[email log] grounded
Dated December 29, 2008.
I should be happy. I am happy. Tim has his other best friend back. And it's good to see Kon alive, really good. I can't help being happy he's here, for all of us. Bart and Cassie needed him too.
But I'm worried, too, that the island's getting more virulent. Since I got here, the number of people from home has doubled. It might not be a coincidence, either, Kon showing up after his statue. Does that mean we're going to get Jason or Steph or Black Mask next? I can't even mention that to Tim. Even hinting that I've considered Steph might show up will devastate him.
What's next though? And will it be good or bad? How do I balance wanting to get us home with rebuilding what I left in Manhattan? Who am I here where "Robin" is a full-time job description...and I'm starting to need one myself?
I feel...muddy. Grounded. And muddy.
Can't tax Tim with getting me clean and clear. My Robin's too fragile. Don't want to put anymore on Roy, not with Lian's birthday around the corner. Etai yazi. Wish I could talk to Clark. He's always been good at that. But not this one.
Need to talk to someone. Get my head straight. I hate to do this to her...
Again.
"Babs, princess?" From the door in the hall he can hear her typing. He enters without knocking, pulls the door shut behind him and leans in the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. She hasn't even looked up. That makes him smile. "O."
The 'O' gets him the briefest looks- a cursory glance to see if he's in uniform, her fingers still moving. She'd gotten Good- probably was an understatement, capital G and all- at multitasking over the years.
"Come in. Shut the door." Two sentences, short and to the point. Anyone but Dick, Roy, and a host of people back home would think she was angry. The others had, on occasion, actually confronted her about it, which had been rewarded with a (slightly) confused look and an explanation that was tuned to a five-year-old psyche.
'I'm not angry, I'm Working.'
"Have a seat, Dick." She flipped through the book to her left, eyes flicking up again just long enough to see if he'd comply before looking back down, streams of code reflected in her glasses.
Man, she missed her holographic screens.
His smile deepens for the tone. She's working again, really working. He's missed seeing the green lines of computer code reflected in her glasses and her fingers tapping on the keyboard. "You look happy," he says as he settles at the edge of the bed. "Working on your intranet project?"
"Actually, I'm working on teaching myself some form of Gallifreyan programming." Her eyes flicked up to his for just another moment. "It's not going well. I'm not even sure which number system they use, if they use any at all. I may end up using something I already know, instead." She didn't stop typing. She'd ask him, soon enough, why he stopped by - even she knew this wasn't a social call.
"Gallifreyan?" Dick lifts an eyebrow, arms folding over his chest. He kicks his feet out in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankles. "The Doctor gave you access to his tech?" They had files, of course, but they were so incomplete. Anything she could learn would be of use.
"He's letting me use the TARDIS as a repeater, and some other things. The rest, I'm learning, from the bookshelves - they gave me a ton of info, but a lot of it's not from the right time period for me to use." She flipped a few pages. "Somehow, I don't think you're here to talk to me about the intranet, Grayson." And then, she just waited, still typing.
"Doesn't the TARDIS have to let you use it?" It's sentient, living tech from what he understands. Obviously the Doctor could ask the TARDIS to permit it, but can he order it? Dick pushes a hand through his hair and smiles sheepishly. "No, I didn't. Truth is, there's a lot going on and I could use a sounding board."
"I'd assume the Doctor could handle it, but that's neither here nor there." She looked up now, for a long moment. "I'm an excellent sounding board, if I do say so myself. So. Spill."
"You're a princess, Babs. Thanks." Dick scoots back on the bed until he can tip his head back against the wall and breathe for a few minutes while he finds the first thread. They've been friends and lovers so long and so many times, he's comfortable being silent in her presence and she'll work until he's ready to talk. "I had it all figured out at home. I was done earning respect, carving out a niche, making a name. Now that's gone...and some days I feel like I'm starting the Titans all over again, year one."
"Mmm," she said before she waited, typing. She got another three pages of code blocked out in her head before he spoke. Her eyes flicked up to his again, to watch him. Every move, trying to get more of a read on him through his body then just his voice. "It's not just the Titans." It was everything. Every single thing he'd built.
She'd wondered how much it got to him.
"Well, yeah," Dick agrees, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. "I meant that I feel like I did when I was starting the Titans. I have no idea what I'm doing here, half the time. I'm flying by the seat of my pants --" He flashes her a grin for that, because they both know he's good at that most of the time. "Doing the things we've always done because we've always done them. But at home obligations to family, even my Titans when we lived together, weren't like it is now, here. That starts to take over and I wonder if maybe we need to reevaluate 'what we've always done' in favor of what will work here." One hand slides up and through his hair and he drops his chin to his knees.
He's not making a lot of sense, but how is he supposed to say 'Kon's here, and Tim's happier, and I don't know what I'm doing when I don't have being for him to define myself' when he just spent a year learning not to define himself by being for Bruce?
She stopped, and lowered the lid of her computer so it closed with a click. "Dick," she said, her lips pressed together for a moment. "Is that a bad thing? I mean, you're a different man then you were when you started the Titans, but you'd make a good thing, here." She was watching him still, trying to figure out how he'd react. That was the problem - trying to figure out what worked and what he really wanted to do past just talking.
"I started the Titans because the sidekicks needed people their own age to share the burdens and the nightmares with," Dick answers, remembering those first years with his team and how they'd grown together. "Here, it's...more starting families than teams. That's good. It suits me, but there's no work for us. No mission, except being ready and being there for each other." He runs his hand through his hair, not frustrated, just thoughtful. "Does Tabula Rasa really need capes, Babs? That's the question I keep asking and I don't have a good answer."
"You just answered your own question," she said quietly. "Be ready. Be here for each other. That's what they need, and what you need, honestly. This place needs an emergency team available when the shit hits the fan, but as far as I can tell, they don't need day to day capes." She flipped open her laptop again, her eyes scanning the computer - not ignoring him, just... needing to make notes.
Dropping his head to his knees again, he watches her a few minutes before he says anything. Finally he spits out what's really bugging him, because it's Babs and he can. "Just worried about losing the guy I spent a year looking for." The guy he gave her up to be. "Finally started living for me, but there are so many people who need me here...it's hard to keep a grip on him."
"What does he do when people need him?" She asked it evenly - it might be easier to talk about the person he'd become - a stronger, more mature man - harder, though - abstractly. "And how is that different then the way you are?" Half - or more - of the people here who needed him so much didn't know him before.
She wondered, perhaps, if he was mostly talking about her, Roy, and Tim. That, or if the new him just didn't take care of people. She somehow doubted that.
His toes flex against the edge of the bed. Down, then up again, marking time with his thoughts. He never can sit still for long unless he's on a stakeout, but even then, Tim claims if he's not moving, his hair is or his gaze is. And that's not the point, he's avoiding the question, fingers tapping against his shins.
"That hasn't changed. I'm still here when people need me. But I guess I've pushed more toward being the big crisis, final authority or the climactic intervention guy and let other people handle more of the day to day emotional maintenance." It'd been like that in the best days with the Titans. Donna being there all the time, Roy being there for the two of them, and him swooping in when anyone got so whacked they needed his strength and Bat-clarity along with the hug.
"But there were reasons for that at home. I had Manhattan to patrol. The kids at Bones on the weekend. Curating at the Cloisters. There were reasons I couldn't drop everything and be there for the newest relationship drama or hurt feelings." Plus everyone had been together long enough that they managed a lot of that on their own. "Here, there's just nothing to keep me from being nibbled to death by ducks, because..." He pushes a hand through his hair and shrugs. There's no need to say, I need to keep moving or I need to be needed. She knows. "Because. I need to find things to do for me." Like the freefall he'd been training for back home.
"Well," She said, considering even as she watched every move. Careful. She knew that it wasn't him leaning on her, he honestly just needed advice - but she didn't want to negatively impact the changes he'd made - they were a good ones, and she knew he was better for them. "There are things here you could do - for you, not for the Titans in specific." She paused again. "What about the school?" Honestly, she thought he'd do well with younger children; not necessarily elementary school age, but middle school to high school. "There's actually a lot of places around here that need help, that aren't you trying to hold them all together."
He nods, just once. "The school, the museum...I promised Coraline I'd help with her fun fair. Even a circus." Straightening his legs, he scoots to the edge of the bed to rest his elbows on his knees. "Those are good things, but all things about helping other people. I guess what I'm missing most is the stuff I was doing for no one but me. I have to figure out what those things can be here." Besides sex. Inside his head, what he'd never say to her not here and now: I miss the rush. I miss flying.
The conversation was heading dangerous places, places where his need would call to her and hers to him and they'd end up finding a rush together. Pushing up to his feet, he smiled and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "Thanks, Babs. At least I know where to start now."
"Anytime. You know that." She smiled at him, wondering if anything had actually been settled before her eyes flicked back to her laptop. "I'll talk to you later."
I should be happy. I am happy. Tim has his other best friend back. And it's good to see Kon alive, really good. I can't help being happy he's here, for all of us. Bart and Cassie needed him too.
But I'm worried, too, that the island's getting more virulent. Since I got here, the number of people from home has doubled. It might not be a coincidence, either, Kon showing up after his statue. Does that mean we're going to get Jason or Steph or Black Mask next? I can't even mention that to Tim. Even hinting that I've considered Steph might show up will devastate him.
What's next though? And will it be good or bad? How do I balance wanting to get us home with rebuilding what I left in Manhattan? Who am I here where "Robin" is a full-time job description...and I'm starting to need one myself?
I feel...muddy. Grounded. And muddy.
Can't tax Tim with getting me clean and clear. My Robin's too fragile. Don't want to put anymore on Roy, not with Lian's birthday around the corner. Etai yazi. Wish I could talk to Clark. He's always been good at that. But not this one.
Need to talk to someone. Get my head straight. I hate to do this to her...
Again.
"Babs, princess?" From the door in the hall he can hear her typing. He enters without knocking, pulls the door shut behind him and leans in the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. She hasn't even looked up. That makes him smile. "O."
The 'O' gets him the briefest looks- a cursory glance to see if he's in uniform, her fingers still moving. She'd gotten Good- probably was an understatement, capital G and all- at multitasking over the years.
"Come in. Shut the door." Two sentences, short and to the point. Anyone but Dick, Roy, and a host of people back home would think she was angry. The others had, on occasion, actually confronted her about it, which had been rewarded with a (slightly) confused look and an explanation that was tuned to a five-year-old psyche.
'I'm not angry, I'm Working.'
"Have a seat, Dick." She flipped through the book to her left, eyes flicking up again just long enough to see if he'd comply before looking back down, streams of code reflected in her glasses.
Man, she missed her holographic screens.
His smile deepens for the tone. She's working again, really working. He's missed seeing the green lines of computer code reflected in her glasses and her fingers tapping on the keyboard. "You look happy," he says as he settles at the edge of the bed. "Working on your intranet project?"
"Actually, I'm working on teaching myself some form of Gallifreyan programming." Her eyes flicked up to his for just another moment. "It's not going well. I'm not even sure which number system they use, if they use any at all. I may end up using something I already know, instead." She didn't stop typing. She'd ask him, soon enough, why he stopped by - even she knew this wasn't a social call.
"Gallifreyan?" Dick lifts an eyebrow, arms folding over his chest. He kicks his feet out in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankles. "The Doctor gave you access to his tech?" They had files, of course, but they were so incomplete. Anything she could learn would be of use.
"He's letting me use the TARDIS as a repeater, and some other things. The rest, I'm learning, from the bookshelves - they gave me a ton of info, but a lot of it's not from the right time period for me to use." She flipped a few pages. "Somehow, I don't think you're here to talk to me about the intranet, Grayson." And then, she just waited, still typing.
"Doesn't the TARDIS have to let you use it?" It's sentient, living tech from what he understands. Obviously the Doctor could ask the TARDIS to permit it, but can he order it? Dick pushes a hand through his hair and smiles sheepishly. "No, I didn't. Truth is, there's a lot going on and I could use a sounding board."
"I'd assume the Doctor could handle it, but that's neither here nor there." She looked up now, for a long moment. "I'm an excellent sounding board, if I do say so myself. So. Spill."
"You're a princess, Babs. Thanks." Dick scoots back on the bed until he can tip his head back against the wall and breathe for a few minutes while he finds the first thread. They've been friends and lovers so long and so many times, he's comfortable being silent in her presence and she'll work until he's ready to talk. "I had it all figured out at home. I was done earning respect, carving out a niche, making a name. Now that's gone...and some days I feel like I'm starting the Titans all over again, year one."
"Mmm," she said before she waited, typing. She got another three pages of code blocked out in her head before he spoke. Her eyes flicked up to his again, to watch him. Every move, trying to get more of a read on him through his body then just his voice. "It's not just the Titans." It was everything. Every single thing he'd built.
She'd wondered how much it got to him.
"Well, yeah," Dick agrees, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. "I meant that I feel like I did when I was starting the Titans. I have no idea what I'm doing here, half the time. I'm flying by the seat of my pants --" He flashes her a grin for that, because they both know he's good at that most of the time. "Doing the things we've always done because we've always done them. But at home obligations to family, even my Titans when we lived together, weren't like it is now, here. That starts to take over and I wonder if maybe we need to reevaluate 'what we've always done' in favor of what will work here." One hand slides up and through his hair and he drops his chin to his knees.
He's not making a lot of sense, but how is he supposed to say 'Kon's here, and Tim's happier, and I don't know what I'm doing when I don't have being for him to define myself' when he just spent a year learning not to define himself by being for Bruce?
She stopped, and lowered the lid of her computer so it closed with a click. "Dick," she said, her lips pressed together for a moment. "Is that a bad thing? I mean, you're a different man then you were when you started the Titans, but you'd make a good thing, here." She was watching him still, trying to figure out how he'd react. That was the problem - trying to figure out what worked and what he really wanted to do past just talking.
"I started the Titans because the sidekicks needed people their own age to share the burdens and the nightmares with," Dick answers, remembering those first years with his team and how they'd grown together. "Here, it's...more starting families than teams. That's good. It suits me, but there's no work for us. No mission, except being ready and being there for each other." He runs his hand through his hair, not frustrated, just thoughtful. "Does Tabula Rasa really need capes, Babs? That's the question I keep asking and I don't have a good answer."
"You just answered your own question," she said quietly. "Be ready. Be here for each other. That's what they need, and what you need, honestly. This place needs an emergency team available when the shit hits the fan, but as far as I can tell, they don't need day to day capes." She flipped open her laptop again, her eyes scanning the computer - not ignoring him, just... needing to make notes.
Dropping his head to his knees again, he watches her a few minutes before he says anything. Finally he spits out what's really bugging him, because it's Babs and he can. "Just worried about losing the guy I spent a year looking for." The guy he gave her up to be. "Finally started living for me, but there are so many people who need me here...it's hard to keep a grip on him."
"What does he do when people need him?" She asked it evenly - it might be easier to talk about the person he'd become - a stronger, more mature man - harder, though - abstractly. "And how is that different then the way you are?" Half - or more - of the people here who needed him so much didn't know him before.
She wondered, perhaps, if he was mostly talking about her, Roy, and Tim. That, or if the new him just didn't take care of people. She somehow doubted that.
His toes flex against the edge of the bed. Down, then up again, marking time with his thoughts. He never can sit still for long unless he's on a stakeout, but even then, Tim claims if he's not moving, his hair is or his gaze is. And that's not the point, he's avoiding the question, fingers tapping against his shins.
"That hasn't changed. I'm still here when people need me. But I guess I've pushed more toward being the big crisis, final authority or the climactic intervention guy and let other people handle more of the day to day emotional maintenance." It'd been like that in the best days with the Titans. Donna being there all the time, Roy being there for the two of them, and him swooping in when anyone got so whacked they needed his strength and Bat-clarity along with the hug.
"But there were reasons for that at home. I had Manhattan to patrol. The kids at Bones on the weekend. Curating at the Cloisters. There were reasons I couldn't drop everything and be there for the newest relationship drama or hurt feelings." Plus everyone had been together long enough that they managed a lot of that on their own. "Here, there's just nothing to keep me from being nibbled to death by ducks, because..." He pushes a hand through his hair and shrugs. There's no need to say, I need to keep moving or I need to be needed. She knows. "Because. I need to find things to do for me." Like the freefall he'd been training for back home.
"Well," She said, considering even as she watched every move. Careful. She knew that it wasn't him leaning on her, he honestly just needed advice - but she didn't want to negatively impact the changes he'd made - they were a good ones, and she knew he was better for them. "There are things here you could do - for you, not for the Titans in specific." She paused again. "What about the school?" Honestly, she thought he'd do well with younger children; not necessarily elementary school age, but middle school to high school. "There's actually a lot of places around here that need help, that aren't you trying to hold them all together."
He nods, just once. "The school, the museum...I promised Coraline I'd help with her fun fair. Even a circus." Straightening his legs, he scoots to the edge of the bed to rest his elbows on his knees. "Those are good things, but all things about helping other people. I guess what I'm missing most is the stuff I was doing for no one but me. I have to figure out what those things can be here." Besides sex. Inside his head, what he'd never say to her not here and now: I miss the rush. I miss flying.
The conversation was heading dangerous places, places where his need would call to her and hers to him and they'd end up finding a rush together. Pushing up to his feet, he smiled and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "Thanks, Babs. At least I know where to start now."
"Anytime. You know that." She smiled at him, wondering if anything had actually been settled before her eyes flicked back to her laptop. "I'll talk to you later."