Fic: Five Days Gone 3/8 [DCU--Tim/Cissie]
Title: Five Days Gone
Authors: lady_sarai, zoe_chan
Continuity: Future AU.
Word Count: Total length: 31,500 This chapter: 1,300
Pairing/Characters: Tim/Cissie, Bruce, Dick, Kon, Bart
Rating/Warnings: Teen for language
Disclaimer: We do not own anything or anyone. We promise.
Note: As stated--this takes place in the future. Bart and Kon are alive (it's very handwavey as to how), Tim and Cissie are married. Tim has given up Robin and become Kestrel.
Summary: Cissie gets kidnapped.
Chapter 3: October 17th
“You know, if you weren’t such a pain in the ass all the time, we wouldn’t have to keep you tied up. You might be able to feed yourself.” John set a microwave dinner tray on the table next to Cissie.
She glared at him mutely until he pulled the duct tape away from her mouth. “Ow.”
He made a face. “Sorry.”
“If you were sorry, you’d let me go,” she snapped.
“Not that sorry. How does macaroni and cheese sound tonight?”
“I’m not hungry,” she said flatly.
“You haven’t eaten in two days,” John reminded her.
She gave a derisive snort. “I don’t know. Being kidnapped, tied, and doped up tends to take away my appetite.”
“Look, if you don’t start eating, Bill is going to start trying to feed you. You don’t want that-trust me.”
“There’s a lot I don’t want right now.” She glared at him. “Trust me.”
He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat before producing a water bottle. “Well, will you at least have something to drink?”
“Oh, now you’re giving me a choice?”
“Well, I could just dump the water down your throat until you swallow, but that wouldn’t amuse either me or you, so can we go with the compromise? I even brought a straw this time.”
“How thoughtful of you,” she said dryly.
“That’s a yes?” He sounded absurdly-ridiculously-hopeful. She gave him a filthy look as he brought the water bottle to her lips. She clamped them together tightly. He rolled his eyes. “Please don’t make me plug your nose.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m making this so terribly difficult for you,” she snapped irritably. He took the opportunity to force the straw between her lips. She spit it out again.
“Fine.” He pinched her nose shut until she was forced to open her mouth again. “Now drink, or you don’t get to breathe.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re not my type. Drink the damned water.”
She glared at him for several moments. “Okay, look. Let’s make a deal.”
“What?” he asked warily.
“I’ll drink the fucking water if you’ll loosen my wrists a little.”
He looked uncertain. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
She sighed heavily and shifted restlessly. “I can’t feel my fingers.”
He regarded her for several long moments. “Fine,” he said finally. “But you have to have a bite of macaroni, too. And maybe some peas.”
Her head rolled back against the chair in exasperation. “Fine,” she bit out.
He nodded and went behind the chair to loosen the ropes slightly. She felt the beginnings of the pins-and-needles sensation that meant that circulation was coming back to her hands when he came back in front of her. “Water-and a little to eat,” he said firmly.
~*~
“So-what do you think he wants?” Bart asked, frowning around the inside of the apartment. “I mean-I don’t want to go through his underwear drawer, but he probably needs some, and I don’t think I want to know if Tim is a boxers or briefs guy.”
Kon made an unhappy little noise. “Oh god,” he murmured, grimacing.
“Do you?” Bart looked a little wild. “Because I don’t think I can handle the information. It’s like breaking into the Secret Robin Sanctum.”
“No-I don’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “We’ll just grab some clothes. And we won’t look at the underwear-just grab it.”
“Goodplan,” Bart said, nodding vigorously. “Should we grab anything else while we’re here?”
Kon made a face. “I can’t think of anything. How much clothing do you think we should grab?”
Bart blinked at him a couple of times. “Um. A week? Maybe? How often do you think Alfred does laundry, because we should grab at least that much. Do you think he’s one of those crazy people that does it every week?”
Kon gave him a wary look. “I’m not asking you how often you do laundry.”
Bart shrugged. “When I run out of clean clothes.”
“You must have a lot of underwear,” Kon muttered.
“Duh.”
Kon rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Let’s just do this-maybe we can grab something to eat after.”
“Mmph. Good idea. I don’t really want to go back yet, do you?”
“No,” Kon said feelingly. “I hate to say it, but I need some space.”
“Yeah. Who knew Tim would be so smothering as a non-presence? Can you believe he really has this t-shirt? Where do you think he got it?” Bart asked, holding up a shirt that said “Let me drop everything and work on your problem.”
Kon turned and frowned at the shirt. “Probably Dick.”
“Mm. Probably.” He tossed the shirt aside. “Not that one-it’s not cheerful. Do you think he has any Hawaiian shirts? Those are cheerful. They might make him smile.”
“Those are tacky. I should know-I have a bunch. And don’t hold your breath.”
Bart made a face. “True. Plus, Alfred might not let us in the house with them.”
Kon snorted. “Good point.” He shoved a pair of jeans into the duffle bag they’d brought to pack the clothing into.
Bart watched him suspiciously. “I didn’t think Tim owned jeans.”
“I got them for him last Christmas. He can wear them.”
“Probably wouldn’t even notice,” Bart muttered, frowning at another t-shirt.
“Yeah. You’re probably right.” He sighed. “I just don’t know what to do with him right now.”
“Yeah, I know.” Bart scowled and tossed the shirt aside. “He’s all breaky.”
“That’s not a word.”
“No kidding. And I don’t care,” Bart said stubbornly. “It’s what he is.”
“Try ‘broken’ next time.”
“Whatever.” The doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.
“Lovely,” Kon muttered, glowering toward the door. “Who do you think it is?”
“Please tell me it’s not the press,” Bart said feelingly, making his way toward the door. He peeked through the peephole. “Hey! She’s got food!” he called back to Kon before opening the door. “Hi,” he said with a wide smile to the woman standing on the other side of the threshold.
She blinked at him in surprise. “Um. Hi. My name is Rosa-I live downstairs.”
“I’m Bart-this is Conner. We’re friends of Tim and Cissie’s-we came to grab some clothes for him while he stays with his family.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the bedroom behind him.
“How is he?” she asked, a concerned look on her face. “Have you heard anything about Cissie?”
“He’s… uh…” Kon’s voice trailed off and he looked uncomfortable. “There hasn’t been any word yet,” he finished lamely.
She made a face. “I’m so sorry. Cissie babysits for my girls sometimes when I have to work late. They’re such nice people. They don’t deserve something like this to happen to them.”
“No, they really don’t,” Kon said, frowning slightly. They stood there awkwardly for a few moments, staring at each other.
Rosa held out the tinfoil covered baking pan. “I made lasagna,” she said abruptly. “I wasn’t sure if Tim would be staying here or with his family, but it freezes really well.” She pushed the pan into Bart’s hands.
“Thanks,” he said, offering her a smile. “I’ll tell him you came by?”
“Thank you. Tell Tim that he and Cissie are in our prayers.”
“I will,” Bart promised.
She smiled. “It was very nice to meet you both.” She turned and started heading back down the stairs again.
Bart closed the door behind her and looked at Kon over the tinfoil covered pan. “This smells heavenly,” he told him.
“That was nice of her. You should put that in the freezer.”
Bart gave him a pleading look. “But it smells so good.”
“We’ll find an Italian restaurant. Put the comfort food in the freezer, Bart. It’s not for you.”
Bart scowled fiercely at him for several moments before finally doing as he was told. “I hate you so much.”
“I know. I’ll buy lunch.”
~*~
Authors: lady_sarai, zoe_chan
Continuity: Future AU.
Word Count: Total length: 31,500 This chapter: 1,300
Pairing/Characters: Tim/Cissie, Bruce, Dick, Kon, Bart
Rating/Warnings: Teen for language
Disclaimer: We do not own anything or anyone. We promise.
Note: As stated--this takes place in the future. Bart and Kon are alive (it's very handwavey as to how), Tim and Cissie are married. Tim has given up Robin and become Kestrel.
Summary: Cissie gets kidnapped.
Chapter 3: October 17th
“You know, if you weren’t such a pain in the ass all the time, we wouldn’t have to keep you tied up. You might be able to feed yourself.” John set a microwave dinner tray on the table next to Cissie.
She glared at him mutely until he pulled the duct tape away from her mouth. “Ow.”
He made a face. “Sorry.”
“If you were sorry, you’d let me go,” she snapped.
“Not that sorry. How does macaroni and cheese sound tonight?”
“I’m not hungry,” she said flatly.
“You haven’t eaten in two days,” John reminded her.
She gave a derisive snort. “I don’t know. Being kidnapped, tied, and doped up tends to take away my appetite.”
“Look, if you don’t start eating, Bill is going to start trying to feed you. You don’t want that-trust me.”
“There’s a lot I don’t want right now.” She glared at him. “Trust me.”
He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat before producing a water bottle. “Well, will you at least have something to drink?”
“Oh, now you’re giving me a choice?”
“Well, I could just dump the water down your throat until you swallow, but that wouldn’t amuse either me or you, so can we go with the compromise? I even brought a straw this time.”
“How thoughtful of you,” she said dryly.
“That’s a yes?” He sounded absurdly-ridiculously-hopeful. She gave him a filthy look as he brought the water bottle to her lips. She clamped them together tightly. He rolled his eyes. “Please don’t make me plug your nose.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m making this so terribly difficult for you,” she snapped irritably. He took the opportunity to force the straw between her lips. She spit it out again.
“Fine.” He pinched her nose shut until she was forced to open her mouth again. “Now drink, or you don’t get to breathe.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re not my type. Drink the damned water.”
She glared at him for several moments. “Okay, look. Let’s make a deal.”
“What?” he asked warily.
“I’ll drink the fucking water if you’ll loosen my wrists a little.”
He looked uncertain. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
She sighed heavily and shifted restlessly. “I can’t feel my fingers.”
He regarded her for several long moments. “Fine,” he said finally. “But you have to have a bite of macaroni, too. And maybe some peas.”
Her head rolled back against the chair in exasperation. “Fine,” she bit out.
He nodded and went behind the chair to loosen the ropes slightly. She felt the beginnings of the pins-and-needles sensation that meant that circulation was coming back to her hands when he came back in front of her. “Water-and a little to eat,” he said firmly.
~*~
“So-what do you think he wants?” Bart asked, frowning around the inside of the apartment. “I mean-I don’t want to go through his underwear drawer, but he probably needs some, and I don’t think I want to know if Tim is a boxers or briefs guy.”
Kon made an unhappy little noise. “Oh god,” he murmured, grimacing.
“Do you?” Bart looked a little wild. “Because I don’t think I can handle the information. It’s like breaking into the Secret Robin Sanctum.”
“No-I don’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “We’ll just grab some clothes. And we won’t look at the underwear-just grab it.”
“Goodplan,” Bart said, nodding vigorously. “Should we grab anything else while we’re here?”
Kon made a face. “I can’t think of anything. How much clothing do you think we should grab?”
Bart blinked at him a couple of times. “Um. A week? Maybe? How often do you think Alfred does laundry, because we should grab at least that much. Do you think he’s one of those crazy people that does it every week?”
Kon gave him a wary look. “I’m not asking you how often you do laundry.”
Bart shrugged. “When I run out of clean clothes.”
“You must have a lot of underwear,” Kon muttered.
“Duh.”
Kon rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Let’s just do this-maybe we can grab something to eat after.”
“Mmph. Good idea. I don’t really want to go back yet, do you?”
“No,” Kon said feelingly. “I hate to say it, but I need some space.”
“Yeah. Who knew Tim would be so smothering as a non-presence? Can you believe he really has this t-shirt? Where do you think he got it?” Bart asked, holding up a shirt that said “Let me drop everything and work on your problem.”
Kon turned and frowned at the shirt. “Probably Dick.”
“Mm. Probably.” He tossed the shirt aside. “Not that one-it’s not cheerful. Do you think he has any Hawaiian shirts? Those are cheerful. They might make him smile.”
“Those are tacky. I should know-I have a bunch. And don’t hold your breath.”
Bart made a face. “True. Plus, Alfred might not let us in the house with them.”
Kon snorted. “Good point.” He shoved a pair of jeans into the duffle bag they’d brought to pack the clothing into.
Bart watched him suspiciously. “I didn’t think Tim owned jeans.”
“I got them for him last Christmas. He can wear them.”
“Probably wouldn’t even notice,” Bart muttered, frowning at another t-shirt.
“Yeah. You’re probably right.” He sighed. “I just don’t know what to do with him right now.”
“Yeah, I know.” Bart scowled and tossed the shirt aside. “He’s all breaky.”
“That’s not a word.”
“No kidding. And I don’t care,” Bart said stubbornly. “It’s what he is.”
“Try ‘broken’ next time.”
“Whatever.” The doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.
“Lovely,” Kon muttered, glowering toward the door. “Who do you think it is?”
“Please tell me it’s not the press,” Bart said feelingly, making his way toward the door. He peeked through the peephole. “Hey! She’s got food!” he called back to Kon before opening the door. “Hi,” he said with a wide smile to the woman standing on the other side of the threshold.
She blinked at him in surprise. “Um. Hi. My name is Rosa-I live downstairs.”
“I’m Bart-this is Conner. We’re friends of Tim and Cissie’s-we came to grab some clothes for him while he stays with his family.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the bedroom behind him.
“How is he?” she asked, a concerned look on her face. “Have you heard anything about Cissie?”
“He’s… uh…” Kon’s voice trailed off and he looked uncomfortable. “There hasn’t been any word yet,” he finished lamely.
She made a face. “I’m so sorry. Cissie babysits for my girls sometimes when I have to work late. They’re such nice people. They don’t deserve something like this to happen to them.”
“No, they really don’t,” Kon said, frowning slightly. They stood there awkwardly for a few moments, staring at each other.
Rosa held out the tinfoil covered baking pan. “I made lasagna,” she said abruptly. “I wasn’t sure if Tim would be staying here or with his family, but it freezes really well.” She pushed the pan into Bart’s hands.
“Thanks,” he said, offering her a smile. “I’ll tell him you came by?”
“Thank you. Tell Tim that he and Cissie are in our prayers.”
“I will,” Bart promised.
She smiled. “It was very nice to meet you both.” She turned and started heading back down the stairs again.
Bart closed the door behind her and looked at Kon over the tinfoil covered pan. “This smells heavenly,” he told him.
“That was nice of her. You should put that in the freezer.”
Bart gave him a pleading look. “But it smells so good.”
“We’ll find an Italian restaurant. Put the comfort food in the freezer, Bart. It’s not for you.”
Bart scowled fiercely at him for several moments before finally doing as he was told. “I hate you so much.”
“I know. I’ll buy lunch.”
~*~