The Unbreakable Code (a YJ fanfic)

Chapter Eight: A Tour Of Sacramento

"Yeah the bad guys know us, and they leave us alone."
The Beach Boys, I Get Around

"Wheeeeeeeeeee!" Dad screamed hysterically, as I turned a tight corner. He stuck his head out of the window, and started yelling something along the lines of "Eat my Ukrainian enhanced dust, you American idiots" in his native language.

"Seriously," Natasha rolled her eyes, "why did you have to bring me for this?"

"Because," I said plainly, keeping my eyes on the road.

"So helpful," Natasha grumbled, slouching in her seat. "And by the way, why Sacramento?"

"Because," I stated once more, earning an exaggerated groan from the Russian.

"Are we there yet?" Dad complained.

"Keep yelling out of the rear window, old man," Natasha monotoned.

"Alright, Soviet," Dad mocked. "No need to get moody."

"Wait!" I said suddenly. "Dad, tell me more about this... Guy, who's trying to... Eh... Kill you."

"He is Ukrainian," Dad stated.

"Oh my," I sassed, "so informative."

"Do not mock me!" Dad snapped. "His name is Carter, and he runs a gang known as... The Overdogs."

"The Overdogs?" Nat suddenly shrieked, causing me to miss a sign by centimeters. "You borrowed from the Overdogs?"

"Must I say it again, Soviet?"

"Should I know who these people are?" I asked.

"They are a cult, Em!" Natasha hissed. "And your dolt of a father, has taken ninety hundred dollars from them!"

"I am not a dolt!" Dad declared.

"Oh, tell us another one!" Natasha clapped back.

"Do you not think I feel the gravity of the situation, Soviet?"

"No, I don't, mostly because you're acting as if you were born yesterday!"

"I'll tell you something, all Russians were born yesterday!"

"What is it with you and nationalism?"

"What is it with you and insulting me?"

I hit the brakes, hard. "We're bloody here," I muttered, getting out. Natasha and Dad followed, glaring at each other until they saw the building.

"I'm supposed to live here?" Dad whispered, shaking, as he stared up at the dirty apartment complex. Natasha started to giggle gleefully.

"Are you complaining?" I questioned, shooting my father a sideways stare.

"No, no!" He quickly backtracked, "It's everything I could ever ask for, thank you very much!" He nervously lifted his back pack from the boot of the car, and I handed him a key.

"Eighth floor, flat 56," I instructed. "Call me of there are any problems, and don't step a foot outside unless it's for bulk shopping."

"I have to go shopping?" Dad's face fell.

"Go, you fat sod!" I yelled, pointing a finger, and he scurried off.

"Tsk," Natasha tutted. "He was a bad influence. And a bad impression, actually."

"You think?" I murmered, before taking my buzzing phone from my pocket. "Hello?"

"Emilia!"

"Wally?" I said in disbelief. "How'd you get my number?"

"No time to explain, you have to come to the Hall of Justice! Nightwing blew up the mountain!"

"What?" I yelled.

"What?" Natasha yelled with me.

"Just come! I already spoke to him, but... He needs you."

"Ugh, really?" I groaned, although my cheeks were turning an embarrassing shade of flustered red.

"You're an asshole, but I love you!" Natasha sang in the background. "So much, I think it must be truuuueeee looooveee!"

"Shut the hell up!" I yelled. "I'm coming," I adressed Wally.

"Is that Natasha?" He asked, sounding astonished. "And is she... Singing?"

"Long story, see you Wallman." I hung up.

£

I arrived at the hall, and ran through, trying to find Dick. "Too many hallways," I grumbled, making a face, as I came to yet another junction. "And this isn't even the real HQ..."

I suddenly spotted his figure in a window, slumped over, with a mug of coffee in his hands, in a large room. I navigated my way to the door, and entered quietly. I couldn't tell if he'd noticed me coming in, but I walked over to him, and put a hand on the mug. "Cold." I stated, before drawing a chair, and sitting down. There was a tense silence.

He broke it, with a surprising query, "Why didn't you let me kiss you?"

I froze. "I'm not here to discuss that..."

"What are you here for then?"

It pained me to hear his flat voice; before he had become Nightwing, he'd been so lively... Now he was almost emotionless.  Like Batman.

Like Batman.

"I don't want to be the Batman... Anymore."

He'd told me that once, that he didn't want to sacrifice others for the sake of his mission, like his mentor did.
What the hell was he doing now?

"Dick..." I said slowly. "You told me that you didn't want to be Batman."

Now it was his turn to freeze. He looked at me through his mask, a mixed expression on his face. Without really knowing what I was doing, I peeled back the piece of plastic stuck on his face.

And there were those amazing blue eyes.
Damn it...

"You're not the Dark Knight," I said softly. "Stop trying to act like it."

A boyish grin came across his face. It reminded me of when he had been Robin. I was surprised by my own change of character; I'd slipped back into the quiet, nice, comforting Shadow. I was snatched from my thoughts, when he placed a hand on my shoulder, and started to lean in. And I knew exactly what he intended on doing.

Oh shit.