We Get What We Get (Part 2)

We Get What We Get 2

He can’t be saved…he has to be stopped.

Dick would have liked to believe that it was the freezing weather from outside that made him shudder. But it was Kory’s words ringing home for the first time that did.

Heck, who wouldn’t be so pressed with obligation after combing through the freak show at the Arkham Asylum…an actual massacre orchestrated by Batman himself?

Gotham City Police Department had literally descended into chaos afterwards. Almost everyone was barking at each another now… and pointing accusing fingers too.

Across the long hall, Captain Frank Finney was in a heated discussion with his lieutenants, very nearly foaming at the mouth. Dick could swear he had seen that man somewhere, but he could not pin down where just yet.

As he mulled over that, his eyes suddenly landed on the purple streak that was Kory’s top as she glided across the hall, still every bit the epitome of calm and determination in a whirlpool of confusion.

He has to be stopped, Dick remembered, as Kory vanished into a corner. Still, he remained leaning on the desk in his work station, more of a wistful observer than he was a detective.
“Coffee?” Kory was standing at his doorway once again, two steaming cups of coffee in her hands.

Dick barely flinched at her surprise entrance this time. The nightmare at Arkham had wrung him dry of all emotions anyway.

“I’ll be joining you guys in a second,” he sighed, squeezing his eyelids shut for a moment.

“Not in that condition.”

Kory closed the distance between them, forcing one cup into Dick’s hand. “This is pretty good for Department coffee, you know. You’ll be up and running in---”

Kory almost spilled her coffee when she spotted Dick’s right fist. “What the fuck is this?”

Dick recoiled his swollen, throbbing hand from Kory’s prying touch---the one he had generously dug into the asshole’s face at the hotel.

“Not important,” he grunted, using his left hand to set Kory’s coffee cup on the desk.

She grabbed his hand anyway, and he could tell she was gasping---even from behind her unimpressed, quirked eyebrow look.

“You punched a guy?”

“It could have been worse.”

“Stop defending yourself.”

Dick pursed his lips, slipping his hand out of Kory’s warm ones.

“I stopped myself before it could get worse---can I at least get some credit for that?”

A suppressed laugh escaped from Kory’s lips. Her large, emerald eyes met Dick’s in a dazed moment, and it was then he noticed how slightly reflective and nostalgic she seemed.

So he quickly steered the conversation anywhere else but where both she and he were threatening to head. “How is life taking you?”

Dick could have cringed at how general the question sounded. “I mean, we’ve talked about everything but you so far, you know,” he added more confidently.

Kory’s forehead wrinkled. “Your former friend is on a murderous rampage and you wanna know how I’m doing?”

“It’s been a while,” Dick insisted, sipping his warm coffee, “A lot must’ve happened.”

When Kory’s shoulders dropped quite uncharacteristically, a wave of apprehension swept across Dick’s gut for a brief moment: he had never known her to be reluctant about sharing anything.