Electric Flame

2.7

That night I rested in the main room, the chirping crickets keeping me company. The soft, white couch was comfortable but gave little comfort to my neck. As I lied horizontal on the sofa, I pondered why and how I ended up in this situation. Hours ago, the members of the Team had retreated to their own individual rooms, but I remained seated.

After the incident with Joker, things nearly returned to normal, or whatever normal was around here. The case concerning Red Hood was dropped due to lack of evidence, no shock there, but Black Mask was still under investigation for his alleged complicity in Joker's escape from Arkham, not that it mattered anyway. The guards charged with aiding and abetting the escape were found murdered in the Gotham City courthouse jail-- again, no shock there, everyone in Gotham was dirty and would make sure to tie off any loose ends. 

Then Black Mask had been released on a one million dollar bail for his suspected involvement and was currently waiting a hearing. However, knowing how crime worked in Gotham, he was most likely going to be let go for some surreal reason and return to his line of work as a crime lord, if you could even call that a job.

Now for the interesting part: Joker had been returned to Arkham Asylum. Even though I was definitely there, I still didn't know or understand how Bruce got Jason to quit his quest for revenge considering he'd been planning and executing it for years. Officials claim extra measures had been taken to ensure another escape would be impossible, but somehow, Joker always managed a breakout.

My brain rushed at a hundred miles an hour, yet my eyelids began to drop over my eyes, blocking off all sight. I struggled to remain awake, though my other half was fighting in favor of sleep.

The crickets grew quiet as the soft patter of footsteps amplified and became more persistent. I felt strong arms wrap around me, forcing my body to tense. In any other situation, I would have made an attempt to escape; however, my energy was too drained to make an effort to move. Joker may like to, but I was too tired at the moment.

"Let's get you to bed," the voice spoke so calmly, and the person's body radiated pure heat.

Feeling a cool breeze sweep over my figure, I snuggled deeper into their chest as they held me bridal style. I wrapped my arms around their neck and rested in their secure grip. I felt every bump as they lifted me up the dozens of stairs until they stopped to open what was probably a door. I sensed them place me down onto the comfort of a cushioned mattress before crawling in after me, making the left side of the bed dip on their arrival. Their hot breath against my neck sent me into a state of euphoria, as did their firm arms around my waist. My eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Stop staring. It's extremely creepy," I slurred in a monotone voice, but he still refused to turn away. I rotated my body, still in his grip, to face away from him.

"Why do you fight everyone, (y/n)?" he whispered, a trail of mint running across my cheek. 

I didn't know what to say. I'd never been asked that before, but an answer still came out: something that my mother had told me when I was younger, my real mom, though she didn't deserve that title.

"Because it's kill or be killed, Dick," I mumbled, the words barely escaping. Suddenly, the room was freezing cold. "I spent a lot of time running and learned not to trust anyone." I ended there, my voice dropping to a whisper, knowing not to divulge too much. 

There was something about Richard Grayson that attracted me. Something about him that I'd loved since we were kids, but I couldn't let that expose something I'd been hiding almost my entire life. Yet, maybe it would be nice to let someone else carry that burden for once.

"We're nineteen, (y/n). Sure, we've seen a lot as heroes, but it's not like we went on a killing spree before puberty or anything."

I didn't respond. That cut deep.