back, letting the puppy leap up onto her lap again, giving her one more enthusiastic snuffle and lick before it dissolves away.
"Yeah that would be neat, sure thing. We can…" Kyle’s eyes widen as he suddenly warms up to the idea and he sits up more. “We can see all those night creatures! The electric ones that’re attracted to light! The invertabrants! And we can search for the giant squid!! The giant squid, Bette. I heard that thing is giant. I’ll bet you could fit in one of its veins, easy."
Bette nods encouragingly. Adrenaline had been her drug of choice all these years in lieu of being loved by the boy, then later the man, for whom she’d always had feelings for. The more dangerous, the more thrilling, the better the rush. “Let’s find the giant squid, then," she agrees.
"You know, that’s probably not what they mean when they say ‘there’s plenty more fish in the sea’, Kyle, but I’m totally game for this." The excitement she wants to fully feel doesn’t quite reflect in her expression, but she knows it’s not the same as Dick’s numbness. Emotional exhaustion is why she’s numb, and sleep and distraction and sad songs and solitary empowerment are what will fix it. Maybe some ice cream. And clubbing, why not? There is also Kyle’s very first suggestion: hitting something. She would be certainly doing that tonight with any criminal element that was unlucky enough to encounter Flamebird tonight.
"Good. Maybe…" Kyle looks at her. “Maybe call Diana or your cousin, when you can," Kyle suggests as well, just because. He doesn’t know Kate Kane well, but he’s sure they’re a family who cares about each other. “Or Steph. You get what I’m trying to say, heh. I probably wasn’t the first choice to open up to, particularly cuz I’m a dude and hey - no lie: guys can be really really dumbasses, sometimes. I’m a dude, so I know."
"Truthfully? No one was my first choice to open up to. But, you were in the right place, at the right time…and I, Mr. Rayner, do not believe in coincidences." She gives him a wink and a quick glance skyward to make sure he understands her meaning, then rises to her feet, not letting go of his hands as she does, and giving them a final squeeze.
"I might call them. Maybe not right away. I have a lot of thinking to do, sleep to get, and crooks to beat up first." She releases his hands, “Thank you, for everything, Kyle. Your friends are very blessed to have you, you know."
"I’m lucky to have good friends," Kyle wriggles her hand in his own, to include her in that. He stands up, grinning. “Well, thank your God for me too, because as much as this is really tough for you, I’m glad you don’t believe in coincidences either. I would’ve offered my services as punching bag, too, Lanterns make great punching bags, ahaha. Ask any of my…" Kyle takes a breath.
"Ahhh. But anyway - beating up crooks is a good idea too, hope you find a particularly dense gang of criminals to go ballistic on, chica. You can gimme a call, whenever you want. I’ll be around. Okay?"
"Okay," she nods, rises on her toes, and gives him a sisterly peck on the cheek. “Shalom, Kyle."
She leaves him at the koi pond, pulling out her phone, and texts Bruce as she exits the arboretum:
Bruce, I need a big case tonight, prefer target-rich in faces that need rearranging, no questions asked. Got anything?
He answers in just moments:
I’ll find you something.
That’s good enough for her. She heads to the zeta tubes, and enters the code for the zeta pad closest to their - no, Dick’s - apartment.
Bette emerges from the bedroom, after having grabbed a long nap all afternoon. Dick wasn’t home when she got back from the Watchtower, not that she checked the spare bedroom where he had chosen to spend last night. She checks her comm to see if Bruce has an assignment for her yet, and hears movement in the kitchen. She clings to the numb feeling she’d had before talking to Kyle that morning, hoping it will get her through this awkward encounter. Then with a mask of nonchalance, she comes into the kitchen, opens the fridge, and grabs herself a V8.
"Sleep well?" she asks the man sitting at the small kitchen table, stirring his cereal into his milk dully.
Dick looks up at her when she comes in, his breath catching slightly, and nods. “Yeah, fine. I slept fine." In truth, he doesn’t remember sleeping much. He’d spent most of the night thinking about where to go, what to do, what he could do at this point. It didn’t feel like he had a lot of options. At some point he had passed out from sheer exhaustion, only waking up twice from noises outside. Whatever sleep he got, it wasn’t restful. He stirs his cereal some more and looks back down to his bowl. “How about you?"
"I slept well," she replies, leaning against the counter and drinking her juice, not joining him at the table. That much was true; she slept quite soundly, for the four hours she had slept. “Thanks."
He nods and eats in silence, not sure of what to say or if he should even try saying anything. He might make this worse. “I talked to the Captain today. She…said she wanted me to get well. They’re putting me on a two-week unpaid suspension, but she knows I don’t have to worry about that, so….." He lets the sentence trail off and goes back to his cereal.
Bette lowers her can of juice, “Well, that’s good news, Dick. So, you won’t have to retest for work, and by the time you’re back, the new medicine will hopefully be working for you. I’m happy for you…"
"Thanks… Thanks." He finishes his cereal awkwardly, suddenly aware of every eating habit he has. He wants to ask her how she’s doing, if she’ll be OK, to apologize again, to do…something that might make this all less horrible, but nothing comes to him. Instead, he pushes at his empty bowl and just stares.
Normally, his leg would be bouncing with this level of unreleased tension building inside him, but he’s strangely still. It’s the first stage of the new medication, he realizes, this unnatural stillness. It will pass. “I think I’m gonna go to Japan. There was a sensei who taught Bruce and then me… I think he might be able to help now."
“That’s good. I mean, that you know someone who can help. I…I wish you didn’t have to go to the other side of the world to get that help, but at least…you can get it at all." Damn it, did that sound supportive enough? What was she even DOING here if she couldn’t be at least supportive? “What are you going to tell Bruce?"
Dick takes a hard deep breath and sighs. “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to tell him this time. I just have to figure out how. That’s gonna be the hard part."
"It should be sooner rather than later. You know nothing stays secret for long in the League…" She feels a stab of guilt, knowing she had told Kyle too much already that morning.
He nods. “Yeah. I know. It’s just the thought of how that conversation will go, y’know?"
Bette tries to keep any pointedness out of her tone when she answers, “Avoiding telling him the truth will only make it hurt more later when he finds out the hard way."
He nods automatically, then suddenly looks at Bette, eyes wide even as his brow furrows in stress. “I didn’t know. I thought I was fine. I thought things were OK. I really didn’t know.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but his comm beeps from the coffee table where he’d left it. He glances at the door to the living room, debating whether he should get it or not.
The comm gets Bette’s attention as well, and she turns her head in its direction, then back at Dick. “Your comm is going off." When she sees he’s not moving, she adds, “Aren’t you going to check it?"
He jumps a little and nods, avoiding her eyes as he hurries out to get it. His breath catches in his throat when he sees who it’s from: Bruce. “[ENCRYPTED TEXT] We need to talk.”
Dick freezes for a moment, but manages to type a quick reply: “[TEXT] When?” He squeezes the comm rapidly, the lack of immediate reply making him anxious again. He walks jerkily back into the kitchen, his natural grace stifled by his tension.
Bette looks at her own comm, realizing the League hasn’t sent out anything to everyone, but Dick seems shaken. “Dick? What was it?"
“…from Bruce. It was from Bruce.” Dick sets the comm down on the table a bit harder than he expected and grabs his bowl, bringing it over to the sink to wash it.
Bette chews her lip. “What did he want?"
“He wants to talk.”
"Oh. Well…at least that takes care of one problem."
He shakes his head, “He hasn’t replied."
"When are you due at the airport?"
“Tomorrow. Well, late tonight, but… Technically tomorrow.”
That soon… "You should tell him. I’ll…give you two room. I need to patrol soon anyway."
Dick reaches out for her arm, not realizing until he’s touching her that his hand is still wet. “Will you be OK…?"
Bette stops in her tracks, and is surprised. Dick is seeing beyond himself, his own world. “I…will be. This is new for me, this kind of breaking up with someone. But I guess everyone goes through it, don’t they? I’ll be okay."
He nods and dries his hands quickly. “Bette…." He pulls her into a tight hug, hoping it will say what he can’t, and hoping it won’t make things more confusing.
Bette holds onto him, unwilling to let him go. She believes when she does, it will likely be the last that they have like this, loving each other, what there is left of that, from him. That love he can’t feel anymore for her, but still feels for Guy. “I love you, Dick. Be good, get better, and come back to your family, soon. They need you."
Dick nods and presses a tiny kiss in her hair. “I will. I love you, Bette. Thank you."
Bette doesn’t want to let go. He loves her, he says, but…they aren’t good together right now. She needs to let him go. Let go, Bette. Let him go. Slowly, she releases him, and nods. There is nothing more to be said.
"I need to get my uniform…I’ll come back for the rest tomorrow," she murmurs, and ducks into the bedroom to change. She returns, takes his hand, and squeezes it. “G-d go with you, Dick…"
He squeezes her hand once more and nods. “Thank you…. Please take care."
"You too…" She leans in, and gives him a final, tender kiss on his cheek, near his ear. And then, she turns, and is gone out the door. She doesn’t look back.
Dick watches the door for a long time. Finally, he turns away, looking around the apartment. It feels so empty suddenly. He fetches his comm and carries it with him as he goes to his bedroom. He has to pack and think. That’s all he’ll be doing once he arrives—thinking—but maybe a head start would help.
Something has to.
Dick takes a mug and holds it in both hands, staring at the liquid in silence.
She sits in their shared silence a while, and takes a sip of the hot liquid. “Same timing, same brand…I still can’t make it as good a Alfred’s tea," she ventures.
Dick starts to open his mouth, but any normal quip is missing. Instead, he just stares at the tea a little longer before finally, “I’m sorry, Bette."
"Dick…you don’t have to apologize for being ill. I’m not upset with you, I’m just really worried for you. Can you help me help you?" she asks him softly. She hopes he will tell her what he needs from her now, and that she won’t have to pry it from his doctor, Leslie Thompkins.
Finally, he sips his tea, the heat bringing him back out of his thoughts. He’d talked it out with Guy, he’d talked it out with Leslie, and now he just has to keep talking. That’s what will make it easier. “I’ll try, Bette. I should be all right in a couple days. I’m sorry for worrying you." Yeah, that’s talking, right?
"I know, Love, and I forgive you,” Bette touches his knee. “But you don’t have to apologize for this anymore. I love you, and things will get better. Do you have any idea what the root of this is, or are you still figuring that out?"
He half chuckles. “The root root? Probably the death of my parents. Pick any of the things I’ve seen since I’ve been Robin. I think what really triggered it was Tara— and Blockbuster. That’s when I first started taking them, after that. No one else knew…. I didn’t want anyone to." He takes a sip and sighs. “This time…everything that happened with Guy just sent me off. Leslie thinks the fear toxin interfered with the medication I was on, even after I was cured, that somehow it was just…it threw something off."
"That makes sense," she nods, her hand still on Dick’s knee. “So…your medication is straightened out and it’ll take affect in time. What else did Leslie want you to do? What do you need me to do?"
He lays his hand on top of hers. “Leslie said she thought maybe a retreat would be good for me, go somewhere by myself and just…think. I need you to be patient with me, really patient. I need you to know that anything I say with… with regards to how I feel and to you and my confusion, it’s not ever against you. I haven’t dealt with some things I should’ve, so now it might hurt a bit worse."
Bette swallows, and does her best to not reveal to him her own feelings at that moment. “How long a retreat do you need? Where will you go?"
Dick shakes his head. “I don’t know. I was thinking about maybe tracking down my father’s family, travelling with them, but I don’t know. I lost contact with them a long time ago. I’m still trying to decide if that’s good for me. I mean, I just got my job back. I don’t know if I—" He shakes his head. “No, Captain will understand. I don’t think it’ll be more than a week. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just hole up in the Watchtower and…. No, I’d be too tempted to see people, then. I’ll figure something out."
"Whatever you need, Love, I’ll support it. Just as long as you come back to me when you’re done."
His breath catches and he looks down at the floor. “I… I’ll try my best…."
"What’s wrong, Love?" She puts her tea down on the coffee table, and lays a gentle hand over his shoulders. “Dick…what is it?"
He sits still, for once not wanting to move in case his movement read wrong. "….I’m still in love with Guy."
Bette feels the stab in her heart, but she knows any reaction she shows him will only make the man she loves feel worse than he does already - and she can’t do that. She won’t allow herself to do that. “I understand," she says as neutrally as possible. “That must be so difficult for you, Dick. Does he know?"
Dick takes a breath. “I… Yes. I think he does. I haven’t said it outright, but…he must know."
She wants desperately to hug herself, cry, ball her hands into fists of rage. She’d told him she didn’t want to be a rebound. He promised her that she wasn’t. He’d assured her this wasn’t a mistake, that he wanted her. She’d given him her heart…and more. Her heart he can return to her, but not the rest. But she doesn’t pull her hand from his back like it’s been burned. “When do you think you’ll be leaving?"
He rubs his head, fighting off a migraine. “In a couple days. I’m gonna call the Captain tomorrow and talk to her, tell her what’s going on, figure out what to do." He turns his head to look at her knees, not able to look any higher yet. "…I’m sorry, Bette. I love you. I do. I think we— I don’t know that this’ll make it any better, but… I think we’re really good together, and we could be, just…not now." He finally looks up and meets her eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you, but I know I have. You shouldn’t forgive me for that." He shakes his head and grabs his mug of tea, looking away once more. “I don’t know what’s talking right now. I’m so sorry."
"I’m fine, Dick," she assures him with the lie. “You said yourself that when you say these things it’s not against me." Her eyes bring her to stare at her knees as well. “We have been good together, I agree. Just…not now. I understand." If she says it aloud enough times, she might even believe it. “Should I give you space, now? Until you feel we could be good together again?"
"I— No, I… I’d rather not be alone yet." He looks at her for a long moment, then leans over and rests his forehead on her shoulder, eyes shut. The look of her, her scent, the little contact they have…it all makes something flutter inside him. But the flutter is dampened, burdened by something that doesn’t let it spark the way it should and that saddens him. "…Thank you. For everything. I don’t ever want to lose you."
Bette wants to tell him he never will lose her, mostly because she wants that to be true, more than anything. But she can’t. “You’re welcome Dick. I’ll stay…I’ll stay with you a few more days, until you leave on your retreat, so you don’t have to be alone until you need to be."
"You can stay here when I leave,” he nods, “You don’t have to move immediately…."
"Dick… I can’t stay here if we’re not together. I mean, together in the heart. I’m doing my best to understand, but if you don’t think we can be good together right now…then that means we’re better apart."
He looks up at her and nods, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I…." He sighs. “Thanks for staying with me till I go, though. And thanks for… You’ve done so much for me."
"Of course, Dick.” Bette takes his hand and squeezes, “I’ve always been your friend. I hope nothing will ever change that. You’d….do the same for me, I’m sure…" Don’t lose it. Hold on, until he’s asleep. “Are you tired? Do you want to sleep a while? It’s been a long day…"
Dick starts to shake his head. “No, I…" A wave of fatigue washes over him and he nods. “I think maybe I should." He squeezes her hand and stands, heading toward the spare bedroom. “I’m gonna crash in here. It’s darker… You— Goodnight, Bette. Sleep well."
"You too, Dick…sleep well…" She waits until she hears his door close, and then clamps a hand over her mouth, letting the tears flow silently. She goes to the room, to the bed they’d called theirs, and lay down, sobbing into the pillow that still smelled like him.
Kyle comes off a shift of monitor duty and heads for the coffee carrall, waving to Bette as he goes by. “Morning, chica. You’re up here early." Kyle grins at her as he pours from the coffee pod. “You teaching a class today or something? Do they even have school anymore? I don’t know."
Bette smiles as best as she can, “Good morning, Kyle. No, not teaching. Just felt restless, and was up early, thought I’d make myself useful. The crime lab’s full though, so I’m catching up on League PR. What brings you here this hour?"
Kyle nods over to the hallway he came from. “Just coming off monitor duty. Oh right, League PR…how’s that going for you?"
Bette looks at her Waynetech tablet regretfully, “I need to get more news from the League itself. All I’ve been tweeting is stuff we’re doing for rescue work, but people want to know in advance when they can see their favourite heroes. Public appearances, I’d like to be able to tweet about two per week, I don’t think that’s out of reach for a League our size. What do you think?"
Kyle leans against the table where she’s at, taking a gulp of his coffee. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Everything’s all gatherings and public spaces for the summer in the States right now anyway, so. You thinking of just having this all Stateside?"
"Well, language barriers permitting, global would be better, but I think the majority can be in North America since that’s where Godfrey did the most damage. I’ve got Captain Marvel scheduled for a children’s community picnic day in Philadelphia later this week…that will be a good fit for him, I think." She gestures to the chair opposite to her.
"Want to take a load off, or are you tired of sitting?"
"I am, y’know? I am tired of sitting. Sitting sucks." Kyle smiles, half-joking. “Ohhhh I see. This is all damage control from the Godfrey stuff. Yeah, then that makes sense to keep it in the States."
"Well, not all of it…I mean, I think it’s also to make it a lot more difficult for anyone like Godfrey to ruin our image so easily in the future. And realistically, that could happen anywhere in the world. But for now, certainly where our image matters most in the political scene, the U.S. has the most impact." She stifles a yawn.
Kyle nods. “Looks like you got a date with Mr Sandman, nena." He wants to stop there, but he asks anyway, just in case. What with Damian avoiding Gotham with her menagerie and now Bette doing early morning PR stuff… “Everything okay in Bludhaven?"
Bette heaves a (by Bette’s standards) despairing sigh. “Everything is not…I can’t lie to you. Dick and I…I guess we’re…taking a break? He’s having a rough time."
Kyle does choose to sit now, and he sets his coffee mug down. “Gah…how’re you doing?" Kyle smiles a little. “Sorry I didn’t mean that to come out as Joey Tribbiani as it sounded, that really sucks, Bette."
"I’m…really not sure how I’m doing." Even Bette’s expertly-applied makeup hasn’t entirely hidden the fact how tired she is, or that her eyes had cried so much through the long, lonely night. “I don’t have a lot to compare it to, I guess." Her voice was flat, numb-sounding.
Kyle reaches out and cups his larger hand over her smaller one, rubbing his thumb along the hard bumps of her knuckles, in a back and forth stroke. “You can…punch something. That’s sometimes what I do when I don’t feel anything."
"I feel a lot… I just don’t want to right now, right here, or…" Her voice breaks for a moment and she sucks in a breath. “I don’t want to start crying again and make a scene." She seems to miss the fact that the cafeteria is almost completely empty. “Everything just hurts right now, and I can’t DO anything about what is happening. I can’t change what is happening. And I don’t want to start feeling sorry for myself, no matter how unfair all this seems."
"But…why not?" Probably not the perfect question to ask, but Kyle’s never been the ‘comforting friend’ to a woman recently broken-up. That was a realm for girlfriends, not manly macho men like him. He wants her to keep talking because he does know one thing: bottling stuff up made things fester. He just hopes he doesn’t fuck this up, all things considered.
"Aww Bette, c’mon. Seems like a good reason to feel just a bit sorry for yourself. Rough times are rough for everyone involved." Kyle looks around the cafeteria. It’s empty, but expansive. “You wanna..help…me? Out? I need to kinda do some plant-related damage control in the arboretum, it’s nice and quiet there."
Bette feels like she’s barely holding on, and the arboretum seems a much better place to lose her composure than here in the cafeteria. Even if someone walked in and found her a sobbing mess, it’s more forgivable location, in her mind, than a place others were trying to enjoy their meal or morning coffee.
"Yeah…let’s…I like the arboretum." She stood and slid her tablet into her tote bag, and followed.
Kyle nods and stands, waiting for her to gather her things (and her resolve) before heading to the Arboretum. “Damian brought all his animals up to the Watchtower," Kyle says, keeping sound flowing between them to bridge the path between cafeteria to arboretum. “All of them! They caused a mess so we banked them in the arboretum for a bit, where…they kept causing a mess, ha ha. Kids. They’re crazy." Kyle says fondly, trying not to think of what Damian said next. Kyle will think about that later. By then they reach the arboretum.
"C’mon nena. There’s a bench by the koi pond."
"Are his animals still there?" she asks a bit hopefully. Titus was always friendly to her when she lived with Dick at the manor, and Batcow had the most beautiful eyes…and Viola was the cutest thing ever. She follows wherever Kyle leads her. Right now thinking or making choices is too hard. She can, for example, think of a half dozen places she could move to from Dick’s apartment - and she wants none of them.
Kyle shakes his head ruefully. “Naw. All animals have been discharged back to their home. But here —" Kyle sat her down and constructed a warm bundle of fluffy puppy. He’d done this for another woman once, once upon a time. That was a long, long time ago. This time the puppy is much more well-defined, and as Kyle poured his will into it, it becomes almost fully-realized. He holds it up for her to take, if she wanted.
"Hi, Ms. Bette, woof. I’m your buddy, woof woof." Okay it was stupid, making up dog-voices for a full-grown woman who was heart-broken. “Puppies do make things feel a bit better."
Something between a laugh and a sob leaves her lips, and she reaches for the happy little thing, hugging it to her broken heart. Its tail whips against her arm and it licks her face without restraint. “You’re adorable," she cries and smiles simultaneously, then glances up to meet Kyle’s eyes, “And the puppy is too."
Kyle is turned to look at her, slinging one arm around the back of the bench. “You…" Kyle casts back to all the romcoms he’d watched with Alex. "…deserve better? No - I didn’t mean that, I mean, I know you and Dick, you guys are…I know how much you love him. I think everyone knows how much you do." Kyle is silent for a moment, letting the puppy do its puppy-thing.
"Is it a rough time like stormy then calm waters? Or rough time like…sinking?" He’s blunt, but only because sometimes it’s easier to talk about things if they’re bald-faced and out in the open. Given Bette’s love of adrenalin and open nature, Kyle figures she might feel that way too.
"He’s kind of crashed completely. I don’t know exactly what triggered it, but they told me he had some kind of an anxiety attack yesterday afternoon. Guy took him to his doctor, and…apparently he’s been treated for it for a long time. He didn’t want anyone to know…oh!" She looks at him a little alarmed.
"I’m so out of it, I don’t even know what I’m saying…please don’t share that with anyone, that wasn’t my secret to tell…"
"That’s okay…" Kyle considers this, particularly in regards to Guy and Dick, the both of them being…well anyway. Kyle shakes his head. “I’ll let you in on something too - Dick and I kinda had a falling out a couple days ago. I just…we got different opinions on things that just don’t reconcile. So. Hearing this just sort of puts more pieces together for me and…it is sad. For Dick. His situation is unfortunate for him."
Bette wants to bitterly point out that it’s no picnic for her, but she refrains. There was nothing Kyle had said that was inaccurate, and she pushes away that surge of bitterness. She knows what bitterness has done for others, what it’s driven them to becoming. She’s determined to be the holdout for staying happy in that group, because Steph doesn’t deserve to be the only one.
"It is," she agrees quietly, soothing the excitable puppy in her arms. “So to answer your question, it’s been rough-calm-rough on the surface, if you look at the long term, and it’s been a sinking unbeknownst to anyone. His doctor thinks the fear toxin last year interfered with his medication, and made it stop working properly."
Kyle watches her carefully, since he wasn’t sure how she’d gauge what he said. If she was still eager to placate and pacify things when it came to Dick. Instead her response comes after a while, soft as she pets the puppy hard (the puppy loves it and wags its bushy tail). Kyle holds her shoulder.
"It’s awful for you too, Bette. It’s not all about Dick, all of this. He’s depressed and needs support; but you’re dealing with the fallout as well. What I mean is - it’s okay to feel a bit sorry for yourself, cuz, well. If you want to, you should. Even strong people need respite when things get rough." Kyle’s reminded suddenly of Kate, and Steph for that matter; and his surge of sympathy amplifies as he cradles her head with his hand, briefly. “You’re very strong."
Another sob catches in her throat, mostly from hearing that out loud, what she is refusing herself - permission to make this about her as well. Her eyes fill up and Kyle’s image blurs, and she feels the wetness on her cheek as her resolve crumbles.
"I don’t feel very strong right now," she admits through more sobs. “I’m sorry…" She doesn’t know why she’s apologizing. For crying? For making a liar out of him? For admitting weakness regardless of whether or not she is actually weak? Yes…that must be it… “Bats don’t cry.”
"Everybody cries. Even me. And it’s Lantern policy to get one’s tear ducts removed when we get our rings, we’re just that studly. Hey…c’mon…" Kyle scooches just a bit closer, enough to squeeze her shoulders and let her lean against him. He gives her a construct hanky and keeps squeezing her, letting his jaw rest against her blonde crown as he looks at the pond, the koi swirling in round patterns. The puppy stays quiet and nestled in her lap, licking at her arm and leaving green trails.
"You’re strong. This’s what makes you strong, nena."
Bette doesn’t hesitate to lean on him, desperate for the human contact. The handkerchief is a blessing too, and so considerate of him. His gentle jokes elicit choked, singular laughs from her that break up the tears that feel like they will never stop, and she thanks him between sniffles into the handkerchief. If she had a brother, she’d want him to be like Kyle.
"Thank you, Kyle," she says much more clearly, when he calls her strong.
"De nada, it’s true," Kyle says. “I saw Bruce cry once too. A single, perfect crystalline tear. It slid down his cheek, made a slight grating sound, if I remember correctly. Also there was a breeze billowing his cape out. And cherry blossoms in the wind. And he was on a cliffside, in the sunset. What I’m saying is - when Bats do cry, it’s pretty damn epic."
Bette laughs at the ridiculous mental image, of her cousin’s tear making a grating sound, and all the rest of it. She laughs too long, too unevenly, too many stops and starts, and it isn’t for a some time before she realizes that she’s no longer laughing - somewhere almost seamlessly, it had changed to crying. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, the variant temperature and texture of the construct non-fabric something she would never get used to, but she didn’t, couldn’t notice it.
"It h-hurtsss…it hurts so much…" she manages between sobs. “G-d, why? Why are you doing this?"
Kyle turns a bit more, hugging her so she can rest more comfortably against him. The puppy flops to the ground, curling around her feet. Kyle rubs her back, holding the nape of her neck and pushing the hair away from it so she remains cool. For some reason, Jenny always liked having her neck stay cool whenever she started to really, completely cry. He shushes at her, but not really to silence her, since madre de dios, she’s got every right to just cry as much as she wants.
"I know…it hurts when it feels like there’s nothing you can do or say to someone who…who doesn’t wanna be with you. I’m sorry, Bette…"
Bette can only squeeze him back a little harder in acknowledgement of his words. His shushing really is calming, almost like her mother’s comforting when she was a girl. It takes time, but she does finally run out of tears for the time being. Her head is throbbing, and she feels emotionally exhausted. The lack of sleep probably doesn’t help either, but she knows she won’t be able to sleep right now. “I’ll be okay, I guess. I’m not the first person to feel this way, right?" Her voice sounds almost as numb as she feels, except for her headache.
"Doesn’t make it any less sucky. Still..the good thing being there’s a whole lotta songs and movies you can watch that you can probably hella relate to right now, heh. I…" Kyle pulls back, looking at her curiously as he thumbs away a stray tear on her cheek. “You’ve never…this’s kinda all new for you, isn’t it? Geez, no wonder." No wonder she’d held back her feelings for Dick all this time. Only to have to all come crashing on her in the end anyway, despite all of the ways she’d tried to overcome. For someone who falls in love very easily, it is a little heartbreaking to see the eggs she’d placed in her one basket, all of them cracking. Also not an analogy he’d share with her, because it was stupid, but. It made sense in his head. “Geez."
"Yeah…I’m not exactly proud of being a decade behind every other girl my age when if comes to matters of love," Bette looks down. “I’m not…I mean, I wasn’t a total innocent before Dick. I’d dated before, but usually breakups were my idea, or something we realized together. But I was never in love with those boys. Usually…they wanted things more physical than I did, that’s all. I wanted sex to mean something. I guess that’s a terribly old-fashioned idea…"
Kyle shrugs, because he doesn’t really think it is, or that she’s behind anyone. But he’s not a woman, it’s not his place to dispute societal pressures that he can’t possibly understand. Instead he nods and rubs her shoulders. “Ahhh sorry. I just meant it must be an extra helping of difficult for you, trying to work through this. Like, not fun to experience at any age, but especially when it’s the first time. What’re you…what’s gonna happen now?"
Bette gives him a grateful smile for him not judging her, certainly not like she judges herself. She draws in a shaky breath, but it’s also an emotionally cleansing one. Crying was now done for the time being, thank goodness. “Now…I guess I move out. He’s going away, he said. I don’t think I should still be there when he gets back."
"Oh mierda…I remember he told me you guys just moved in…together oh dios." Every time Kyle has a new realization about this, it just looks more and more rough for the world of Bette and Dick, and Bette separately as well. Rough is an understatement. It’s more like being dragged across a grater and then wearing a hair-shirt and then drowning in a burst dam. He quickly keeps going.
"I…ah well. Did you want…some…California? You can come stay with me for a bit. Yeah! Hal’s away right now, Lantern business in another sector. So apartment’s open if you wanted to, like, opt for miles away." Kyle himself had chosen light years away, when his relationships had ended. “We got a spare room and everything. And sun! And beach."
Bette gives him another grateful smile. There’s really so many places she could go. Her aunt and uncle’s place, the Manor, the Treehouse, Gotham U., Tim’s apartment while he’s in Europe, even here on the Watchtower. That didn’t include any of several unused safehouses, or properties Bruce would offer her at the drop of a hat if she asked. She could even go home, to her parents’ place in L.A., if she had to.
"You’re such a good friend, Kyle. And I won’t forget that I’m welcome there, thank you. I think…" She squeezed his arms, “Maybe I should be alone for a while. We’re down one Bird in Gotham/Bludhaven until Dick can pull it together, anyway, so I should stay there for now, I think. That’s where I’m needed most."
Kyle grins and nods in understanding, only slightly rolling his eyes. “Ohhhhh right right right. Duty comes first. No, I get it. Time alone and all that. And…yeah. Well, at least you, ah, got your options open when it comes to…" Kyle almost says moving on, but that sounds just a leeettle too final for this moment right now. Everything is definitely still too raw; he doesn’t need to be a genius to know that. "…figuring shit out. That’s good, good for you."
Bette nods a little, glad he isn’t disagreeing. It felt right, to stay. Moving out is as close as she wants to get right now to physically running away from her problems. And the urge to run away is very real - but she doesn’t need to leave town to do that. There are many ways to run away.
"Thanks. Diana made a really good point to me a few weeks ago, that solitude can be very empowering. I think I want to see if I can figure out what she was talking about. Feel what I need to feel, and no roommates to either burden or apologize to, y’know?"
"Gotcha," Kyle isn’t new to wanting to be completely alone. Sometimes it just felt good. Really, really good. “Diana is like, super-smart." A small niggling part of his mind wonders if she is still just ‘keeping options open’ with regards to Dick possibly returning to her. A ‘just in case’ kinda thing. He doesn’t blame her, since he has done that, himself. And hope is a big part of Bette’s psyche, Blue Lantern and all. Still he adds anyway with a grin, “Door’s always open, anyway."
Bette leans in and hugs him. “I’m so glad it is. Especially when it feels like one’s closing behind me…" She holds that hug for several beats and then wonders if Kyle might take that the wrong way. “I-I mean…relationship door closing, friend doors staying open, you know? Of course you know. Because, that’s what you meant." She tucks her hair behind one ear as she glances at the koi pond.
"What’s the trope for this, let’s see if I have this right," she half-jokes, nestled against him on the bench and ticking off her to-do list items on her fingers, “Cried on a friend’s shoulder…check. Find a place, pack my things, throw my beret high into the air as I realize I’m free to do whatever I want and go where I like, watch sad movies, listen to songs about heartbreak, eat tons of ice cream, buy new clothes, cut up pictures…no, I won’t do that…take up a new hobby…maybe skydiving stunts? Oh, or pearl diving…"
Kyle laughs and hugs her back, cradling her head again. He realized why - she had a small head, that fit well into the natural curve of his palm. She was smaller-boned than Steph, who was built sturdy. It was neat, since upon first glance they probably both could be lumped in together, like ‘two blonde women’. But there were differences, finer details that Kyle always appreciated discovering for his own aesthetic pleasures.
"My vote is skydiving stunts. Or deep sea diving environmental research? Once I took a walk on the bottom of the sea, just to see if I could. It’s funny - I can travel to the darkest edge of the universe and be cool about it, but walking the bottom of the Marianas Trench? Was like wicked-unnerving, oh man."
"Maybe we can both go together sometime?" she suggests into his chest before he releases her and she looks up at him. Her smile still isn’t its usual sparkling magic, or even her very similar-but-less-genuine pageant version, nor should anyone expect it to be. Her heart cannot summon the former and she knows there’s no point in the latter - Kyle knows she’s grieving and the only one she would be fooling is herself.
“You provide the light and air and protection from the crushing pressure, and I’ll hold your hand and tell you it’s not so scary because I’ll protect you," she teases. “But seriously? I would love to take a trip like that sometime, if you’re willing?"
His mouth slides to one side as he smirks at her, and her teasing. Kyle sits back, letting the puppy leap up onto her lap again, giving her one more enthusiastic snuffle and lick before it dissolves away.
"Yeah that would be neat, sure thing. We can…" Kyle’s eyes widen as he suddenly warms up to the idea and he sits up more. “We can see all those night creatures! The electric ones that’re attracted to light! The invertabrants! And we can search for the giant squid!! The giant squid, Bette. I heard that thing is giant. I’ll bet you could fit in one of its veins, easy."
Bette nods encouragingly. Adrenaline had been her drug of choice all these years in lieu of being loved by the boy, then later the man, for whom she’d always had feelings for. The more dangerous, the more thrilling, the better the rush. “Let’s find the giant squid, then," she agrees.
"You know, that’s probably not what they mean when they say ‘there’s plenty more fish in the sea’, Kyle, but I’m totally game for this." The excitement she wants to fully feel doesn’t quite reflect in her expression, but she knows it’s not the same as Dick’s numbness. Emotional exhaustion is why she’s numb, and sleep and distraction and sad songs and solitary empowerment are what will fix it. Maybe some ice cream. And clubbing, why not? There is also Kyle’s very first suggestion: hitting something. She would be certainly doing that tonight with any criminal element that was unlucky enough to encounter Flamebird tonight.
"Good. Maybe…" Kyle looks at her. “Maybe call Diana or your cousin, when you can," Kyle suggests as well, just because. He doesn’t know Kate Kane well, but he’s sure they’re a family who cares about each other. “Or Steph. You get what I’m trying to say, heh. I probably wasn’t the first choice to open up to, particularly cuz I’m a dude and hey - no lie: guys can be really really dumbasses, sometimes. I’m a dude, so I know."
"Truthfully? No one was my first choice to open up to. But, you were in the right place, at the right time…and I, Mr. Rayner, do not believe in coincidences." She gives him a wink and a quick glance skyward to make sure he understands her meaning, then rises to her feet, not letting go of his hands as she does, and giving them a final squeeze.
"I might call them. Maybe not right away. I have a lot of thinking to do, sleep to get, and crooks to beat up first." She releases his hands, “Thank you, for everything, Kyle. Your friends are very blessed to have you, you know."
"I’m lucky to have good friends," Kyle wriggles her hand in his own, to include her in that. He stands up, grinning. “Well, thank your God for me too, because as much as this is really tough for you, I’m glad you don’t believe in coincidences either. I would’ve offered my services as punching bag, too, Lanterns make great punching bags, ahaha. Ask any of my…" Kyle takes a breath.
"Ahhh. But anyway - beating up crooks is a good idea too, hope you find a particularly dense gang of criminals to go ballistic on, chica. You can gimme a call, whenever you want. I’ll be around. Okay?"
"Okay," she nods, rises on her toes, and gives him a sisterly peck on the cheek. “Shalom, Kyle."
She leaves him at the koi pond, pulling out her phone, and texts Bruce as she exits the arboretum:
Bruce, I need a big case tonight, prefer target-rich in faces that need rearranging, no questions asked. Got anything?
He answers in just moments:
I’ll find you something.
That’s good enough for her. She heads to the zeta tubes, and enters the code for the zeta pad closest to their - no, Dick’s - apartment.
Bette emerges from the bedroom, after having grabbed a long nap all afternoon. Dick wasn’t home when she got back from the Watchtower, not that she checked the spare bedroom where he had chosen to spend last night. She checks her comm to see if Bruce has an assignment for her yet, and hears movement in the kitchen. She clings to the numb feeling she’d had before talking to Kyle that morning, hoping it will get her through this awkward encounter. Then with a mask of nonchalance, she comes into the kitchen, opens the fridge, and grabs herself a V8.
"Sleep well?" she asks the man sitting at the small kitchen table, stirring his cereal into his milk dully.
Dick looks up at her when she comes in, his breath catching slightly, and nods. “Yeah, fine. I slept fine." In truth, he doesn’t remember sleeping much. He’d spent most of the night thinking about where to go, what to do, what he could do at this point. It didn’t feel like he had a lot of options. At some point he had passed out from sheer exhaustion, only waking up twice from noises outside. Whatever sleep he got, it wasn’t restful. He stirs his cereal some more and looks back down to his bowl. “How about you?"
"I slept well," she replies, leaning against the counter and drinking her juice, not joining him at the table. That much was true; she slept quite soundly, for the four hours she had slept. “Thanks."
He nods and eats in silence, not sure of what to say or if he should even try saying anything. He might make this worse. “I talked to the Captain today. She…said she wanted me to get well. They’re putting me on a two-week unpaid suspension, but she knows I don’t have to worry about that, so….." He lets the sentence trail off and goes back to his cereal.
Bette lowers her can of juice, “Well, that’s good news, Dick. So, you won’t have to retest for work, and by the time you’re back, the new medicine will hopefully be working for you. I’m happy for you…"
"Thanks… Thanks." He finishes his cereal awkwardly, suddenly aware of every eating habit he has. He wants to ask her how she’s doing, if she’ll be OK, to apologize again, to do…something that might make this all less horrible, but nothing comes to him. Instead, he pushes at his empty bowl and just stares.
Normally, his leg would be bouncing with this level of unreleased tension building inside him, but he’s strangely still. It’s the first stage of the new medication, he realizes, this unnatural stillness. It will pass. “I think I’m gonna go to Japan. There was a sensei who taught Bruce and then me… I think he might be able to help now."
“That’s good. I mean, that you know someone who can help. I…I wish you didn’t have to go to the other side of the world to get that help, but at least…you can get it at all." Damn it, did that sound supportive enough? What was she even DOING here if she couldn’t be at least supportive? “What are you going to tell Bruce?"
Dick takes a hard deep breath and sighs. “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to tell him this time. I just have to figure out how. That’s gonna be the hard part."
"It should be sooner rather than later. You know nothing stays secret for long in the League…" She feels a stab of guilt, knowing she had told Kyle too much already that morning.
He nods. “Yeah. I know. It’s just the thought of how that conversation will go, y’know?"
Bette tries to keep any pointedness out of her tone when she answers, “Avoiding telling him the truth will only make it hurt more later when he finds out the hard way."
He nods automatically, then suddenly looks at Bette, eyes wide even as his brow furrows in stress. “I didn’t know. I thought I was fine. I thought things were OK. I really didn’t know.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but his comm beeps from the coffee table where he’d left it. He glances at the door to the living room, debating whether he should get it or not.
The comm gets Bette’s attention as well, and she turns her head in its direction, then back at Dick. “Your comm is going off." When she sees he’s not moving, she adds, “Aren’t you going to check it?"
He jumps a little and nods, avoiding her eyes as he hurries out to get it. His breath catches in his throat when he sees who it’s from: Bruce. “[ENCRYPTED TEXT] We need to talk.”
Dick freezes for a moment, but manages to type a quick reply: “[TEXT] When?” He squeezes the comm rapidly, the lack of immediate reply making him anxious again. He walks jerkily back into the kitchen, his natural grace stifled by his tension.
Bette looks at her own comm, realizing the League hasn’t sent out anything to everyone, but Dick seems shaken. “Dick? What was it?"
“…from Bruce. It was from Bruce.” Dick sets the comm down on the table a bit harder than he expected and grabs his bowl, bringing it over to the sink to wash it.
Bette chews her lip. “What did he want?"
“He wants to talk.”
"Oh. Well…at least that takes care of one problem."
He shakes his head, “He hasn’t replied."
"When are you due at the airport?"
“Tomorrow. Well, late tonight, but… Technically tomorrow.”
That soon… "You should tell him. I’ll…give you two room. I need to patrol soon anyway."
Dick reaches out for her arm, not realizing until he’s touching her that his hand is still wet. “Will you be OK…?"
Bette stops in her tracks, and is surprised. Dick is seeing beyond himself, his own world. “I…will be. This is new for me, this kind of breaking up with someone. But I guess everyone goes through it, don’t they? I’ll be okay."
He nods and dries his hands quickly. “Bette…." He pulls her into a tight hug, hoping it will say what he can’t, and hoping it won’t make things more confusing.
Bette holds onto him, unwilling to let him go. She believes when she does, it will likely be the last that they have like this, loving each other, what there is left of that, from him. That love he can’t feel anymore for her, but still feels for Guy. “I love you, Dick. Be good, get better, and come back to your family, soon. They need you."
Dick nods and presses a tiny kiss in her hair. “I will. I love you, Bette. Thank you."
Bette doesn’t want to let go. He loves her, he says, but…they aren’t good together right now. She needs to let him go. Let go, Bette. Let him go. Slowly, she releases him, and nods. There is nothing more to be said.
"I need to get my uniform…I’ll come back for the rest tomorrow," she murmurs, and ducks into the bedroom to change. She returns, takes his hand, and squeezes it. “G-d go with you, Dick…"
He squeezes her hand once more and nods. “Thank you…. Please take care."
"You too…" She leans in, and gives him a final, tender kiss on his cheek, near his ear. And then, she turns, and is gone out the door. She doesn’t look back.
Dick watches the door for a long time. Finally, he turns away, looking around the apartment. It feels so empty suddenly. He fetches his comm and carries it with him as he goes to his bedroom. He has to pack and think. That’s all he’ll be doing once he arrives—thinking—but maybe a head start would help.
Something has to.