NoirVerse: After the End Credits
Written with permission of gunslingerpose, and following the events of the Noir Weekend!
At some point, long after being picked up like a damsel by Jessica and rushed after Kath-- Lady Dokkaebi and her girls, Nikolai woke up in the Clinic.
The screaming pain in his eyes had faded to a hot soreness, and his arm was bandaged and in a cast, which was the only thing that kept him from rubbing at his eyelids immediately. He could hear medical equipment sounds-- a heart monitor, maybe-- and the far-off voices of two people talking.
Cool sheets. Soft mattress.
Total darkness.
He closed his eyes again, heartbeat jumping as he remembered what had happened. The sparks of opium heading for his eyes, the pain-- blinding pain--
Kathy.
Dokkaebi.
Four girls circling him like hyenas, eyes glinting in the sodium streetlight-- Jessica stepping in on his side-- Kathy-- no, damnit, Lady Dokkaebi, hurt, and being taken away by Navaan--
How had he not guessed? How had she played him so totally?
Footsteps came into the room, and a man's voice rumbled, "How are you feeling, Mr. Bartamian?"
Like his heart had been pulled out of his throat and stomped on. Like he couldn't breathe around the shame at his stupidity. Like he'd walked into a trap with a knife in his back.
"Like shit."
"Understandable." A shuffling of papers, and a throat-clearing. "I'm your primary physician, Dr. McCoy. I'm gonna give this to you straight. Think you can handle that?"
"That's the way I want it."
"Okay then. You have some second-degree burns on your arm, which hopefully won't scar; broken bones in your hand. Two cracked ribs." An intake of breath. "And very badly damaged corneas."
Nikolai blinked again, darkness in front of his eyes spangled with brief bursts of shadow from blinking, then fading back into nothing. "How badly damaged?"
There was a pause, and then the doctor said, "I'm afraid that without full replacement of your corneas - a very tricky procedure, but not impossible - that you won't see again. The scarring on your eyeballs is too extensive. There might be damage to your retinal nerves as well; right now it's too early to say. You might regain fifteen to twenty percent of your vision, with time. But not much else, without surgery."
Nikolai was silent for a long minute, then asked, "You don't sound real encouraging about that, doc."
"That's 'cause I'm not going to lie to you. The surgery should work, and at least give you some range of vision back." The doctor huffed slightly. "But there's a waiting list. It could be at least a couple years before your name would come up, and then we'd have to check for compatibility. I don't want to get your hopes up for any miracle cure any time soon." The man's voice softened. "Even on this island, some stuff is permanent. This doesn't have to be, but there's no quick fix."
Two years. At least. If that. Two years helpless and.... he'd be easy pickings, for every mob moll he'd pissed off.
To hell with that. If they came for him, he'd empty his gun into them before they took him down. But right now that seemed more like a 'when' than an 'if.'
"I... get it." Nikolai swallowed hard. "Thanks. When can I get out of here?"
"Day after tomorrow." Dr. McCoy paused. "Is there anyone I should call to come pick you up? You're going to need some help for a while, son."
Nick gave him a mirthless smile. "I'm expecting the FBI to give me a call." Jessica would want his statement about the attack. She'd show up eventually. And she'd get a medal for this mob take-down, probably. "Other than that, no."
"Hmmm."
"Don't worry, Doc. I'll manage." He'd have to. Otherwise, Lady D (never Kathy, Kathy was a fairy tale she told an idiot who wanted to believe her) might as well have finished the job and left him in the gutter, and he would not accept that. "Might need someone to call me a cab when it's time to check out of this lovely establishment, though."
McCoy snorted. "We'll do better than that." His voice gentled, the harsh edges to the southern accent slowing down. "Take it easy for the next couple days. You've got a lot of changes to adjust to, but you've got time."
"Sure thing, Doc. Thanks."
He waited until he heard McCoy's footsteps exit out into the hallway before he tilted his head back and closed his eyes again.
The last thing he remembered seeing was Lady Dokkaebi's face as the opium was flung at his eyes.
If he could go back one day, never take the 'case' she'd dreamed up for him, would this have happened? She'd been out for his blood for a while, but if he hadn't trusted Kathy, believed she was the real deal, would he have walked into the trap so.... blindly?
He went over and over that interview in his mind, trying to see the lie in her words, knowing it was all wrong, and he still couldn't do it. Not then, not later. Maybe there was nothing real there to tip him off to when she was being false. Maybe the mask was always in place.
He was going to have to start over. Get a goddamn white cane. Maybe one of those seeing-eye dogs--
Fuck.
Hot tears had started to seep out from under his eyelids. Nik didn't bother wiping them away. It was all because of his injury, anyway.
Thinking back to yesterday, he remembered his second meet of the day, with that other P.I. Lance. If he'd helped her out instead of Lady D in disguise, would he be here right now?
He pursed his lips, and gave a mournful wolf-whistle, even while knowing it was futile.
The scent of ozone and lemon verbena hit him a second before he heard her voice. "Hey. Someone call for back-up?"
"Lance?" Nick jerked his head toward her voice. "When'd you get here?"
"Just now. You whistled." The scent got closer, and a cool hand was laid on his forehead, very lightly. "Looks like you should've done that sooner."
"Looks like." Nick smirked bitterly. "I'll have to take your word for that. Doc says I won't be looking at anything any time soon."
"What happened?" Dinah's voice was concerned, but not pitying.
Which made it easier to tell her the whole mess, beginning to end; his former acquaintance with the opium trade, his crusade, Kathy, Lady Dokkaebi, Jessica, all of it. Lance was silent the whole time, until he fell back into quiet.
She tugged the covers up over him, and he felt a very slight dip in the bed as she leaned against it. "Guess I'm not the only one to have an exciting weekend. I wish I'd been there to help."
"Me too." Nick closed his eyes again, then opened them. "You find your hitter? Heading back to Gotham now?"
"Yes.... and no." Dinah's tone was contemplative. "Found the guy. He confessed. I couldn't take the shot, though." Ruefulness edged her voice. "Guess I'm not a killer. But I thought I'd hang around for a while."
"Why?"
"Why didn't I shoot him, or bring him in? Or why am I hanging around?"
"Whatever. Either." Nick was starting to feel exhausted from talking, and took a moment to cough, wincing at how it hurt his ribs.
"Here." A straw was placed against his lips, and he took a sip of water. "I've got a confession to make too. I told you one lie when I showed up in your office."
"Only one?" Nick would be stunned if it were only that.
"Only one that matters."
He could hear the clock striking midnight somewhere, and the weight left the mattress.
"I thought that might happen." Dinah sounded resigned. "The Black Canary, the singer who got killed?... was me." Nick licked his lips, frowning in her direction, mind whirling. "I thought I'd disappear once I tracked down my killer. But-- it's midnight, a week from when I died, but I'm still here." A very soft tap of heels on the floor. "I'm kind of-- see-through. And I just walked through your bed."
"That's -- a pretty big omission." Nick was still trying to get his head around it. Dead? A ghost? That was going to take some time to believe. If seeing was believing, being blind didn't help. "Who was it that killed you?"
"Eliot Spencer. It didn't even have anything to do with my last case," Dinah sounded vaguely annoyed about that. "Which at least I managed to wrap up before I found him. He said I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Story of my life," Nick muttered. Something like a breeze touched his hair, and he turned his head toward her. "So what, you're going to hang around this crazy island now?"
"You got any better ideas?" Dinah asked.
Nick blinked. Then considered. Then laughed.
"One. Maybe." He took a breath. "It occurs to me this wouldn't have happened, if I had a partner to keep-- an eye on things. And I could use one even more now."
He couldn't hear her breathing. Which made sense, really, if she'd been dead a week already.
"Seriously?" She sounded hopeful, disbelieving. "You're not jerking my chain?"
"Sister, I can't see your chain to jerk it, do I look stupid enough to mess with someone I can't see from a hospital bed? Someone claiming to be dead?"
Dinah snickered, and he felt something on his hand again, then it was definitely fingers holding onto his. Cold, almost insubstantial ones, but still.
"You don't know anything about me."
"Ever take a bribe?" Nick asked. "Ever stab someone in the back?" A little more harshly he asked, "Ever break a heart just because you could?"
A long pause, then, "No. No. And no."
"Good enough for me."
No answer, not for a long minute. "Dinah?"
"Go to sleep, Nick," Dinah whispered. "I'll watch your back."
At some point, long after being picked up like a damsel by Jessica and rushed after Kath-- Lady Dokkaebi and her girls, Nikolai woke up in the Clinic.
The screaming pain in his eyes had faded to a hot soreness, and his arm was bandaged and in a cast, which was the only thing that kept him from rubbing at his eyelids immediately. He could hear medical equipment sounds-- a heart monitor, maybe-- and the far-off voices of two people talking.
Cool sheets. Soft mattress.
Total darkness.
He closed his eyes again, heartbeat jumping as he remembered what had happened. The sparks of opium heading for his eyes, the pain-- blinding pain--
Kathy.
Dokkaebi.
Four girls circling him like hyenas, eyes glinting in the sodium streetlight-- Jessica stepping in on his side-- Kathy-- no, damnit, Lady Dokkaebi, hurt, and being taken away by Navaan--
How had he not guessed? How had she played him so totally?
Footsteps came into the room, and a man's voice rumbled, "How are you feeling, Mr. Bartamian?"
Like his heart had been pulled out of his throat and stomped on. Like he couldn't breathe around the shame at his stupidity. Like he'd walked into a trap with a knife in his back.
"Like shit."
"Understandable." A shuffling of papers, and a throat-clearing. "I'm your primary physician, Dr. McCoy. I'm gonna give this to you straight. Think you can handle that?"
"That's the way I want it."
"Okay then. You have some second-degree burns on your arm, which hopefully won't scar; broken bones in your hand. Two cracked ribs." An intake of breath. "And very badly damaged corneas."
Nikolai blinked again, darkness in front of his eyes spangled with brief bursts of shadow from blinking, then fading back into nothing. "How badly damaged?"
There was a pause, and then the doctor said, "I'm afraid that without full replacement of your corneas - a very tricky procedure, but not impossible - that you won't see again. The scarring on your eyeballs is too extensive. There might be damage to your retinal nerves as well; right now it's too early to say. You might regain fifteen to twenty percent of your vision, with time. But not much else, without surgery."
Nikolai was silent for a long minute, then asked, "You don't sound real encouraging about that, doc."
"That's 'cause I'm not going to lie to you. The surgery should work, and at least give you some range of vision back." The doctor huffed slightly. "But there's a waiting list. It could be at least a couple years before your name would come up, and then we'd have to check for compatibility. I don't want to get your hopes up for any miracle cure any time soon." The man's voice softened. "Even on this island, some stuff is permanent. This doesn't have to be, but there's no quick fix."
Two years. At least. If that. Two years helpless and.... he'd be easy pickings, for every mob moll he'd pissed off.
To hell with that. If they came for him, he'd empty his gun into them before they took him down. But right now that seemed more like a 'when' than an 'if.'
"I... get it." Nikolai swallowed hard. "Thanks. When can I get out of here?"
"Day after tomorrow." Dr. McCoy paused. "Is there anyone I should call to come pick you up? You're going to need some help for a while, son."
Nick gave him a mirthless smile. "I'm expecting the FBI to give me a call." Jessica would want his statement about the attack. She'd show up eventually. And she'd get a medal for this mob take-down, probably. "Other than that, no."
"Hmmm."
"Don't worry, Doc. I'll manage." He'd have to. Otherwise, Lady D (never Kathy, Kathy was a fairy tale she told an idiot who wanted to believe her) might as well have finished the job and left him in the gutter, and he would not accept that. "Might need someone to call me a cab when it's time to check out of this lovely establishment, though."
McCoy snorted. "We'll do better than that." His voice gentled, the harsh edges to the southern accent slowing down. "Take it easy for the next couple days. You've got a lot of changes to adjust to, but you've got time."
"Sure thing, Doc. Thanks."
He waited until he heard McCoy's footsteps exit out into the hallway before he tilted his head back and closed his eyes again.
The last thing he remembered seeing was Lady Dokkaebi's face as the opium was flung at his eyes.
If he could go back one day, never take the 'case' she'd dreamed up for him, would this have happened? She'd been out for his blood for a while, but if he hadn't trusted Kathy, believed she was the real deal, would he have walked into the trap so.... blindly?
He went over and over that interview in his mind, trying to see the lie in her words, knowing it was all wrong, and he still couldn't do it. Not then, not later. Maybe there was nothing real there to tip him off to when she was being false. Maybe the mask was always in place.
He was going to have to start over. Get a goddamn white cane. Maybe one of those seeing-eye dogs--
Fuck.
Hot tears had started to seep out from under his eyelids. Nik didn't bother wiping them away. It was all because of his injury, anyway.
Thinking back to yesterday, he remembered his second meet of the day, with that other P.I. Lance. If he'd helped her out instead of Lady D in disguise, would he be here right now?
He pursed his lips, and gave a mournful wolf-whistle, even while knowing it was futile.
The scent of ozone and lemon verbena hit him a second before he heard her voice. "Hey. Someone call for back-up?"
"Lance?" Nick jerked his head toward her voice. "When'd you get here?"
"Just now. You whistled." The scent got closer, and a cool hand was laid on his forehead, very lightly. "Looks like you should've done that sooner."
"Looks like." Nick smirked bitterly. "I'll have to take your word for that. Doc says I won't be looking at anything any time soon."
"What happened?" Dinah's voice was concerned, but not pitying.
Which made it easier to tell her the whole mess, beginning to end; his former acquaintance with the opium trade, his crusade, Kathy, Lady Dokkaebi, Jessica, all of it. Lance was silent the whole time, until he fell back into quiet.
She tugged the covers up over him, and he felt a very slight dip in the bed as she leaned against it. "Guess I'm not the only one to have an exciting weekend. I wish I'd been there to help."
"Me too." Nick closed his eyes again, then opened them. "You find your hitter? Heading back to Gotham now?"
"Yes.... and no." Dinah's tone was contemplative. "Found the guy. He confessed. I couldn't take the shot, though." Ruefulness edged her voice. "Guess I'm not a killer. But I thought I'd hang around for a while."
"Why?"
"Why didn't I shoot him, or bring him in? Or why am I hanging around?"
"Whatever. Either." Nick was starting to feel exhausted from talking, and took a moment to cough, wincing at how it hurt his ribs.
"Here." A straw was placed against his lips, and he took a sip of water. "I've got a confession to make too. I told you one lie when I showed up in your office."
"Only one?" Nick would be stunned if it were only that.
"Only one that matters."
He could hear the clock striking midnight somewhere, and the weight left the mattress.
"I thought that might happen." Dinah sounded resigned. "The Black Canary, the singer who got killed?... was me." Nick licked his lips, frowning in her direction, mind whirling. "I thought I'd disappear once I tracked down my killer. But-- it's midnight, a week from when I died, but I'm still here." A very soft tap of heels on the floor. "I'm kind of-- see-through. And I just walked through your bed."
"That's -- a pretty big omission." Nick was still trying to get his head around it. Dead? A ghost? That was going to take some time to believe. If seeing was believing, being blind didn't help. "Who was it that killed you?"
"Eliot Spencer. It didn't even have anything to do with my last case," Dinah sounded vaguely annoyed about that. "Which at least I managed to wrap up before I found him. He said I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Story of my life," Nick muttered. Something like a breeze touched his hair, and he turned his head toward her. "So what, you're going to hang around this crazy island now?"
"You got any better ideas?" Dinah asked.
Nick blinked. Then considered. Then laughed.
"One. Maybe." He took a breath. "It occurs to me this wouldn't have happened, if I had a partner to keep-- an eye on things. And I could use one even more now."
He couldn't hear her breathing. Which made sense, really, if she'd been dead a week already.
"Seriously?" She sounded hopeful, disbelieving. "You're not jerking my chain?"
"Sister, I can't see your chain to jerk it, do I look stupid enough to mess with someone I can't see from a hospital bed? Someone claiming to be dead?"
Dinah snickered, and he felt something on his hand again, then it was definitely fingers holding onto his. Cold, almost insubstantial ones, but still.
"You don't know anything about me."
"Ever take a bribe?" Nick asked. "Ever stab someone in the back?" A little more harshly he asked, "Ever break a heart just because you could?"
A long pause, then, "No. No. And no."
"Good enough for me."
No answer, not for a long minute. "Dinah?"
"Go to sleep, Nick," Dinah whispered. "I'll watch your back."