[Locked to Robin] backdating powers, activate!

[rattle_thecages]

There

He was

I don't want to

Not when everything's finally

Hey.

When you get home, do you think we can talk?

It's not--everything's okay.

Comments

[with_coffee]

It's hard not to remember how she looked when she stepped out of that cab as she finally begins to speak. There's anger as solid as the ground under his feet. It consumes him for a moment, and he has to remind himself that she has a handle on her powers or he'd pull his hand away to keep her from feeling it.

She doesn't have to say who. Of course, she doesn't. He knows immediately, and his free hand trembles helplessly with useless, floods of emotion that threaten to consume him but don't because he has a hand on her. She's there. She's solid, and this is about her as much as he'd like to hunt that man down and tear him from limb to limb that's not going to help her. And if it were that easy, someone would have done it by now.

"He didn't-" hurt you. Physically, he obviously did not because she wouldn't be here otherwise, and he closes his eyes tightly, pressing that trembling hand against his face for a moment and resisting the urge to pull her to him out of the water to be sure that that man left no marks on her body at least. "He just talked to you?"

It's a kind of madness he can never understand. He can understand blind, dark rage consuming and manipulating ones' thoughts until there's nothing but red. He doesn't understand this man. He never wants to.

[rattle_thecages]

Rachel doesn't have to get a read on his emotions to understand what he's feeling. Her sad eyes never leave his face as she waits for his reaction. When Robin presses his hand against his face, Rachel's own hand darts out to grab a hold of it. It is nearly impossible to be in the same room with him and not reach out. It's something more than instinct.

"He didn't," Rachel is quick and firm to assure him. It wasn't at all like last time, though the fact she defied that man when she should have just run still makes her shake slightly. It was a foolish move, but she hadn't been thinking.

She'd been feeling, remembering, hating.

"I hate him, Robin," she says, nails digging into her arms. Rachel's voice doesn't crack but it's a thin whisper. "I've always wanted to be above hating someone but I hate him so much."

[with_coffee]

Robin closes his eyes tighter when she presses her hand to his. He'd been trying to get a handle on those emotions so that he wouldn't encroach on her, because this moment is solely hers. He'll share it with her. He wants to help her and have her not worry about what's going on with him (he should know by now that that's impossible for either of them), and when he removes his hand from his face, he takes hers in his, presses a kiss against her knuckles, and squeezes gently.

He didn't.

Robin nods. There's that at least but he's so angry that that man talked to her again, that he should have said anything at all to her after everything, to act so nonchalantly playing with peoples lives like he is a god or the devil, himself.

He reaches over placing his hands over hers when her nails dig into her arms, pulling her hands away from her arms as gently as possible. He doesn't want to see her hurt herself even if she doesn't mean to. There's been enough of that. More than enough.

"No one could blame you for hating him, Rachel," Robin says softly, unsure of what else to say but feeling like he should say something. "And you shouldn't blame yourself for it either. I've never heard of anyone more deserving of hate than he apparently is." God, he hates the man, too. He hates him more than he hates his mother. So much more that the comparison seems weak and wrong.

He runs his fingers gently through her hair, watching her face, taking in every emotion and anything that's too difficult to put into words. His chest hurts. It feels like a dagger being sunk into it at the sight of her face but he's here. She's here. They're both here. Come what may. Robin presses a kiss against her lips. It's comforting and loving.

"It doesn't make you any less of a person.. for hating him. It doesn't."

[rattle_thecages]

Rachel hadn't really noticed she'd been digging her nails into her arms, and is surprised when he pulls her hands away but she lets him. She looks up abruptly, vulnerable and open and afraid, something she has always been able to afford in his presence. She hadn't expected him to say anything at all, only needed to release the words that had been eating at her inside.

He kisses her and her body leans to it, almost by its own volition, and Rachel is reminded of all the reasons why she can't give up. Rachel kisses him back, and it's loving and gentle.

It doesn't make you any less of a person.. for hating him. It doesn't.

"It could. If I'm not careful and I'll be so careful," Rachel whispers to him when they break away, lips still hovering above his. "Hate can destroy a person if they're left alone with it and I am just like everyone else." She knows how a person can take their disappointed ideals and compulsion for justice and turn it into something else entirely.

A crusade in the darkness.

"I don't want to stay trapped in the past, trapped in that room whenever something brings me back to it. But if seeing him did anything, it's remind me why I need to keep trying." Her eyes are bright when they look into his. There's sadness, and frustration, but there's also hope. Always hope. "I'm--I'm going to find my way into that DA's office, even if I have to crawl my way in. It's what I was meant to do. It's a part of me."

"And you're a part of me," she adds, drawing back so she can brush her knuckles down the side of his face. "I was supposed to be in Gotham, and I was supposed to die and instead I'm here. It's a new life and I want to live it. I want to live it with you."

[with_coffee]

Robin sees all of that in her expression. It makes him think of the first time he realized that she wasn't that way with everyone when he saw her at the trial and even now when they're with their family. There's a difference for both of them in their interaction with each other when they're alone. And he's so grateful that for whatever reason she's able to be vulnerable around him.

Even if she gave up, he'd be with her still, and he understand now that the only place he could ever be is with her. To do anything else would be a betrayal to himself, to how it's supposed to be.

He nods when she speaks understanding intimately the destructive power of hate and anger though he hardly thinks she's just like everyone else. A fond expression takes hold of him because of her strength, how he loves and admires it. What she went through is nothing that he could go through and come back out the other side even remotely resembling himself.

"I wouldn't say you're just like everyone else, but... you're right. You usually are," he says. "And you can overcome your own hatred. If anyone can, it's you."

The fond expression remains as he sees the hope in her eyes. The sadness and frustration hurts him for her sake because she tries harder than anyone else that he's ever known, and she is so strong. There's so much about her that takes his breath away.

"I'll help you in any way that I can to help you to do that," Robin says. "All of my resources are at your disposal. You belong there. If anyone in this city does, you do, and you will. I have faith in you and what you stand for. I do. It's been so long since I've had faith but I do."

He leans in to kiss her, again. You're a part of me.

"I don't know how someone who's supposed to live in another universe can be such an integral part of me but you are," Robin says quietly. "Whatever comes. I will be with you. I realize now that I can't do anything else, can't be anywhere else."

[rattle_thecages]

She wouldn't be able to give him the reason why it's all happened the way it did, why he was able to tell her what he was when she found him in that hallway, why she is able to sit in front of him right now, naked and bare.

And he understands, and reaches out despite his own hurting. Rachel knows he understands, probably better than maybe she herself realizes. He's let her peek into what goes on inside of him, what he fights every day of his life. It's part of the reason she believes he's strong even when he doesn't.

"No, you wouldn't say I'm like everyone else. But you have to admit you're a little bit biased at this point, Robin Rice." She finally smiles at his fond expression, feels it warm her to the tips of her toes. The rest of the day fades away, remains only a small pebble weighing on her heart. It will weigh on her for a very, very long time.

"Thank you. For being there, for your faith in me. You may not understand why it makes all the difference but it does," she says quietly, knowing it's unnecessary but needing to say it all the same. Her arms loop around his neck as her lips find purchase there as well.

I don't know how someone who's supposed to live in another universe can be such an integral part of me but you are.

"I don't think there is a clear answer for that one. I'm starting to realize love has its reasons but it doesn't need them. I'm never leaving you, you know. It's not an option anymore."

"... and I'm getting you wet," she says after a moment, with an almost bashful smile on her face as she draws back. "Sorry."

[with_coffee]

"Only a very little," Robin says softly indicating with his fingers how little he means even if they both know that he's obviously incredibly biased. Robin says that doesn't make the way he feels about her and her character any less true though. A smile tugs at his lips as well at the look of the one on hers. "I'm still able to retain objectivity."

No, he doesn't understand why something like that could make all the difference. It's hard at least to understand why it coming from him makes all the difference, but if he can understand that he loves her and he understands how much her love and faith means to him... it's easier. Something like understanding hits him and a warmth flows over him as well.

And it's not necessary to thank him for it but he understands that she needs to so he doesn't say anything in response as she wraps her arms around his neck. Robin presses a kiss against her lips with intensity and slips his hand behind her neck into her hair. He doesn't notice the water dripping from her.

"I'm starting to realize that love is something you can never understand. Only accept," Robin says. "I don't know how or why this has happened but it's meant to be, and I'm glad I'll never lose you." There are some things they can't control for like death but it seems as though not even that could destroy what's been made between them. It may be corny or silly or foolish to think of, but he believes it. He believes in so much now when before his heart was dark and cold and filled with only anger and resentment.

Robin smiles at what she says, slipping off his shoes, taking off the jacket of his suit, and sliding into the tub next to her. Obviously, he doesn't mind in the least. "I think it's very important to see if you're as ticklish under water as you are out of water. You understand, of course..." But when he reaches his arms toward her, it's to slip them around her and bring her close, not to tickle her. Not at the moment anyway.

[rattle_thecages]

"A very little," she repeats after him in an amused murmur, using her thumb to widen the gap between his fingers to prove his bias is a bit more than a little. White bubbles cling to her wrist along with the rest of her. The bathtub really is a good thinking spot, and there is little more relaxing than a bubble bath though she's finding it is much better with his company. As if that wasn't obvious.

Rachel wouldn't hold his lack of understanding against him, not with what she knows and what he's lived. With love comes patience and acceptance. Her mother would always say that if someone doesn't know something, it is impossible to simply tell them and expect them to really know. They have to learn it for themselves along the way. As impatient as she can be, as easily frustrated as she is when others do not agree with her or see things in her own unbending way, she can wait for him. Somewhere after all their trials and their stories, she knows he will. She'll still feel that way even if he never does.

I'm glad I'll never lose you. "You won't," she says with conviction. It would be a betrayal to her own heart. And no one can ever ask her to go against her beliefs and her own nature. She never would, no matter who did the asking. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, buddy."

Her eyes widen when he starts taking off his shoes, and they only get bigger when he peels off the suit's jacket. "What are you doing? Robin Rice, you--" Rachel cries out softly when slides into the tub beside her. She was ready to all but squirm her way out of his grasp when instead of tickling her he simply holds her. Rachel lets herself settle atop his chest, skin pressed to his crisp shirt.

There is no self-awareness, no. Just a smile, utterly serene and maybe a little wicked. She has gotten some of the white bubbles on his chin, and she uses the tips of her fingers to wipe them away. "You know my weak spots and I do not know yours. I don't think this is very fair. Careful, Robin, I will hide your coffee."

[with_coffee]

Robin laughs when she moves his fingers and doesn't deny it even if he still insists that his bias does not make what he says any less true. She's not ordinary. She's Rachel Dawes. If there were better words to describe her, he'd use them but they'd all fall short. If she'd mention that out loud, he'd insist that his presence makes everything better. Ahem.

He's starting to see things as she says them, at least he's found that she's right more often than she's not and certainly she's right more often than he is. Robin is glad that she's willing to wait for him even if it's going to take awhile for him to rewrite the way that he's been thinking for so long. He's willing to try and for so long he hadn't been willing to try, it means something.

I'm afraid you're stuck with me, buddy.

"Bloody hell," he mutters in a tone that sounds much more like wanting than like he's at all frustrated by this fact.

Robin doesn't respond when she asks what he's doing. He thinks it's fairly clear even if he never imagined in a million years that he'd sink into a bathtub full of water with clothes on. There are a lot of things that he thought he'd never do, thought he'd never feel. This world keeps proving him wrong. Time and time again.

It's hard to remember what it's like to be in such darkness, in such rage and despair in moments like this. Moments that are so warm and so happy that he didn't realize actually existed... do and erase away if only for now any possible darkness that could rest within him or exist around him.

"That's because I have no weak spots," Robin says which is a complete lie but because it registers as a joke in his head.. it doesn't cause him to wince. He leans in to her and kisses that serene and a little wicked smile on her face, pressing his lips to hers and slipping his hand up against her neck. "I can get more coffee. You're grasping at straws, Rachel Dawes."

[rattle_thecages]

"Bloody hell, bloody hell," Rachel mimics as best she can. She fails. "You British men and your bloody hells."

She has even heard Alfred Pennyworth say it at least once in his life, not that he'd been aware she was in the room. An angry Alfred is a sight to behold. The thought is quickly replaced by nothing at all when he kisses her again.

Only minutes ago she'd been battling lingering fears and regrets, encased inside a terrible memory, and now it is very difficult to remember what she'd been so upset about in the first place. It's placed aside for the moment, and other moments that will follow. It's nearly impossible to explain, how simple and complicated it all is with them sometimes. When she's able to keep the rest of the world at bay and they make a little world of their own, it's easy to remember why it's both in one.

She never thought, never dreamed, she could be like this with anyone, so he is not alone in that regard. She does not mind being wrong about that, as difficult as it is to admit when she's been wrong about other things. And she has been. There is much she's had to learn, and maybe those steps she took are the same steps that led her to him.

"Grasping at straws?" Rachel lifts a brow indignantly, her hand slipping underneath his shirt, nails scraping his back. No, he is not ticklish. "Are you so sure?"

[with_coffee]

Robin only laughs at her imitation. It's hilarious and cute, and yeah, it's pretty much a failed attempt at imitating a British accent, and he loves her for it... and for everything else. Obviously.

It's simple. It's complicated. Somehow it's both, and it's perfect and it's right. There's nothing in his life that's been more right than his relationship with her. And he will spend every day for the rest of his life (how ever long or short that is and for once he's not wishing for the latter) being grateful that he has it, that he has her.

He blows some of those white bubbles toward her with an amused smile that he's actually in a bathtub with his clothes on, lying next to a very naked, very gorgeous Rachel Dawes. It's honestly a dream come true.

"Grasping at straws and grasping at my... shirt," Robin says, locking his jaw to hold back his desire as well as he can (not very well at all). "I am made of steel. No weaknesses at all. Not grasping my shirt or that... that thing you're doing with my back." Scraping her nails with enough intensity to be highly pleasurable and run the heat of wanting through his veins? That thing, Robin?

[rattle_thecages]

For a minute, Rachel is content with just settling her chin on his shoulder blade and watching him as he laughs with a quiet smile on her face. He's beautiful. He is beautiful and she doesn't think she's been more in love with him than she is right there and then. She knows it can't always be like this. She doesn't expect it to, but God does it make the rest worth the while. Love isn't just laughter and lazy nights like this one.

Love is also holding on to him when he's going through a withdrawal. It's waking up late at night whenever he does when he can't be shaken from a nightmare, helping him find strength the days it deserts him. She'll do that, each and every time.

Rachel nods solemnly as he makes his argument, fingers working on the buttons of his shirt and lips trailing kisses along the jaw that he's so firmly locked. "Robin, how about we just stop talking now altogether?"

No one can ever say Rachel Dawes is not a take charge sort of woman.

[with_coffee]

Robin has so often reached the point of thinking that he could never love her more than he does at a given moment and then he finds that every day... every single day he loves her a little more. It's true that there's no cure for suppressing the rage of a vengeance angel when introduced to their trigger but the cure for all their bitterness, anger, and hurt... it's love. It's unconditional, unwavering love. This is happiness. A happiness that's so overwhelming that he's not even worried about when he will lose it. He's not thinking of the future or of the past. There's only this moment.

"As long as we both know that this isn't my weakness," Robin says in such a hoarse, hushed voice that it's impossible to believe him. He trembles under her touch. Right. "Talking is really rather overrated," he says after a moment, slipping in to kiss her on the lips with much more intensity this time, hand slipping into her wet hair, cradling the back of her head.

His free hand slips down her bare side and against her waist, pulling her to him in the water.

And everyone knows that Robin has been following after take charge women for most of his life. In one way or another.

[rattle_thecages]

Rachel grins, playfully biting his earlobe before answering. "I know no such thing."

Her lips brush his with each word and when he pulls her to him by the waist, the amusement shifts into something else, a low and almost tangible ache alighting her skin.
Even if she wanted to talk, she wouldn't be able to. Words are robbed from her and so is the long of her day and the mess they've made of the bathroom. There's only Rachel and Robin.

She feels his breath hot on her mouth and she chases it until she finds his own mouth in a slow and devastating burn. When her bare chest presses against his without the pesky fabric of his shirt to form a bridge between them, Rachel shivers into him. "Overrated," she breathes in agreement. "Unless there's an I love you."

There is a freedom that comes with this sort of intimacy, that comes with being able to rediscover this man time and again. It allows her to--

"And I love you." Rachel's hands cradle his face, her forehead resting on his.

[with_coffee]

The biting of his earlobe brings a sound from his mouth that he can't quite hold back. No, this is not at all his weakness. Pfft.

There's only Rachel and Robin and water, and he can honestly say he's never done anything like this before which is surprising since he's been with a lot of people over the years. This is new though. He always took such care of his clothes before and his appearance. Constantly. It was something to do, something else to focus on. He could care less at the moment.

His hand slips against the small of her back slipping up her spine, pressing in hard, deeply so she can feel it past the water. He presses his mouth against the part where her neck and her chin meet, lingering there for a moment, breathing heavily with desire.

"I love you," he whispers back to her, hand pressed against her neck, thumb gliding along her chin gently. "I love you."

It doesn't need repeating but he's not holding back and the words spill forward again and again. There's safety here, freedom, intimacy, shared breathing, shared want, so much shared that it should be terrifying but for some reason it's not. He can't find it in himself to be afraid that she's holding his heart in her hands and he has hers. So much could go wrong. He never trusted himself with anyone else's heart before, always afraid to that he'd drop it, let them down because he always did. But whe he does this time (IF he does), he'll pick that heart up again, fix it and try again.

[rattle_thecages]

I love you, he says, once and again until it becomes something like a prayer.

His nape is still curved by Rachel's greedy hands with which she urges him nearer, always nearer, kissing him for a very intimate while that feels like lazy hours, running her tongue across his lower lip, retreating and slinking back. The back of her legs scrape against his legs, hands traveling to the buckle of his pants, fingertips grazing the scruff of hair at his belly button. If this is how it's going to be every time she asks him if they can talk, Rachel is going to ask a lot more often.

Rachel thinks she whispers his name over and over into the ridge of his ear but she barely pays heed to it, her attention focused solely on the hazy desire entrapping her body whole. She ceases to be controller of her flesh. Her neck, her legs, the violence at her ribcage all take life of their own, moving and pleading against him without words. She wants to say this, this, it can't possibly be a weakness but she can't find the words.

Ragged breath doesn't seem as important as remaining in the moment with him, fusing her body to his and with absolutely no hesitation.

Her eyes are heavy-lidded when they finally meet his again. The long day is over, and the night has just begun.