Despise ⇢ Dick Grayson

nine.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I made a mistake in the last chapter. I wrote that Dick was driving to San Fran instead of Chicago (OOPS, sorry!). Anyway, it has now been corrected and Dick went to Chicago, as intended, and Will went to St. Louis, as intended. Again, sorry about that. I should have rewatched the episode more closely.

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MY NECK ACHES. I move my head side to side, massaging my left shoulder with my knuckles. Sitting on a train and then a bus for two hours isn't my idea of fun.

It's dark - close to midnight - and I need to find a place to stay. In the distance, I can see the Gateway Arch, looming over the city like a watchful protector. I like St. Louis; I was placed here once when I was younger and the family I lived with wasn't so bad. I wonder briefly what would happen if I showed up at their place. I only lived with them for about five months, but they liked me back then. Called me cute as a button.

Would they turn me away? Would they welcome me back in? Would they even recognise me? Probably not. In fact, there's not a single person alive in this country that would recognise me and welcome me into their house. No one. That didn't seem to matter so much when I had Rachel by my side, but now...

I rub my eyes roughly, trying to clear away any tears that might try to struggle their way to freedom.

At the seediest - and cheapest - motel I can find, I book a room for two nights, using almost all the money I have on me. The sheets are dirty and there's no hot water, but it seems safe enough. For now.

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TWO WEEKS LATER

"It's all set up, you'll just have to wait for it to reboot," I explain, jamming my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

"Thanks. You're like a whiz with this stuff," Brandon waves his hand at the four computers set up against the backdrop of his parents' garage. "Where'd you learn to do all that coding?"

"Uh, that wasn't really coding and I had a foster brother when I was younger who could hack into pretty much anything," I shrug. "He taught me some stuff."

"You were a foster kid?" He asks like I'm a rare animal in a zoo or something.

I hesitantly nod, backing toward the open door of the garage. "Look, I gotta go. That's $300."

"Right, yeah, sure." He digs around in his pocket, pulls out $400 and hands it over like it's nothing. Judging on the size of this house - his parents' house - four hundred bucks probably is nothing to him.

"...Thanks." I turn to leave, hoping to make a quick escape before he realises he just overpaid me, when he grabs my arm.

"Listen, I don't know what's going on with you but my friend Zach - the one who recommended you to me - he said you're in a pretty tough spot. If you ever need a place to crash, you're more than welcome here. My parents are touring Europe, so I have the house to myself—"

"That's real nice of you, but I'm good." I pull out of his grip and get the hell out of that house.

Back at my motel room, I count all the money I've managed to make and save over the past couple of weeks fixing up computers and selling them and helping people out with tech problems. This room costs next to nothing and I've been living on two-minute noodles, so I've managed to save nearly $800.

Enough for a nicer motel room; that's for sure. I go to the convenience store down the street and I buy a cupcake and a single candle. Back in my room, I stick the candle in the cupcake and light it.