#dickgrayson!robin

This went down the drain the second she took me in, though, because I trusted her. Better than I've ever trusted anyone before. Which was a problem, because if anyone knew Catwoman, they knew she wasn't trustworthy.

I didn't care, she was there for me, she took me in, taught me how to survive, how to put myself first, how to navigate the dark river that was the streets of Gotham without drowning.

I trusted her. Maybe more than I should.

“Bring your lifestyle to me, I'll make it better,” I muttered the lyrics under my breath. “How long will I live? - Eternal life and forever.”

I twisted the wire of the ear buds over and under my fingers while I looked up at the full moon.

My stomach rumbled and twisted in a dull ache. When was my last meal? I don't remember, maybe yesterday, maybe the day before.

It's not that we were short on food; I just learned to live on an empty stomach. It's easy to forget to eat when you grow up without food being a certainty, but rather a luxury.

“I'll make your life better than you can imagine or ever dream of,” I continue singing quietly into the night, my hand clutching my phone.

The one Selina gave me. A last-generation iPhone. I got you a present, kitty! Close your eyes.

I loved the presents, the clothes, the watches, the jewels, the shoes, the makeup, the books.

I wish she would let me go to school. School is for dummies, kitten; no actual life skill is learned in school. Trust me, you would be wasting your time.

And I trusted her. With my life.

“So relax your soul, let me take control. Close your eyes, son. My eyes are closed,” the lyrics flowed on my tongue.

“Murder…” I sing the chorus. “Murder was the case that they gave me.”

Suddenly, a body drops to sit beside me. I don't jump, of course I don't, why would I? I felt his presence since the second verse of the song.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Huh?” I take the bud out of the ear closest to him.

“I said, whatcha got there?” He repeats himself with a grin, the eyes of his domino mask squinting over his smile.

I don't say anything as I nudge my hand that's holding the bud over to him, he acknowledged my gesture and grabbed it to introduce it in his ear.

He listened to my music for a few seconds, bopping his head to the beat, his feet bouncing to the rhythm, one leg up on the ledge while his arm rested atop his knee. He seemed to really be paying attention.

“You listen to Snoop Dogg?” He seemed surprised.

“You don't?” I ask incredulously.

“I can't say I'm too familiar, no.” He chuckled and leaned closer. I could tell he did it subconsciously through the way his hand twitched away from mine a second too late, but ultimately kept it there.

I smile, seeing an opportunity to showcase my amazing music taste to someone other than Selina's cats. “Ooh, imma put you onto some good shit, baby bird.”

–

The walk home was quiet, as quiet as Gotham can be at four in the morning, so your usual background noise– screams, sirens, yelling, glass breaking, cats yowling – nothing out of the ordinary.

The teenage girl working at the pharmacy almost had a stroke when I walked in – full suit on,-- to buy some allergy medicine, her hands in the air. Take everything you want. I left with two boxes of Allegra, some chewing gum, and 30 dollars shorter than I was when I came in.

I never stole from small businesses. They were usually family-owned and would take the loss directly into their pockets if I took something, as small as it may be, sometimes every cent counts to put food on the table.

I remember very well how hard it was to make enough for a full meal. No kid should ever have to go through that, and if I have the option to, I won't ever let that happen to a kid I may cross paths with.

So, of course, I pay for the medicine. The cashier girl’s little sister, Emma, just got started in her ballet lessons; they're expensive, too. The tutu, the tights, the shoes, all of it took a toll on their earnings for this month. But I was happy to see they had lasagna for dinner today.

My keys jingled as I found the right one to unlock the front door with, shouldering through it. Damn it, it always got stuck. Trying not to make so much noise that it alerts the neighbours. They could be pretty angry when someone came in the late hours of the night, opting to yell obscenities. Keep it down, mutherfucker. And that would wake the other neighbours. Shut up, you fucking bitch. They would keep on parroting each other for a good 20 minutes. And nobody wanted that.

Pudding came straight to rub herself around my ankles, purring rather loudly and flopping on the floor in front of me.

“Hey, baby girl, are you hungry?” I smiled and closed the door, making sure to lock the main one and the three deadbolts installed as well.

I drop my keys and plastic bag with my medicine on the counter, then drop to my knees to rub between Pudding’s ears, her head bumping against my hand. “Such a good girl.”

At the sound of my voice, Casper and Billy came to greet me, too. “Oh my goodness, what is this? A council reunion?”

The three cats started circling me like sharks to their prey, meowing and begging for some breakfast. “Guess you're just hungry, huh?”

I stand up and make my way towards their food cabinet, taking out their washed bowls from the drying rack near the sink.

“Where were you?” A voice called from the reclining chair in the corner of the living room.

“I was out getting my medicine.” I didn't stop my mission of feeding the cats. Selina didn't startle me; she moved smoothly like a cat. But then again, so did I.

“You spent six hours getting medicine from the corner pharmacy?” She knew where I liked to shop. Damn it.

“I was out watching the night.” I partially omitted the truth.

“Kitty, don't lie to me. You know I won't be mad, whatever it is.” Her voice was behind me, her manicured fingers kneaded my tense trapeze muscles. Her other hand petted my hair.

“I was out with Robin,” I confessed.

“Oh?” Her face split into a smirk. “Are you involved with Bird Boy, now? Like mother, like daughter, I guess.” She shrugged, her expression was clearly amused.

“First of all. Gross, he's a kid. Second of all, you're not my mother.” I weave through her to set the bowls down for the cats, a chorus of meows following me until I set them on the floor.

“Potato, potahto.” She rolled her eyes. Her hands stilled me by my shoulders to stay facing her. Her right hand came up to caress my cheek and down to scratch under my chin, as if I were a cat. I closed my eyes and leaned into her touch.

“You're so precious, my kitty. Remember to take care of yourself, don't trust anyone.” Her right hand left my jaw to point a scrutinizing finger in my face.

“Yes, I know,” I rolled my eyes and peeled myself away from her touch. “It wasn't as if I asked to meet up; he just showed up on the rooftop I was at. Maybe he's stalking me, I don't know.”

I paused as the words left my mouth. “You don't think he's…”

Before I could finish my sentence, she eased my worries. “Don't worry your pretty little head, kitty. Mama can handle the big bad bat.”

“Are you sure? What if they're using me to get to-”

“Nobody is going to use you for anything, and if they do, it'll be the last thing they'll ever think about doing.” She cut me off again. “I won't let anything bad happen to you ever again, kitty. You hear me?”

I took a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. Just like she taught me. It helps with the panic, kitty. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

–

Music blasted through my earbuds as I walked down the sidewalk. The sun was shining, the air had an almost pleasant smell, and if you tried smiling hard enough, eventually one stranger would give you a half-grin back – though no one could tell for sure if it had been with malicious intent or not. One could say it was the best day Gotham had seen in months.

It was exactly why I had been out, that and I had recently finished the library’s old beat-down copy of Brothers Karamazov, so naturally I wanted to go down there and pick out another piece. It was a good day.

Selina had been out for the night, said the club owner had noticed she was slacking off more than clocking in. I tried arguing that I could get a job at the club to cut her some slack, but she immediately shut me down without so much as a second thought. Are you crazy, Naomi? That club is no place for a child.

I remember thinking that I wasn't a child. I don't remember ever being a child; ever since I came into existence, I had responsibilities, people to care for, and ways I needed to figure out how to put food on our table. I remember watching the kids my age play and have fun through the school fence they had in our neighborhood, passing by on my way to beg for change near the restaurants. I don't remember getting toys, or having play dates, or getting to keep my innocence.

I was never a child.

But those days are over. Life is much better now.

I may not have toys, or stuffed animals, or dolls, or bows.

But I have gold and silver jewelry with all kinds of precious stones. Designer bags with crocodile and snake leather. Designer clothes that make my body look amazing. Shoes that elongate my legs and make me look dangerous. Expensive makeup to highlight your pretty features, kitty. And money, a lot of money.

Life is so much better now that I'm rich.

Today I opted for a simple outfit. A short denim skirt with a belt hugging my hips, a black fitted tank, slightly cropped, showing my belly button piercing, – That Selina paid for me to get when I turned sixteen – my black leather boots, my diesel purse - That was currently holding my lip gloss, phone, house keys, library card, some cash, and of course my throwing knife. – My cool new Balenciaga sunglasses, and of course, my gold jewellery.

Like I said, simple.

The library was empty by the time I got there, it was still nine in the morning, but something tells me Gothamites aren't too keen on reading, and the ones that do have the time and want for it, usually don't attend the rundown, almost falling apart, public library.

“Hey Beth!” I greet the 40-year-old woman at the desk. The librarian wore a grey cardigan full of loose threads, crooked glasses, and a purple blouse that had seen better days. I liked Beth a lot; she had a motherly aura that not many people have, and she smelled of lemon balm.

“Hi, sweet girl,” She greeted me back with a blinding smile that always warms my heart. “Did you finish it already?”

“You know it.” I laugh, trying to build banter.

“Well, you returned it with two days to spare. Missed the fee by a thread.” She teasingly scolded me.

“Phew,” I wiped the nonexistent sweat off my forehead. “I have to always be this careful, then, wouldn't want to have to pay 2 dollars to the public library of Gotham. How scandalous.”

She chuckled and shook her head affectionately. “Go! I know you want to pick out the next one.”

“Thank you, you're the best,” I tapped her table twice before turning around to find my favorite section. The classics.

I started browsing through the moldy old books; the pages were all yellow, and the spines of some were crumbling. These books had been well loved, or well degraded, by many people over the course of many years. I feel lucky to be one of them.

I taught myself how to read. Sometimes when my mother passed out on the couch, I managed to get the remote from her dirty fingers and change the channel to the kids' educational one. I memorized the number and at what time Sesame Street would be on, and I used to shuffle through some old magazines, trying to match the letters on the screen to the ones on the page. Eventually, I learned to write using some napkins and a pencil stump I had found on the road. Well, maybe Elmo taught me how to read.

I browsed through enough books to find the one I had been looking for. War and peace. This copy was on the more kept side of them all, not as worn and not as moldy, perfect. Maybe it's because not many people dare to pick out War and Peace for the short period of two weeks. But come on, people, just extend the period, duh. I wiped my hand over the cover to remove any dust and trotted towards the counter, Beth was still sitting behind, a huge smile on my face.

Her head lifted up, and she eyed the copy in my hand, lifting a curious eyebrow. “War and Peace? How come you have time to read these classics in such a short time? Doesn't school drain you? My son is always complaining about the curriculum these days.”

I try to school my expression to not showcase the shame I felt at that comment. “Oh, it's not that hard, school is rather easy, I think.”

“You're a little genius. Say, my son has seen you coming in and out at times, and he developed this cute little crush, would you mind giving him your number?” She leaned in as if we were two teenagers engaged in gossip.

“Oh.” My eyebrows shot up. Her son was cute. “Sure, here,” I scribbled my number on a piece of paper she had lying around. “Look at you playing matchmaker. Maybe I'll be your future daughter-in-law, huh?” I teased with a coy smile on my face. I wasn't, though. But it doesn't hurt to give people good expectations.

“Bye, sweetie.” She said with a smile.

“Bye bye, Beth!” I said as I walked backwards towards the door, dropping my sunglasses to the bridge of my nose when I reached the outside.

–

Again, I was out on my favorite roof. It was my favorite part of the day, the quiet, the dark night sky, the crisp breeze up high in the air. It could almost be romantic if it were possible to gaze up at the stars.

I came to read my book, I managed to get through eighty pages before getting a mild pain behind my eyes, and decided to set it down for the moment.

I untangled the wired ear buds and plugged them into my phone, unlocking it and opening my music streaming app. Opting to play La Mentira by Luis Miguel.

I close my eyes, tilt my chin up towards the sky, and start humming the melody quietly. I let the air engulf me, and goosebumps rise on my skin.

“Se te olvida, que me quieres a pesar de lo que dices.

Pues llevamos en el alma cicatrices, impossibles de borrar.” I start singing along with the lyrics.

I loved this song, I found it so beautiful and romantic. The melody envelopes your soul like a lover's hug, but the lyrics provide the pain there is in longing for that same lover.

I imagine dancing with my lover up on this roof, how they would hold me like something precious, how they would look at me like I'm the moon that lights up the dark night, how they would caress me like I'm a fragile perfect being only worthy of gentleness and affection.

“Por mi parte, te devuelvo tu promesa de adorarme.

Ni siqueiras sientas pena por dejarme.

Que ese pacto no es con Dios.” I forget to keep my voice down for a moment, and just let it flow through the night breeze, like a siren call.

How would that lover look? How would they show their care? Would they be gentle? Would they be devoted? Do I even deserve that kind of love? How could anyone love damaged goods?

“Y hoy resulta, que no soy de la estatura de tu vida.

Y al dejarme casi, casi, se te olvida.

Que hay un pacto entre los dos.”

I eventually reach the end of the song, sighing and taking off my earbuds. Not really in the mood to ruin the vibe with another song. I turn to grab my book when I notice a shadow looming close.

I drop my belongings to the ground and quickly stand in a fighting stance. “Who’s there?”

The figure steps forward. Baby bird. I drop my guard and place a hand on my hip. “What are you doing here?”

He had a dumbfounded expression on his face, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Eventually, he managed to let out a “Your voice is beautiful.” His own cracking as he spoke, his face slightly cringed at that and he cleared his throat.

“I'm glad you enjoyed the show.” I lift my eyebrow and cross my arms. “Whatcha got there?” I point with my head to his hands are both behind his back.

Seemingly remembering he brought something, he shuffled the paper bags to his front. “I brought some food.”

He heard my stomach rumbling the last time. Damn, I should've eaten. And the fact that I also haven't eaten since then isn't helping.

“What did you bring?” On cue, my stomach rumbled, almost happy at the prospect of being fed.

“Burgers.” He smiled sheepishly. “So, do you accept my humble offering?” He pushed the bag towards me and shook it tantalizingly.

I presented to ponder, a finger mockingly taping my chin and my eyes looking up. “Yeah, I accept.” I grabbed the paper bag out of his hand and sat down, opening it to inspect the contents. He stayed standing in front of me.

“Well, are you coming to eat with me or what?”

That seemed to snap him out of the weird staring spell he was in.

He sat down and I placed an order of fries and a wrapped burger in front of him.

We ate quietly. The silences with him were nice, they didn't seem to have that expectation to fill the void with senseless small talk. His presence was also nice, comforting even.

“Is that your book?” He gestured towards my library copy of War and Peace.

“Yeah, just started today,” I said after swallowing a bite of my cheeseburger.

“How are you liking it?” He peeled off more of the wrapper and took another bite of his.

"It's nice, I haven't read that much yet to have a fully formed opinion.” I took a sip of my drink.

“You go to the library often?” I paused, then looked at him. He recognized the library tag that was placed over the spine.

“What are you, a detective?” I took another bite to keep my mouth occupied and not call him a stalker, he did get me food, it wouldn't be nice to insult him.

He just laughed and shook his head, looking at me with an unreadable expression. Huh.

–

I opened the window quietly through the fire escape exit. We always left the one next to the living room unlocked, it's a danger in Gotham, I know. But hey, sometimes you gotta live life on the edge.

Tonight we planned to rob the autoshop uptown. Selina wanted a new bike and said I could pick out something for me too. Usually we steered clear of stealing automobiles, due to the easy tracing of the vehicles, but Sel knew a cool guy that did modifications in his garage for us. It helped when she let him fuck her too.

I carefully entered the flat and turned to close and lock the window.

“Hey kitty” At the sound of her voice, the lamp light was turned on, I turned around to face her. She was in her usual house clothes.

“Why aren't you suited?” I dropped my feet from the windowsill to the floor one by one. My hand coming up my face to peel my mask away.

“Oh, the robbery can wait.” She stood up and grabbed a mug that was on the coffee table, coming my way and nudging it towards me. “Figured we could take the night off and watch a movie. Like the olden days” She searched my face for any familiar expression of glee, while also chuckling.

“Really? What about the club, don't you have work?” I grabbed the mug from her hand and took a careful sip. Hot chocolate, like she used to make me when I was thirteen.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “They can survive without me.” She turned around and dropped to lounge on the loveseat, looking back at me and patting the empty spot near her.

My face lit up and I let out a little giggle, ushering to huddle close to her. Cradling the mug close to my chest with both hands, I lay my head on her shoulder, her arm was around mine. Her hand came down to pet my hair.

She gave me the remote to pick out the first movie of the night. After scrolling through the streaming platform, I landed on Death Becomes Her, one of our favorites. She had shown it to me on one of my first nights at her apartment.

Midway through the movie, Pudding, Casper and Billy came to join our cuddle puddle. A cacophony of purrs were bouncing off the walls and I'm pretty sure they could be heard all the way across the flat.

The part where Madeline and Helen meet again after 12 years comes up on the screen. Selina turns to me and talks along with the screen.

“Mad!” She exclaimed.

“Hell!!” I responded.

We laughed together and I returned to my position cuddling up against her shoulder.

I closed my eyes and let out a gleeful hum. “I love you, kitty” She kissed the crown of my head. “You are one of the best things that have happened to me.”

And she was mine.

–

I'm on the rooftop, again. It was the fourth night this week, it's Saturday. And somehow I know he's going to be here. There's something off about today, though I can't point out what exactly, it feels like those disassociating nights when nothing feels real but everything feels right about to change forever.

“Hey kitten,” he calls out in a humorous tone. As if he was trying out an inside joke.

“Don't call me that.” I respond rather sharply.

The white slots of his domino mask widened in surprise, he wasn't expecting me to be this harsh. “Ouch, alright. So what's your name then?” He smirked and leaned closer.

I glanced and glared at him from the corner of my eye, “Nice try, baby bird.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot.” He shrugged.

We stayed in silence for a beat, looking out into the streets, my head was filled to the brim with possible worst-case scenarios that could happen at the drop of a hat. He seemed to notice my anxiety.

“What’s got you so worked up?” His body was turned towards me, giving me his full attention.

I shook my head and sighed, “You don't want to know.”

“I wouldn't be asking if I didn't” a charming grin graced his face.

I rolled my eyes in a fond manner and turned to face him. “Touché.”

“So?” He egged me on.

I took a well dragged out while before responding to him, willing the words to leave my clogged up throat and out of my mouth.

“I'm afraid.”

He doesn't say anything, expecting me to keep going, and I try to.

“I'm afraid of losing all I have. Afraid of going back to where I was before.”

He stays silent for a while, and when he speaks, he doesn't question my feelings, doesn't try to console me, or reason with me, or offer my ways to get over them. He just says:

“Was it that bad before?”

I take a deep breath and slowly exhale through my nose, “Very.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, his expression was pensive. Rather assessing what he should say next.

Then, suddenly “I'm an orphan.”

“What?” The confession shocked me somehow, I wasn't expecting him to be so open about his past with me.

“They were murdered by the mob.” He stares right ahead as I examine his side profile.

“I'm sorry.” I don't say ‘Me too’, because as much as I'd want it to be true, it wasn't.

“It's okay,” He ponders for a while, then confesses, “It's funny, you know.”

“What is?”

“Even though I miss them like nothing else. My life turned out so much better than what I could've imagined.” He laughed.

“Congrats?”

“No! God- What I'm saying is-” He runs his hand down his face. “There's no way to go but up, right? If you already lived the shittiest part of life, there's not much else to bring you down.”

“I guess.” I shrug and stare into the night.

He nods in thought, after a little while pondering, he seems to think of something. “Well, if it ever comes down to it, maybe I can help you.”

I laugh incredulously, “Help? How?”

“I have my ways,” He winks at me and that makes me laugh.

“Alright baby bird, deal”

“Deal” His face splits in a charming grin.

Maybe I could have a friend.

–

I felt the shift before I unlocked the door. Call it intuition, call it a sixth sense, call it anxiety, whatever it is, but please don't call it reality.

I twisted the knob and the wind hit my face. She had left the window open, I closed the door, making sure to lock it and the deabolts and make my way to the window to lock it as well.

“Sel?” I peel my mask from my face. “Selina?”

I froze for a second, no cats came to greet me at the door. “Casper? Billy?” nothing.

My eyes were starting to water, my heart beat was getting faster, my hands were feeling colder. “Pudding?” nothing.

“Selina?” My voice cracked, my breathing hitched and hiccuped. “Please.” My desperate pleas turned into sobs.

“No. No no no no”

My knees gave out and hit the floor, both my hands coming up to clutch at my hair, my chest felt both too big and too small for my breaths and my racing heart.

Breathe in, breathe out. That's it, it helps with the panic, kitty.

No. Fuck kitty. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her.

“Why did you leave me?” I was yelling. It hurt so much, like someone had cracked through my ribs with their bare hands and squeezed my heart as hard as they could.

Stop, stop, stop. Please, make the pain stop, please.

I can't think as I sob into my own arms. Curled up in a ball on the floor, shaking, crying, yelling.

After some minutes, I feel a gentle nudge on my head. “Pudding?”

The cat purred as she curled up against my arm. I sniffled and carefully sat up, breathing in for four seconds, holding for four, and exhaling for four.

I didn't help much, but I could at least breathe now.

She climbed my lap and laid down, my hand coming up to softly caress her fur.

I took this moment to assess the state of the apartment, she hadn't taken anything. My eyes catch sight of a carefully folded piece of paper sitting atop the coffee table.

I reach over to take the paper and unfold it. A message scribbled inside

I'm sorry, kitty.