FAULT LINES ━━ titans [REWRITING]

SEVEN.

HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ TOGETHER. ❞

THERES A SAYING. It goes along the lines of: "Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality". Emily Dickinson, one of her many poems. Love is immortality, so maybe it was an act of divine cruelty, a wicked joke, that humans were made so tragically mortal, such fragile beings. Amy Rorhbach had died. No. She had been murdered. And, oh, if Abigail Lance hadn't felt like her world was crumbling before, she did now. The tears left her eyes before she truly had time to register she was crying.

They left streaks and trails down her cheeks, engraving their way into her still dirty and bloody skin. Abby felt her entire body shake and tremble and convulse as sobs ripped themselves from her throat, tearing pieces of her heart out with them. She was supposed to have been safe in Detroit. Amy was supposed to be alive.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Abigail let out another yell, one that sounded more like a battle cry, and maybe it was. Maybe she was waging war against the monsters who did this. The ones who took Rachel and Dawn and Amy from her. How had she already lost two of the people she'd only just gotten back?

Dick watched on with a pained look, feeling as though a thick glass wall stood between him and girl in front. He was watching her heart break through a telescope, so close yet so far away. He wanted to reach for her, hold her, to tell her it was going to be okay, she was going to be okay. But he couldn't. His gaze dropped to his clenched hands and he turned to leave, to give her space to mourn a good friend, a good person.

"Dick...."

Hearing the crack and pain in her voice made him want to bring Amy Rorhbach back to life himself. He would've stormed Hell and taken on the Devil himself. But hearing her speak to him, finally, sent hope through him like a wildfire, burning away the darkness that crawled at the corners. He turned back to her, eyes soft and gentle and brows pulled together.

She stared at her folded hands, "Don't leave me."

Her voice was a whisper against the echoing, empty room. He feared it would swallow her up.

"Just... stay. For me."

Dick's legs were already moving, carrying him back towards the bed, back towards her. He wasn't going to leave her. Not this time. Not again. He stopped at her side, pulling a chair as close as he could as he sat down; Dick's eyes watched her pick at the catheter taped down to the bruised skin of her hand as the tears dried against her red cheeks.

"Stop messing with your IV," he murmured through his breath as he rested a hand on hers, stilling her movements. For a second he worried she'd pull away. She didn't.