Subject: [OTL]: [Robin] In The Blood [8:11] Date: Wed, 18 Jul 2001 08:18:39 -0700 (PDT) From: D Benway In The Blood [8:11] Saturday, June 2 (I) drawn from the vein by Benway This story borrows some Bat-characters from DC for not-for-profit use. This story is not recommended for sensitive or innocent readers. __________________________________________________________________ I drive back to the school, and only go through two red lights on the way. I make a mental note: wait more than an hour after drinking before taking an oxycodone. My head is clearer now, and I can tell because the headache's coming back. Bruce would beat me senseless if he knew I was driving a car with my head like this. I should go and see Leslie Tomkins, but she won't be in until Monday so I'll wait. This seems to be the most sensible thing to do. I stash the car in the usual place, and hope that Alfred really is away for the weekend. I have to go in through the steam tunnels, since I gave the easier way in away to someone I know I can't trust, even if he's afraid I'll come after him wearing a star-spangled bustier. I have a note, two e-mails, and fifteen phone messages waiting for me when I get back to my room. The note is from Buzz, saying that he's going to be away for the weekend. He leaves a number, in case I need anything. There's an e-mail from Oracle, asking me to call her as soon as I can. There's an e-mail from Steph, telling me not to call Babs but to come over to her place right away. The phone messages are from Ari. The first one asks me to call back when I can. So does the second. She's crying during the third one, and the fourth. It's so long since I've seen her. I call the number she's left. Don't let him know, please don't let him know, is the first thing she says as she answers the phone. Who? I asked. Uncle Vari, she says. Shit. Her uncle Vari used to tell me about how the world ought to be. His stock speech on gays usually began with the statement In some things, Hitler was right and it would get worse from there. I just have to do it, she says. I'm not a queer. I just need to do it. Need to do what? I say. Sing, she says. Dressed like a man? I say. You took me there, she says. Then it hits me. I did take her there. Ives and Hudson decided to go, before they came out, and they invited us along. She said she had a really good time. Why the fuck could she never be honest about what she means? I don't really care, I say. I mean, it doesn't matter to me what you do. My uncle thinks I'm doing a second shift, I say. I'm not going to tell anyone, I say. He'll kill me, she says. He won't, I say. Yes he will, she howls. He'll throw me out of the house. They'll disown me. You don't know that, I say. Yes I do, she says. They love you, I say. They're not my parents, she says. I can't think of anything to say to that. If you don't tell them, I won't tell your father, she says. Shit. That's all I need. My father knows, I say. Not about all of it, she says. All of what? I say. You know, she says. Now I'm starting to sweat. It has to be the oxycodone. She couldn't know. I won't tell, I say. You know I'd do nothing to hurt you. She starts crying again, and it's a long time before I can hang up the phone. I page through the rest of the messages, but the last one isn't from her. Need see you. Cave. Tonight. Alone. It's from Batgirl. I call Steph. She tells me to come over, NOW. I go. My head's cleared enough that I can drive properly but the headache is back and it's killing me. She's waiting for me at the door. She's been out on patrol, and she hasn't showered yet. She's wearing the costume under her dressing gown. Where's your mom? I say. Night shift, she says. Looks like you had one too, I say. Been following someone around, she says. On your own time, I say. Yeah, she says. Bruce won't like that, I say. Bruce doesn't like drunk drivers, she says. She puts a hand on my forehead and frowns. You look like shit, she says. So everyone keeps telling me, I say. You need to drop this, she says. Like, now. Drop what? I say. Your dad's gone back home, and everything's peachy, she says. Everything except you. They keep calling me, asking where you're at and why you don't phone back. I can't believe you followed me, I say. You're falling apart, she says. Didn't think it could happen to you. You know what's going on? I say. Dana told me, she says. No, I say. Bruce told you. How much do you know? That your dad shoots blanks, she says. Bruce didn't tell you all of it, did he? I say. No, she says. He didn't. He didn't tell you who my real father is, did he? I say. No, she says. He didn't. Bruce looked into every aspect of my medical history when he took me on. She's lying to me. Tim? she says. Go home. Come talk to me about it tomorrow. I'll be here all day. Don't get angry when you're in a fight. Bruce always tells me that. Fuck you, dad. What would you do if you found out the Cluemaster wasn't really your father? I say. He is, she says. My mom nailed him with a paternity test right after I was born. That's how they got hitched. At least your dad isn't an asshole. How would you know, I say. He went back home, she says. Back to Wayne Manor? I say. To your house, she says. She's hitting below the belt. She's always been as good with her tongue as she was with her right, but I'm pretty good with my right, too. What about your son? I say. Son? she says. Or your daughter, I say. Whatever. Your kid. You said my son, she says. You don't know a thing about him, I say. You never asked. Asshole, she says. How can you come down all high and mighty on me when you can't even face the consequences of your own actions? I say. I know one thing about my kid, she says. That he left the hospital alive? I say. That my kid still lives, she says. That he's safe. You can't know that, I say. You didn't want to know. You know why I let Old Tall, Dark, and Scary take me on? she says. I'll never know why he took you in, I say. I thought you went for it because he made you all hot and bothered. Oracle, she says. He scares me shitless but she watches over my son. She watches over him, and if he isn't safe, if he isn't looked after, she'll tell me and we'll take care of it. I couldn't bear to know any more, Tim. Steph, I say. I couldn't bear to know more because if I kept thinking about it I'd go nuts and do something really stupid, OK? she says. There are things you shouldn't know because they'll rip you apart. You can only be so strong. Steph, I'm sorry, I say. It can't be undone, she says. I have a son. I have a little boy. She breaks down. I should go to her. I should hold her, let her know how fucking sorry I am, but then she wins. She knows something, and she's not telling me. Tell me what you know, I say. No, she says. I hurt you, I say. Hurt me back. My kid's dad is Karl Ranck, she says. What? I say. Karl, she says. Ranck. He got capped in your school. You went to his funeral. You told the cops where to find his killer's corpse. You fucking liar, I say. You were all over me, every time I saw you. You were at that funeral and you were flirting with his friends. You didn't fucking shed a tear for him. I didn't shed a tear for him because I didn't love him and he could be a real asshole, she says. I was flirting with his friends to get the goods on the guys who shot him. He had a girlfriend, I say. His girlfriend didn't know, she says. Neither did you. Why would you want to fuck Karl Ranck? I say. Because he was hot, she says. Because he knew how to give a girl something she wasn't getting from the boy she really wanted. Who was? I say. You can be so fucking stupid, she says. And so can I. It was the best fuck I've ever had, and I just keep on paying for it. But if it was his kid, why didn't you tell anyone? I say. The Rancks are rich. You could have kept the baby. Duh! she says. Look around, Boy Wonder. See this house? Two bedrooms, one bathroom. You ever been in another place like this when you weren't kicking the shit out of the people who lived there? You think the Rancks would take in poor old Stephanie Brown and her ex-addict Mom? They'd have their lawyers prove I was an unfit mother just by making me 'garbage' and 'welfare' and 'the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain' to the judge. We got the food stamp cheese in the fridge, but we buy real expensive stuff like Cheez Whiz to give to you when you come over. Get it? Oh Steph, I say. Go, she says. Go home. Go to bed. Sleep it off. Come back tomorrow after you talk to your Dad. So you want me to go to Wayne Manor right now, I say. Don't, she says. Just don't. Why not, I say. I need to know. Drop it, she says. Please. Didn't I hurt you enough? I HAVE TO FUCKING KNOW, I say. No. I don't say it, I scream it. I can hear the glass in the light fixture resonating in time with the pulsebeat in my head. Please, she whispers. I can't look away from her eyes. They're so blue. It's always fucking like this. My father said we shouldn't get close, not without the masks on. She's sitting on the loveseat, with her head in her hands. I kneel down beside her, and pry her hands aside. She's not crying, but she's really upset. I'm not. I've got the advantage back and she knows something she's not telling me. She draws me in. We kiss. She still tastes sour. It doesn't matter. This time, it will work. This time, nothing will go wrong. This time we'll break through and go all the way. We'll go all the way and she'll tell me what I want to know. She pulls me down on top of her. I slide my hand around under her waist. The loveseat is too short even for us. My back is arched in a really uncomfortable way. Our heads come together too fast, and I knock her bridge loose with my teeth. She lost her two front teeth when her father hit her across the face with a 2-by-4. He's in a wheelchair now. What the fuck am I doing? Thorry, she says, tossing the bridge into the fruit bowl on the coffee table. She starts kissing me again. I never know what to do with my tongue in her mouth. It isn't like Ari's. Shit. But she knows something. I start stroking her. My pants are starting to castrate me. She moans, but it sounds like pain. Bruthe, she says. What? I say. I haff a bruthe, she says. She slips the costume down, over those perfect breasts. One side of her back is black and mottled green. Bruise, I say. Yeah, she says. Been hard at work when I wathn't chathing you. We kiss again, and I feel it coming. It's going to work. She peels my shirt off, breaking off the kiss only for a moment. I run my hand across her breasts. They are so soft. My hand goes further. I have to open then before my hard-on kills me. Yeth, she says. Oh yeth. She sets her hand to work down below. Tho hard, she says. It's gone. The magic. It's gone. All I can think of is that she said this to Karl fucking Ranck. I don't stop. Instead, I push her costume down further. Wait, she says. She reaches behind the loveseat somewhere and fishes out a condom. The thought that she has a bowlful there, waiting for anyone who comes along, makes me even angrier. Still, she started this. We get it on, then we get it on. I'm in her, now, I'm shoving it in her, I'm shoving it in, shoving it, shoving it, she's going to tell me everything. She pushes me off, and buries her head in her hands again. Thtop, she says. Thtop. What? I say. Hurth, she says. Your back, I say. Down there, she says. Just like all the other times. Just like all the fucking other fucking times. What did the doctor say? I ask. She dothn't know, she says. Not an infecthun. She takes the bridge from the fruit bowl and fits it back into her mouth. So it's in your head, I say. She looks at me, and I have to look away. Why did we even try, I say. Please, she says. Drop it. Go home to your dad and Dana and Dylan. I take her by the shoulders, pushing her into the cushions. Drop it? I say. Is that what this is all about? You thought I was going to drop this if you let me fuck you? Is that it? You think I'm going to tell you anything if I let you fuck me? she says. I can't look at her. My head feels like shit. I hear her slipping back into her costume. Bruce said we shouldn't, she says. Why didn't I listen? He said that to me too, I say. Why did he say we shouldn't? Said it would never work out, she says. Yeah, I say. You know what the sickest part of all this is? she says. No, I say. I still dream about you, she says. I still love you. Even with all this shit, you're the only one I've ever loved. I love you, too, I say. I'm lying. It's not true. Once, I'd have thrown myself in front of a bullet meant for her. Now, now she's just someone in my way, who's in love with her dream of me, but I'm not in love with my dream of her. Once again, I win the race, I get somewhere before she does. Lucky me. Pretty fucking pathetic, huh? she says. All I want to know is the truth, I say. No you don't, she says. I have to know the truth, I say. Do you think it hurt when I did it with Kurt? she says. Did it? I say. I could tell you, she says. Would you believe me? I can't answer her. Go home, she says. Talk to your dad. Get some sleep. Sure, I say. Really? she says. Trust me, I say. I drive back to the school. I don't stop by at home. After all, it's 4:30 in the morning. I make my second trip through the steam tunnels. In my room, I crash on the bed, my head pounding. Steph doesn't want me to confirm what I know already, because she'll lose everything she's got with Bruce. After all, she's not his daughter. That makes sense. The part that still doesn't make sense is why Bruce hasn't told me. He has to know who I am, who we are, but he's never mentioned Dylan or any of the others, not once. I can't see him being embarrassed, I can't see him being ashamed, but most of all I can't understand why he would do it in the first place. Vanity? Doesn't fit. Genetically determined need to reproduce? As if he couldn't overcome that by sheer will-power. I have no idea what he does to get off, but the thought of him jerking off into a test tube has me over the side of the bed and rolling on the floor, laughing, as silently as I can. It hurts to hold it back, so they don't hear me outside. When it's over, I take off the t-shirt and the pants and stash them behind my desk. A shower is just too much effort, so I put on my pjs and take another oxycodone and flop back into bed. Bruce and a test tube. Shit. [next: Saturday, June 2 (II)]