Despise ⇢ Dick Grayson

three.

A SINK HOLE OPENS in the Earth like the eye of a giant lizard. It blinks at me and then it tries to swallow Rachel. I grab her hand as she dangles over the endless abyss. A hole to hell, perhaps.

Fear widens her eyes, a silent scream forever echoing out of her mouth. Our hands wrap together; I'm holding her up. But slowly the ground beneath me begins to sink as well. If I don't let her go, I'm going to fall in with her.

I hold tight.

Awakening to the smell of gasoline isn't exactly pleasant. We're stopped at a gas station, in the middle of God-knows-where. I faintly remember Grayson putting me in the back seat of a different car - a Porsche, I now realise - and pretty much nothing else. It's all blurry.

I sit up, rolling my head and cringing at how sore every part of me is. The door opens and Rachel bends down to look at me.

"You're finally awake," she smiles.

"Barely. How long was I out?"

"A few hours. Are you feeling ok?" She puts her hand on mine and I flinch back, recalling the horror of my dream. Sorrow overcomes her face and she recoils her hand. "I'm sorry. You saw what I did...You must think..."

I quickly reach out and take her hands in mine, squeezing tightly. "Hey, no. That's not it at all. I'm not scared of you, Rach."

A shaky breath of relief leaves her chest and she hangs her head, purple hair falling in front of her eyes.

"I'm just still pretty out of it, that's all," I explain.

The door to the gas station opens and Grayson walks out, his eyes zeroing in on me when he sees me sitting up, awake.

"I'm going to run to the toilet. Do you need anything?" She asks.

"I'm good."

As Rachel passes Grayson, he gives her a small, reassuring smile. When his eyes move back to me, he is considerably less warm. I stand up as he approaches. My legs ache like all hell and I have to steady myself on the car to keep upright.

"How are you feeling?" He questions, almost clinically, like he's going through a checklist.

"I'm fine."

"Dizzy, nauseas? You probably have a concussion."

"I said I'm fine."

A terse nod. "Good." A weighted pause. "Don't ever pull a stunt like that again. Next time, I won't be coming to your rescue."

"Rescue?" My eyebrows go up. "I didn't need rescuing, not from you."

"Really? That wasn't what it looked like when the cop had a gun aimed at your head. You hesitated and it nearly got you killed." He steps closer and I can see that he's pissed, really and truly. It's more intimidating than I let on. "You think running off like that was you helping Rachel, but it wasn't. It was just stupid and it could've gotten both of you killed."

I hate that he's right and I'm not willing to accept it. "We don't need you. You can drop us off at the nearest train station and we'll be fine from there."

There is condescension written all over his face as he shakes his head, as though I'm an idiot completely oblivious to the world. "Do you have any idea who exactly is after her? Do you even know what she is?"

"What she is?" My anger and indignation grows and I step closer to him, glaring up heatedly into his eyes. "She isn't a thing. She's my best friend and there is nothing I won't do to protect her. You're some random cop with a saviour complex. So remind me again why we need you?"