* 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖊 𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖊

had he not been deprived of sleep over the last couple of days, dick might have been awake to see the outline of helena perched just outside his window, but instead he’d fallen asleep surrounded by piles of papers scattered all around him. the insistent knock to his window caused him to stir, his eyes falling open as the knocks continued. still somewhat disoriented, he lumbered out of his bed, palms digging into his eyes as consciousness and awareness filtered in slowly. to his knowledge, he hadn’t recalled roy or donna being home tonight, their absence another factor in his dozing off. “helena?” he mumbled as he clutched the window and pried it open. only when she climbed in did he take in the obvious state of distress she was in, even when his only source of light was the sliver of the moonlight filtering through the open window. the blood that stained her costume was the first thing he noticed, confusion evident in his features before it was masked by the realization that it didn’t belong to her. he dwelled on this thought, brows puckering as he swallowed. even though she had yet to offer an explanation, he seemed to know, seemed to understand. and yet dick didn’t say a word regarding it, didn’t address the glaringly obvious. 

“here,” he directed softly, hand pressing against her shoulder as he guided her to sit on the bed. wordlessly, he slipped out of the room, only to return minutes later with a towel to clean off whatever stains remained on her skin and a glass of water. he lingered beside her, watching and waiting for her to speak, but saying nothing to indicate that he expected her to explain. whether she chose to confide in him was entirely up to her, and whatever she’d have to say, he would be here to listen. “are you hurt?” he asked, deciding that he’d be the first to fill the silence. 

helena’s entire body feels numb. she can barely stand straight the few steps dick is guiding her to the edge of his bed. she wants to speak, to apologize for bringing this mess into his room but her body refuses. instead the darkness is filled with labored breathing - unsure if it’s from how fast she ran here or if she had been spiraling into a full on panic attack. when the towel is place in her hands, helena’s immediately wiping off any blood she can, the sight of it alone tying her stomach in up in knots. she’s aware dick isn’t going to prod at her for answers, but helena knows that if she doesn’t tell someone what she did, she was going to implode. 

the wiping away of the blood becomes more hectic now, her breathing caught in her throat, as if washing the blood off of her hands would erase her memories of tonight. “dick, i--” the movements of her hands stop, instead dropping the towel so she can pull her gloves off and toss them aside, her head resting in her hands. “i-i’m not, but i-- i killed santo cassamento tonight.” there’s no relief that comes with her confession, just more realization of the finality of her actions. “i’ve been tracking him down for weeks and i - i found where he was hiding and i - i put an arrow in his chest.” the tears that had never fallen during her crusade to avenge the bertinelli lineage had now surfaced, and helena felt as though she was slipping. from what - she doesn’t know, but this all felt lackluster to the revenge she’d been plotting since she was eight years old. 

“my father is dead, dick. my real father. and i killed him.” 

✕ — isn’t that helena bertinelli wandering the streets of new york? civilians know them as huntress and see them as a vigilante. as far as i know, the twenty-seven year old stands with the birds of prey and are rumoured to be pretty vengeful & stubborn. ( laura harrier / cis female / she/her ) 

babs was nice enough to loan helena some equipment that allowed her to hack into any and all security cameras in which these men came into view. and night after night of watching... waiting... she was able to plan her next course of action. they’d been meeting on the same block, just around the same time. she watched from her perch as yet another deal goes down right before her. but just as they turn to retreat back to their vehicle, the huntress buries an arrow in their chests. 

it’s not enough to kill them on sight, but they won’t have much time left. well, not unless they give her the information she’s looking for. 

and they do. they lead her right to him. and for the first and last time, the huntress shows them mercy. 

cassamento’s lair is characteristically run in a sacristy. the mob bosses desk was surrounded by books of worship and helena was sick at the very sight. the man sat before her had been the reason helena could never rest easy. she was constantly reminded of the night he took her family away from her, causing her to be alone in this world. his goal was to wipe the bertinelli lineage from existence, but he missed one. and tonight would be the night he paid for his actions — in blood, the same way her family did.

she wants him to see her before he dies. helena wants santo cassamento to know that the child he had out of wedlock, and then murdered the only family of, has come in the night like the grim reaper to make sure his last breath is his final. she wants him to know that he did this - no one but him was to blame for the horrible, sinful act she was about to commit. 

"𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖊 𝖕𝖎𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖊, 𝖈𝖍𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖔, 𝖕𝖆𝖕𝖆?”

it’s a complex and volatile mix of emotions, the one that course through her veins once his heart has stopped. helena can feel her adrenaline spiking but she does her best to keep her breathing leveled, closing the space between her and her father’s now dead body, lifting a hefty arm and pulling off a gold watch she’d recognized from her childhood. before leaving the room, she also clutches the gaudy gold cross from around his neck, pulling it off and vanishing from the scene of the crime in one fell swoop. 

she doesn’t remember how she ended up here - her memory between killing santo and appearing at dick’s fire escape had become nothing but a blur to her. gloved hands rap anxiously at his window, the realization of what she’d just done beginning to seep into her consciousness like a quick acting poison. / @ncghtwing 

💏50 ways to kiss someone — 15. passionately

perhaps what made dick and helena work so well is the fact that in most ways, they were polar opposites. her fiery and otherwise cold demeanor was no match against the ray of light that dick grayson shed on her life. with him, helena could feel her walls dissipating, finding herself comfortable enough to take off the mask she wore otherwise. a part of her found this troublesome, though. to have this person in your life that you love and loves you - all of you, no matter your past, or the shopping list of flaws you’ve got under your belt. 

that being said, patrolling together had always been difficult. helena was rather good at keeping her emotions from getting the better of her. it helped that she had somewhat of a one track mind - to kill santo cassamento to avenge her family, and rid the streets of evil like him. but when she and dick had started to tag along on each other’s stakeouts, she found it more and more difficult to keep her eyes on her goal. after all, she had someone to look out for now. because she knew he’d been doing the exact same for her. 

the night begins like any other, but soon they’re on the tails of violent arms dealers attempting to make a deal in the wrong part of down. huntress and nightwing separate once the perps do, but after his comms cut out, despite having subdued one of them, helena can’t help but worry. 

dragging the now unconscious criminal toward the mouth of the alley they’d been stationed in, helena continues to try to reach dick over the coms, only to hear a slight static in return. though the vigilante quietly wills herself not to panic, she can nearly hear her heart in her ears, dark eyes searching frantically for a familiar pair. 

in the darkness that swallows gotham’s streets, she sees a familiar flicker of blue, boots meeting the ground as he move in one graceful swoop. she feels her heart drop into the pit of her stomach, and given how wound up she’d gotten herself, it shows. 

“sorry to hear. if you need an escape from it all, you know my door is open. it always has been.”