Fic Amnesty, Part the First: Dead Like Me/DCU

Mar 29, 2009 21:01

Srsly, all the things I will be posting for the next few days are unfinished, bits and baubles, never to be finished. I feel like putting them in here anyway.

Title: [untitled]
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Characters: George, Rube, Batcast
Warnings: character death
Author's Notes: UNFINISHED. WILL NEVER BE FINISHED.
Summary: George and Rube get a VIP pass to Gotham.



When you're a kid, pretending and having imaginary friends is par for the course. Every kid wants to be Superman or Bat Woman or whoever, as long as they get to wear a cape and tie up bad guys. No one ever seems to think it's odd that a bunch of people are running around pretending to be able to see through bathroom doors or jump off buildings.

[...]

"I'm just wondering why there are people out there who feel the need to dress in tights and do anything," George mumbled into the window.

"There are lots of things that people do with no seeming explanation to the outside word, Peanut," Rube said cheerfully, steering the truck with two fingers, one harm hanging over the outside edge of the truck door.

[...AND ALSO THE TENSE CHANGES. BZUH?]

"That's…unfortunate," Batman says to her as he looks at his body.

"Batman?" Robin says, edging closer to the body. George shoves her hands in her pockets. Beside her Bruce stiffens.

"He shouldn't see this," he says softly.

Batman cocks his head a little, as if he is listening for something specific. George doesn't hear anything. Well, except for the sobbing.

Robin's body seems to elongate in the dark, as if he is standing up taller than he is even capable. "We have to take the body, Dick," he says quietly. Nightwing's shoulders shake but his head stays buried in Batman's shoulder and cape. "We have to cover it up, or we're all blown, and Batman is over."

George glances over at Batman. He looks pretty over to her.

"Batman is over, Tim."

Robin doesn't wait a beat before he pulls a remote from his belt and punches a bunch of numbers into it. "You know that can't happen. The car is on its way. We, you'll have to tell Alfred."

George likes Robin; he has pretty lips, and bright fashion disaster costume aside, he seems pretty capable. Nightwing is kind of hot, but right now not so much, what with the sobbing and all. He is not a pretty crier. George has the expertise to make that aesthetic judgement.

"They're ready," Bruce says, and he reaches up to pull the cowl back from his face.

"Batsy!" called a shrill voice behind them. Batman's whole body tenses, does something as he turns, and George turns with him, because she had forgotten about that one. Rube is hanging back because really, does anyone want that thing near them?

The Joker's face is smiling, which, as George figures, pretty obvious, but it isn't until you see him up close that you can tell the difference between a smile and well, him.

"You look awfully familiar, now that we're finally here at the end," the Joker says, tapping his chin with his hand. Batman's arms are down at his sides, but to George he looks like a weapon. "We've met before, haven't we?"

George does something she never thought she'd do this time, reaching out a hand to touch Batman's shoulder. He's fucking tall, though, and she wishes she'd worn bigger heels. It was petty, but true. "He's pretty harmless here."

"He was never harmless." Batman says to her. His chin is set, and though George knows that the two of them have a history, she gets the feeling that there's lots of it that wasn't available for public consumption.

"Who are you calling harmless?" The Joker says to her, and grins wildly. "Wait a minute, are you his grim reaper?" He gestures wildly back at Rube, who is trying his best to look like he's lighting up a pipe in a back alley. Innocent and harmless. "I get the Newsie and you get the cute one? How priceless is that?"

At least he thinks she's the cute one.

[JOKER RECOGNIZES BRUCE WAYNE. GRAVELINGS COME FOR JOKER -something else. Something the gravelings are scared of. BRUCE RECOGNIZES RUBE AS THE MAN WHO REAPED HIS FATHER.]

"I feel kind of dirty," George whispers after the light has faded. It's no joke, and it's literal as well as figurative; he's covered in alley filth, and the sound of grown men crying makes something tight in her chest.

"I'm not gonna disagree with you there," Rube says, pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and offering it to her before using it to wipe the grime from his face and hands. "I don't envy the people who have to do these jobs all the time." He kicks a can. "Superheroes should have their own personal reaper."

George wraps her hands around her upper arms and hugs tightly.

[DAS DA END.]

amnesty fic, dc comics, writing fanfic, dead like me

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