fic: Remembering Priorities; Tim Drake/ Cissie King-Jones; Rish, Part 2/4
Title: Remembering Priorities
Author: Aravis Tarkheena
Pairing: Tim Drake/Cissie King-Jones
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, sex, angst
Disclaimer: Not mine, everyone's legal
Word Count: 10,000/~20,000
Author's Notes: Christmas fic for lady_sarai.
Summary: Cissie's traveling for the summer before she starts University. One night, she happens upon a familiar face in a dark alley way. Het, AU, Future Fic.
Index Post
Part 1
Part Two
The misty rain seemed to hang in the air more than it fell. Cissie felt the moisture thick in the air as she breathed slowly in and out. It made her hair frizz out from under the dark grey of her hood, despite the tie that pulled it back. While the material of her uniform was water resistant, the moisture made the fabric feel stiff and Cissie worried about how much it would restrict her when she needed move. She knew the fabric would stretch but the impulse to test its limits was almost unbearable as she sat and waited in the cold.
The muscles on Cissie’s thighs ached and stung as she crouched behind an air duct. While her legs were strong and her endurance was excellent no training in the world ever made this position comfortable. It made Cissie wonder, briefly, if the Bats really were metas whose power was that their bodies just didn’t produce any lactic acid. It wasn’t the first time Cissie seriously wished hers didn’t.
The clouds were thick and heavy the sky and while Cissie knew the moon should have risen hours ago, she couldn’t see it through the thick fog. The only light came from the street lamps below and even that was eerily muted by the mist that hung in the air. The scents of rain, sodden trash and wet cement clung to her, and stuck like an oily morass in the back of her throat. It was warm but the damp lent a chill to the late June air and Cissie was looking forward to heading back to her apartment and a hot shower.
She had designed her uniform with the summer heat in mind. It was meant to breathe not retain warmth so the chill was affecting her even more so than it would have been if she had just been wearing her track suit. The uniform was made up of a thin, dark grey material that let her blend in well with most of the shadowed buildings during the nighttime hours. It was neither too bright nor too dark so as to best blend in with the muted tones of the city streets.
It was vastly different from the one she had worn during her tenure in Young Justice. Her new one was plain, simple and covered almost all of her. Skin tight leggings clung to her quadriceps and calf muscles. Her jerkin was of a heavier material but stretchy enough that she could move freely, and had the reach she needed for her bow.
She had made her mask in the same style as her old one, but added a hood to her jerkin. While it didn’t help her peripheral vision much, it did serve to hide her hair and much more of her face. There were far too few blonde archers of her skill level in the world for her to be cavalier with her identity.
Her gloves were the same pair she always used when she practiced archery, tough and thick with excellent grips on the index and middle fingers of her right hand. She had a wrist guard that she hid under one sleeve and a knife stuck into her left boot. Just in case.
She had no body armor but then, she had no way to get any, either. She figured if she hung back and stayed out of the thick of things, she would be fine. While she hadn’t let her marital arts training go, it had been ages since she had been in a real fight and she was worried, slightly, that she would be more trouble than help to Tim if things came to hand to hand combat.
While she knew what she was doing, she had been out of the game long enough that Cissie preferred to be cautious. Especially since, lately it seemed, wearing a mask was synonymous to having a target painted in the middle of your back. It was the case much more so than it had been back when she was a member of Young Justice, at any rate. Or it felt that way to her, at least.
Following Tim, as she had been doing for the past two weeks, had done little to dispel that impression. From what she had seen from Tim’s activities, and she suspected she had seen a good deal less of them than she would have liked, things were getting rougher and rougher for the caped contingent.
It was, ultimately, why she was here, sitting on a roof in the rain, damp and shivering with cold as she waited.
There was, Cissie had discovered over the past few weeks, little that was more difficult than tracking a tracker. It was clear that Tim didn’t want to be found by anyone these days, not even within the community. That made both Cissie’s job both harder and easier. While she couldn’t just call Cassie and ask where Tim was, there were other options. If he was flying under the radar there were only so many places he go and only so many ways he could obtain the things he needed to live.
When she first set out to find him after that rather terrifying night outside the bar, she had tracked down some American ex-pats that were living in Valencia. She flirted and talked and ingratiated herself into their company long enough to figure out which of their green cards weren’t exactly on the up and up. Then she did her level best to find out where those particular persons lived.
In every city there were always a couple of land lords who looked the other way about things like that. Word about those particular land lords spread in the rights circles. It made tracking down the ex-pats and illegal immigrants that much easier.
As Tim was, no doubt, living under an assumed name with questionable credentials, he would probably be right there along with them.
Cissie had staked out a couple of the buildings and finally hit pay dirt on the fourth one. She had seen Tim leaving late in the afternoon one day, knapsack slung over one shoulder and his hair falling into his eyes.
It had been the first time she had gotten a good look at him in quite some time. The glimpse she had gotten in that alley had been brief, and the lighting had been exceptionally poor. She had known it was Tim more by the way he held himself and moved his body than by his features. Now that she could see him clearly in the light, she was taken aback.
Tim had always been thin, but it was more like the thin of a person who hadn’t filled out their last growth spurt than someone who didn’t have enough to eat. He was taller now, than the last time she had seen him, but he seemed almost gaunt. His face was far paler than it had ever been, as if all the color had been washed out of it. There were dark, heavy circles under his eyes that spoke loudly of too many sleepless nights.
His hair was too long, much too long. He had always worn it neat and short when they were younger. Now it long and lose around the collar of his shirt, curling slightly at the ends. It was clear he hadn’t had it trimmed in several months. While his jaw was free of stubble, Cissie suspected that fact had more to do with Tim’s facial hair having never been particularly thick or heavy.
While all of those things had alarmed her, it was his general demeanor that spoke to Cissie the most. He seemed weary. Not in the way that sleep would help, either. It was as if he was just tired of life in general or perhaps his in particular.
It scared her a little, because while Tim was never particularly well rested there had always been a bright, alert sort of light in his eyes. It was a light and brilliance that spoke of intelligence and excitement and an eagerness for a challenge.
That light seemed to be gone now, and Cissie was worried that Tim wouldn’t be able to do the things he had to do, and survive them, without that light. It seemed like a very essential part of him. Perhaps even a part he couldn’t afford to lose.
So she had decided to be that light for him. While he was not, perhaps, as able to take of himself as he had been, she was there now. She would watch his back. She would see to it that he got home every morning.
It wasn’t that she was coming out of retirement. It was more that she was moonlighting.
A bit.
She didn’t jump into every fight he got himself into. Just the ones that didn’t seem particularly stacked in his favor. Cissie had stepped in three times in the past two weeks, and each time it was only just to turn the tides back in Tim’s favor. Nothing major. A couple of well-placed arrows, and flower pot dropped from a great height. That was all.
It wasn’t like any of the situations looked particularly fatal, but while she was there she might as well keep him from any seriously bodily injury while she was at it.
As she watched now, Tim was lounging more or less comfortably underneath an awning that hung above a small bodega. The shop was closed at this hour, but a bar that was two buildings down hummed with muted activity. There was a sense of tension about the people that came in and out of the doors that suggested to Cissie that either something was going on inside or something was about to go on inside.
Tim clearly got the same impression, because he was clearly standing there, biding his time before slipping inside.
He was dressed somewhat ambiguously that evening. His disguise wasn’t even remotely elaborate. He wore jeans and a thread bare t-shirt with a track jacket hanging open over top. A scarf hung around his neck in the lose style favored by Europeans. His jeans were clean but had a hole in one thigh. His hair hung in his face, and served to hide his features much better than any sort of makeup ever could.
There was a deliberate sort of lassitude in the way he held himself. He had a lit cigarette in his hand, clearly his excuse for loitering outside the bar, but he never took a drag off of it. He just held it between two fingers, and watched the people milling in and out of the bar.
She wasn’t sure why he was here tonight, or even what he was looking for. She knew he was running down leads and making connections, but Cissie, not knowing what specifically he was working on, couldn’t make any sense of his activities. It didn’t really bother her much. While knowing what he was looking for would make finding him easier, now that she knew where he was staying, she wasn’t too concerned about losing his trail.
She was just moonlighting, after all. It wasn’t as if she was getting involved.
There was a vast difference between protecting one man and saving the world. She had no interest in saving the world anymore.
Tim was the only one she was interested in saving.
She knew that her feelings for him, back when they were younger, were somewhat shallow. She hadn’t known him as a person, not really. She had found, in later years, that there was a big difference between Tim Drake and Robin, and to know who Tim was as an individual, you really had to know both parts of him. As they grew older, they stayed in touch, at least superficially. With emails, phone calls and the occasional visit Cissie started to get a better understanding of who Tim was.
Tim was her friend. He was a friend who supported her decisions, and truly cared about whether or not she was happy. He made her feel warm and safe in ways that no other man she had ever met really could. Tim was willing to protect her both physical and emotional welfare, and he had proven he was quite adept at both things.
That was something special.
He had withdrawn after his father died, but a conversation with Cassie lead Cissie to believe that it wasn’t just her he was pulling away from. Cassie had told her that even Nightwing couldn’t seem to get through to him anymore, and while Cissie felt guilty about not being there for him, there was nothing she could do if he didn’t want her there.
So she waited, like she was waiting now.
That had been before, however.
There was a time to wait and a time to act. Now, Cissie was quite sure, was the time to act. While he very probably didn’t want her help, she was past caring. He needed her. That was something different. It was certainly something more important than what he wanted.
So Cissie decided she would be there for him whether he knew it or not, and whether he wanted it or not.
There was the sound of smashing glass. It was very loud.
The clouds that hung heavy over the city muffled much of the sound, and while she would normally be able to hear all the sounds of the city from miles around, none of the sound carried tonight. The street was silent, and even the people were speaking in hushed tones. It made the sound of the beer bottle breaking against the pavement even more dramatic.
Cissie looked over to see two men arguing about something very loudly in Spanish. The man who had thrown the bottle was waving his arms, face flushed and eyes bulging with fury. His companion was backing away from him slowly, his arms raised in a pacifying gesture.
While Cissie couldn’t quite make out what they were arguing about as they were both speaking very fast and using quite a bit of vernacular, she could make out the name of a woman very clearly. Cissie assumed it was that woman they were fighting over and nothing more sinister.
She dismissed them as a threat, and glanced back over to where Tim had been standing.
He was gone.
The awning under which he had stood was empty. His discarded cigarette glowed from where he had tossed it by the gutter in the street. The dull red light winked at her in what seemed like a silent rebuke and Cissie swore softly to herself.
She had only turned away for a moment, and he had vanished. She should have known better. She had no idea how she would pick up his trail for the night now. She would have to wait until he came back to his apartment in the morning. While it wasn’t hard to follow his Ducati around the city, the bike was hardly subtle, Tim was on foot tonight and he could have gone in any direction.
Cissie pursed her lips and scanned the street furiously; looking for the tell-tale set of Tim’s shoulders, or the easy loping gate he used to hide the fact that he was a trained martial artist. There was no sign of him anywhere on the street.
He wouldn’t have been able to get into the bar without her seeing him. No cars had passed that he could have slipped into. There were no alley ways on this particular stretch of street, all the buildings were attached to one another.
He had just vanished.
Cissie forced herself to breath steadily, and took a moment to consider her options.
That was when she heard it: the scuff of a boot on the rooftop behind her.
Cissie swallowed hard and set her shoulders. She dropped her bow to the ground and reached for the knife at her ankle, whirling around to face her attacker at the same moment. She hadn’t wanted to get into the thick of things but it seemed that choice had been made for her. She had to fight, now, if she wanted to live.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
His first thought probably shouldn’t have been that she looked gorgeous.
Her skin glowed with a damp sheen of rain and strands of her hair wetly framed her face. Her mouth was open as she came at him, and her lips looked soft and red and slick.
Tim felt himself go dizzy around the eyes, and he blamed his clumsy deflection of her attack on that. He stepped back away from her at an angle, and when her momentum made her fall past him, he gripped the wrist that held the knife and twisted it into a light lock. He brought her body in close to his, and told himself it was so that he could take her center and throw her off balance, not so that he could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his.
She dropped the knife when she realized who he was. The expression on her face shifted from fierce to warily defensive in the same moment.
Tim made himself release her before he did anything stupid.
Like kiss her wet lips.
He wondered, briefly, if she tasted like the rain.
Then he made himself stop wondering.
He watched her from under the fall of his bangs as she sized him up and tried to gage his mood. The question of his mood was a good one. He wasn’t sure what it was either. He was happy to see her. He was always happy to see her. But then there was…
She had been watching him for days. He had felt her that first night almost two weeks ago. He had known it was her arrow that saved him. He had felt it when she found his apartment. While he never quite caught sight of her, he knew it was her. He had figured she was worried about him, and a little curious. He figured she just wanted to see for herself that he was safe. She had always been good at giving him his space when he needed it, and he thought that this, the finding, the following, the watching, was just her reassuring herself while giving him the distance he needed.
Tonight he had gotten a better look at her.
The clothing she was wearing would have looked like a uniform, even if she hadn’t been masked and hooded. That changed everything.
“I thought you had retired,” he said flatly, gesturing towards her clothing.
Her mouth twisted wryly. “Yeah, I thought so, too.”
“You want to tell me why you’re here?” he prompted.
“Well, I was supposed to be on vacation…” she said with an elaborate drawl.
“And?” he asked tightly.
“I changed my plans,” she answered simply.
“Cissie,” he began with warning in his voice.
“I was worried about you,” she said suddenly, her voice was low and desperate, and while her hood kept her eyes in shadow, Tim knew exactly what they held. He’d seen the expression on her face a dozen times.
“Cissie,” he began patiently, “I’m-“
“Don’t tell me you’re fine,” she hissed at him, clearly furious. “I know you’re not. And that’s ok. You don’t have to be fine. No one would be, no one could be after all that. I just need to know that you’re safe.”
“I am-“ he began and she cut him off again.
“You’re not,” she insisted. “You have no back up. You haven’t spoken with anyone in months. When I found you, you were about to have your head caved in with a pipe. That’s not safe, Tim.”
Tim didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t think there was anything he could say. She was right. It hadn’t been wise for him to be out, tracking Ra’s men without back up from the caped community. He just couldn’t bring himself to acquire any. He just didn’t think he could be around another human being for long periods of time just yet.
He had found an alternative, however.
He shook his. “Cissie, I just need-“
“Space,” she finished for him. “I get it. I do. I understand what losing someone you love does to a person. I’ve been there, Tim. I needed space too. And were wonderful and you gave it to me. You gave it to me, but you made sure that I knew that you were there for me if I needed you.”
“You think I need you?” Tim asked flatly.
“I know you need me,” she answered firmly.
Tim shook his head again.
“Fine, if not me, then who? You need backup, at least,” she pointed out. She pulled off her hood in a furious gesture, and set about retying her pony tail with quick angry movements.
“I have back up,” he told her, defensively.
She raised her eyebrows at him, and looked around expansively.
“Oh and where might they be?” she asked him sweetly.
Tim pursed his lips.
“I’ve been working with Interpol as an informant. I found a couple of agents who aren’t too picky about who they work with so long as the intel is good. They’ve been keeping an eye on me,” he explained.
“They’re not here tonight,” she pointed out.
“No,” he agreed. “The lead here is thin. I wanted to do some more background digging on the location before I mentioned it to them.”
He had contacted the Interpol agents the morning after Cissie had come to his aid for the first time. Still exhausted, and with a voice rough and raspy from being throttled just a few hours before, they met in a coffee house and made a deal.
Tim hadn’t told the men who he was or why he was working through the drug ring. He had only stated that he was in a position to get information about what was potentially an international smuggling operation. He would gather data and collect evidence, if they could guarantee that the organization would be dismantled by the end of it.
While Tim could possibly take the drug smuggling operation out himself, he had a larger goal to consider, and didn’t have the time or the resources to devote to the task. His plan was to gather enough evidence against the drug ring’s major players here in Spain, so that the Interpol agents could flip those men in an effort to get the men in charge of the larger operation.
If Ra’s really was lining his pockets with the drug sales from this operation, it would behoove Tim to have it shut down. The less resources Ra’s had the harder it would be for him to regroup his people. The harder it was for Ra’s to regroup his people, the harder it would be for Ra’s to have him killed.
Which was, ultimately, the problem.
While Tim didn’t want Cissie to get back into the game at all, he wanted even less for her to get back into the game by following him around while pissed off ninjas tried their level best to kill him.
Cissie was shaking her head at him.
“Even if it is something small, you shouldn’t be going in alone. Even Oracle doesn’t know where you are.”
“She does know,” he told her with some certainty. “I think she just isn’t sharing the information.”
They thought about that for moment. Cissie looked like she felt a little betrayed. Tim just felt tired.
“They call you my Avenging Archer, you know?” he said suddenly.
She looked up at him sharply.
“The agents I work with, I mean,” he clarified. “They call you my Avenging Archer.”
Cissie smiled at that.
“It sounds like I should be in a King Arthur story, or maybe an old Western,” she said with amusement heavy in her tone.
“They’ve seen you, you know. They have no pictures and they didn’t get a great look but if you hang around it’s only a matter of time before they do,” he said to her.
She looked thoughtful and a little worried. She knew her skills were distinctive. She also clearly didn’t want to be identified.
“I think it’s best if you stop, Cissie. There was reason you quit,” he said to her softly, trying to reason with her.
She looked up at him sharply at that, green eyes blazing at him even in the dark.
“I lost what I wanted to protect,” she told him, her voice tight and a little rough, “that’s why I quit. I got so bogged down in the rage and the anger and the injustice of her death that I forgot that the real reason we do what we do is to protect people.”
Tim didn’t have anything to say to that. He just swallowed hard as a wave of empathy and remembered grief washed over him.
“I lost what I wanted to protect, so I lost focus and I quit,” she said finally. “But you’re different. You lost the things you wanted to protect but you kept going.”
“That’s because I have nothing left but this,” he pointed out to her, bitterly.
“No, it’s because you believe in the value of other people’s happiness. Even if you don’t believe in your own,” she told him quietly. “My happiness meant enough to you that you never judged me for leaving, never resented me, and didn’t leave me behind.”
Tim swallowed hard and looked away from Cissie, his stomach suddenly roiling. He was terrified of what she was going to say next. Of what it would mean for her and her future.
What it would mean for him.
“Tim,” she said softly and stepped forward. She reached out a hand and clasped his arm. She tilted her hear until their eyes met and spoke softly. “I have something I want to protect again.”
Tim felt his face go hot and he had to quash a sudden rush of panic.
“No,” he said and his voice sounded harsh and choked, even to his own ears. “No,” he repeated firmly. “What I’m mixed up in, the things I’m working on, it’s too dangerous.”
“I know how dangerous thing can get, Tim. I’ve been there before,” Cissie insisted.
Tim just shook his head. “Not like this. You were never involved in anything, like this.”
“Tim-“ she began, but Tim lifted an arm and made a dismissive gesture, cutting her off.
“Stop,” he commanded. “Stop now. No more following me. No more watching me. No more Avenging Arrow. It has to stop.”
“And if I say no?” she asked defiantly.
He leaned in close and tried to look menacing. “Then I’ll make you stop.”
She was standing there, silent and fuming, when he left. He could feel her watching him, her green eyes felt like hot irons on his back.
Tim didn’t turn or look back. She needed to know he meant it. She needed to know he was serious. She needed to stop.
Before he got her killed, too.
Part Three: In which Cissie saves the day, and Tim gets a phone call.
Author: Aravis Tarkheena
Pairing: Tim Drake/Cissie King-Jones
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, sex, angst
Disclaimer: Not mine, everyone's legal
Word Count: 10,000/~20,000
Author's Notes: Christmas fic for lady_sarai.
Summary: Cissie's traveling for the summer before she starts University. One night, she happens upon a familiar face in a dark alley way. Het, AU, Future Fic.
Index Post
Part 1
Part Two
The misty rain seemed to hang in the air more than it fell. Cissie felt the moisture thick in the air as she breathed slowly in and out. It made her hair frizz out from under the dark grey of her hood, despite the tie that pulled it back. While the material of her uniform was water resistant, the moisture made the fabric feel stiff and Cissie worried about how much it would restrict her when she needed move. She knew the fabric would stretch but the impulse to test its limits was almost unbearable as she sat and waited in the cold.
The muscles on Cissie’s thighs ached and stung as she crouched behind an air duct. While her legs were strong and her endurance was excellent no training in the world ever made this position comfortable. It made Cissie wonder, briefly, if the Bats really were metas whose power was that their bodies just didn’t produce any lactic acid. It wasn’t the first time Cissie seriously wished hers didn’t.
The clouds were thick and heavy the sky and while Cissie knew the moon should have risen hours ago, she couldn’t see it through the thick fog. The only light came from the street lamps below and even that was eerily muted by the mist that hung in the air. The scents of rain, sodden trash and wet cement clung to her, and stuck like an oily morass in the back of her throat. It was warm but the damp lent a chill to the late June air and Cissie was looking forward to heading back to her apartment and a hot shower.
She had designed her uniform with the summer heat in mind. It was meant to breathe not retain warmth so the chill was affecting her even more so than it would have been if she had just been wearing her track suit. The uniform was made up of a thin, dark grey material that let her blend in well with most of the shadowed buildings during the nighttime hours. It was neither too bright nor too dark so as to best blend in with the muted tones of the city streets.
It was vastly different from the one she had worn during her tenure in Young Justice. Her new one was plain, simple and covered almost all of her. Skin tight leggings clung to her quadriceps and calf muscles. Her jerkin was of a heavier material but stretchy enough that she could move freely, and had the reach she needed for her bow.
She had made her mask in the same style as her old one, but added a hood to her jerkin. While it didn’t help her peripheral vision much, it did serve to hide her hair and much more of her face. There were far too few blonde archers of her skill level in the world for her to be cavalier with her identity.
Her gloves were the same pair she always used when she practiced archery, tough and thick with excellent grips on the index and middle fingers of her right hand. She had a wrist guard that she hid under one sleeve and a knife stuck into her left boot. Just in case.
She had no body armor but then, she had no way to get any, either. She figured if she hung back and stayed out of the thick of things, she would be fine. While she hadn’t let her marital arts training go, it had been ages since she had been in a real fight and she was worried, slightly, that she would be more trouble than help to Tim if things came to hand to hand combat.
While she knew what she was doing, she had been out of the game long enough that Cissie preferred to be cautious. Especially since, lately it seemed, wearing a mask was synonymous to having a target painted in the middle of your back. It was the case much more so than it had been back when she was a member of Young Justice, at any rate. Or it felt that way to her, at least.
Following Tim, as she had been doing for the past two weeks, had done little to dispel that impression. From what she had seen from Tim’s activities, and she suspected she had seen a good deal less of them than she would have liked, things were getting rougher and rougher for the caped contingent.
It was, ultimately, why she was here, sitting on a roof in the rain, damp and shivering with cold as she waited.
There was, Cissie had discovered over the past few weeks, little that was more difficult than tracking a tracker. It was clear that Tim didn’t want to be found by anyone these days, not even within the community. That made both Cissie’s job both harder and easier. While she couldn’t just call Cassie and ask where Tim was, there were other options. If he was flying under the radar there were only so many places he go and only so many ways he could obtain the things he needed to live.
When she first set out to find him after that rather terrifying night outside the bar, she had tracked down some American ex-pats that were living in Valencia. She flirted and talked and ingratiated herself into their company long enough to figure out which of their green cards weren’t exactly on the up and up. Then she did her level best to find out where those particular persons lived.
In every city there were always a couple of land lords who looked the other way about things like that. Word about those particular land lords spread in the rights circles. It made tracking down the ex-pats and illegal immigrants that much easier.
As Tim was, no doubt, living under an assumed name with questionable credentials, he would probably be right there along with them.
Cissie had staked out a couple of the buildings and finally hit pay dirt on the fourth one. She had seen Tim leaving late in the afternoon one day, knapsack slung over one shoulder and his hair falling into his eyes.
It had been the first time she had gotten a good look at him in quite some time. The glimpse she had gotten in that alley had been brief, and the lighting had been exceptionally poor. She had known it was Tim more by the way he held himself and moved his body than by his features. Now that she could see him clearly in the light, she was taken aback.
Tim had always been thin, but it was more like the thin of a person who hadn’t filled out their last growth spurt than someone who didn’t have enough to eat. He was taller now, than the last time she had seen him, but he seemed almost gaunt. His face was far paler than it had ever been, as if all the color had been washed out of it. There were dark, heavy circles under his eyes that spoke loudly of too many sleepless nights.
His hair was too long, much too long. He had always worn it neat and short when they were younger. Now it long and lose around the collar of his shirt, curling slightly at the ends. It was clear he hadn’t had it trimmed in several months. While his jaw was free of stubble, Cissie suspected that fact had more to do with Tim’s facial hair having never been particularly thick or heavy.
While all of those things had alarmed her, it was his general demeanor that spoke to Cissie the most. He seemed weary. Not in the way that sleep would help, either. It was as if he was just tired of life in general or perhaps his in particular.
It scared her a little, because while Tim was never particularly well rested there had always been a bright, alert sort of light in his eyes. It was a light and brilliance that spoke of intelligence and excitement and an eagerness for a challenge.
That light seemed to be gone now, and Cissie was worried that Tim wouldn’t be able to do the things he had to do, and survive them, without that light. It seemed like a very essential part of him. Perhaps even a part he couldn’t afford to lose.
So she had decided to be that light for him. While he was not, perhaps, as able to take of himself as he had been, she was there now. She would watch his back. She would see to it that he got home every morning.
It wasn’t that she was coming out of retirement. It was more that she was moonlighting.
A bit.
She didn’t jump into every fight he got himself into. Just the ones that didn’t seem particularly stacked in his favor. Cissie had stepped in three times in the past two weeks, and each time it was only just to turn the tides back in Tim’s favor. Nothing major. A couple of well-placed arrows, and flower pot dropped from a great height. That was all.
It wasn’t like any of the situations looked particularly fatal, but while she was there she might as well keep him from any seriously bodily injury while she was at it.
As she watched now, Tim was lounging more or less comfortably underneath an awning that hung above a small bodega. The shop was closed at this hour, but a bar that was two buildings down hummed with muted activity. There was a sense of tension about the people that came in and out of the doors that suggested to Cissie that either something was going on inside or something was about to go on inside.
Tim clearly got the same impression, because he was clearly standing there, biding his time before slipping inside.
He was dressed somewhat ambiguously that evening. His disguise wasn’t even remotely elaborate. He wore jeans and a thread bare t-shirt with a track jacket hanging open over top. A scarf hung around his neck in the lose style favored by Europeans. His jeans were clean but had a hole in one thigh. His hair hung in his face, and served to hide his features much better than any sort of makeup ever could.
There was a deliberate sort of lassitude in the way he held himself. He had a lit cigarette in his hand, clearly his excuse for loitering outside the bar, but he never took a drag off of it. He just held it between two fingers, and watched the people milling in and out of the bar.
She wasn’t sure why he was here tonight, or even what he was looking for. She knew he was running down leads and making connections, but Cissie, not knowing what specifically he was working on, couldn’t make any sense of his activities. It didn’t really bother her much. While knowing what he was looking for would make finding him easier, now that she knew where he was staying, she wasn’t too concerned about losing his trail.
She was just moonlighting, after all. It wasn’t as if she was getting involved.
There was a vast difference between protecting one man and saving the world. She had no interest in saving the world anymore.
Tim was the only one she was interested in saving.
She knew that her feelings for him, back when they were younger, were somewhat shallow. She hadn’t known him as a person, not really. She had found, in later years, that there was a big difference between Tim Drake and Robin, and to know who Tim was as an individual, you really had to know both parts of him. As they grew older, they stayed in touch, at least superficially. With emails, phone calls and the occasional visit Cissie started to get a better understanding of who Tim was.
Tim was her friend. He was a friend who supported her decisions, and truly cared about whether or not she was happy. He made her feel warm and safe in ways that no other man she had ever met really could. Tim was willing to protect her both physical and emotional welfare, and he had proven he was quite adept at both things.
That was something special.
He had withdrawn after his father died, but a conversation with Cassie lead Cissie to believe that it wasn’t just her he was pulling away from. Cassie had told her that even Nightwing couldn’t seem to get through to him anymore, and while Cissie felt guilty about not being there for him, there was nothing she could do if he didn’t want her there.
So she waited, like she was waiting now.
That had been before, however.
There was a time to wait and a time to act. Now, Cissie was quite sure, was the time to act. While he very probably didn’t want her help, she was past caring. He needed her. That was something different. It was certainly something more important than what he wanted.
So Cissie decided she would be there for him whether he knew it or not, and whether he wanted it or not.
There was the sound of smashing glass. It was very loud.
The clouds that hung heavy over the city muffled much of the sound, and while she would normally be able to hear all the sounds of the city from miles around, none of the sound carried tonight. The street was silent, and even the people were speaking in hushed tones. It made the sound of the beer bottle breaking against the pavement even more dramatic.
Cissie looked over to see two men arguing about something very loudly in Spanish. The man who had thrown the bottle was waving his arms, face flushed and eyes bulging with fury. His companion was backing away from him slowly, his arms raised in a pacifying gesture.
While Cissie couldn’t quite make out what they were arguing about as they were both speaking very fast and using quite a bit of vernacular, she could make out the name of a woman very clearly. Cissie assumed it was that woman they were fighting over and nothing more sinister.
She dismissed them as a threat, and glanced back over to where Tim had been standing.
He was gone.
The awning under which he had stood was empty. His discarded cigarette glowed from where he had tossed it by the gutter in the street. The dull red light winked at her in what seemed like a silent rebuke and Cissie swore softly to herself.
She had only turned away for a moment, and he had vanished. She should have known better. She had no idea how she would pick up his trail for the night now. She would have to wait until he came back to his apartment in the morning. While it wasn’t hard to follow his Ducati around the city, the bike was hardly subtle, Tim was on foot tonight and he could have gone in any direction.
Cissie pursed her lips and scanned the street furiously; looking for the tell-tale set of Tim’s shoulders, or the easy loping gate he used to hide the fact that he was a trained martial artist. There was no sign of him anywhere on the street.
He wouldn’t have been able to get into the bar without her seeing him. No cars had passed that he could have slipped into. There were no alley ways on this particular stretch of street, all the buildings were attached to one another.
He had just vanished.
Cissie forced herself to breath steadily, and took a moment to consider her options.
That was when she heard it: the scuff of a boot on the rooftop behind her.
Cissie swallowed hard and set her shoulders. She dropped her bow to the ground and reached for the knife at her ankle, whirling around to face her attacker at the same moment. She hadn’t wanted to get into the thick of things but it seemed that choice had been made for her. She had to fight, now, if she wanted to live.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
His first thought probably shouldn’t have been that she looked gorgeous.
Her skin glowed with a damp sheen of rain and strands of her hair wetly framed her face. Her mouth was open as she came at him, and her lips looked soft and red and slick.
Tim felt himself go dizzy around the eyes, and he blamed his clumsy deflection of her attack on that. He stepped back away from her at an angle, and when her momentum made her fall past him, he gripped the wrist that held the knife and twisted it into a light lock. He brought her body in close to his, and told himself it was so that he could take her center and throw her off balance, not so that he could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his.
She dropped the knife when she realized who he was. The expression on her face shifted from fierce to warily defensive in the same moment.
Tim made himself release her before he did anything stupid.
Like kiss her wet lips.
He wondered, briefly, if she tasted like the rain.
Then he made himself stop wondering.
He watched her from under the fall of his bangs as she sized him up and tried to gage his mood. The question of his mood was a good one. He wasn’t sure what it was either. He was happy to see her. He was always happy to see her. But then there was…
She had been watching him for days. He had felt her that first night almost two weeks ago. He had known it was her arrow that saved him. He had felt it when she found his apartment. While he never quite caught sight of her, he knew it was her. He had figured she was worried about him, and a little curious. He figured she just wanted to see for herself that he was safe. She had always been good at giving him his space when he needed it, and he thought that this, the finding, the following, the watching, was just her reassuring herself while giving him the distance he needed.
Tonight he had gotten a better look at her.
The clothing she was wearing would have looked like a uniform, even if she hadn’t been masked and hooded. That changed everything.
“I thought you had retired,” he said flatly, gesturing towards her clothing.
Her mouth twisted wryly. “Yeah, I thought so, too.”
“You want to tell me why you’re here?” he prompted.
“Well, I was supposed to be on vacation…” she said with an elaborate drawl.
“And?” he asked tightly.
“I changed my plans,” she answered simply.
“Cissie,” he began with warning in his voice.
“I was worried about you,” she said suddenly, her voice was low and desperate, and while her hood kept her eyes in shadow, Tim knew exactly what they held. He’d seen the expression on her face a dozen times.
“Cissie,” he began patiently, “I’m-“
“Don’t tell me you’re fine,” she hissed at him, clearly furious. “I know you’re not. And that’s ok. You don’t have to be fine. No one would be, no one could be after all that. I just need to know that you’re safe.”
“I am-“ he began and she cut him off again.
“You’re not,” she insisted. “You have no back up. You haven’t spoken with anyone in months. When I found you, you were about to have your head caved in with a pipe. That’s not safe, Tim.”
Tim didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t think there was anything he could say. She was right. It hadn’t been wise for him to be out, tracking Ra’s men without back up from the caped community. He just couldn’t bring himself to acquire any. He just didn’t think he could be around another human being for long periods of time just yet.
He had found an alternative, however.
He shook his. “Cissie, I just need-“
“Space,” she finished for him. “I get it. I do. I understand what losing someone you love does to a person. I’ve been there, Tim. I needed space too. And were wonderful and you gave it to me. You gave it to me, but you made sure that I knew that you were there for me if I needed you.”
“You think I need you?” Tim asked flatly.
“I know you need me,” she answered firmly.
Tim shook his head again.
“Fine, if not me, then who? You need backup, at least,” she pointed out. She pulled off her hood in a furious gesture, and set about retying her pony tail with quick angry movements.
“I have back up,” he told her, defensively.
She raised her eyebrows at him, and looked around expansively.
“Oh and where might they be?” she asked him sweetly.
Tim pursed his lips.
“I’ve been working with Interpol as an informant. I found a couple of agents who aren’t too picky about who they work with so long as the intel is good. They’ve been keeping an eye on me,” he explained.
“They’re not here tonight,” she pointed out.
“No,” he agreed. “The lead here is thin. I wanted to do some more background digging on the location before I mentioned it to them.”
He had contacted the Interpol agents the morning after Cissie had come to his aid for the first time. Still exhausted, and with a voice rough and raspy from being throttled just a few hours before, they met in a coffee house and made a deal.
Tim hadn’t told the men who he was or why he was working through the drug ring. He had only stated that he was in a position to get information about what was potentially an international smuggling operation. He would gather data and collect evidence, if they could guarantee that the organization would be dismantled by the end of it.
While Tim could possibly take the drug smuggling operation out himself, he had a larger goal to consider, and didn’t have the time or the resources to devote to the task. His plan was to gather enough evidence against the drug ring’s major players here in Spain, so that the Interpol agents could flip those men in an effort to get the men in charge of the larger operation.
If Ra’s really was lining his pockets with the drug sales from this operation, it would behoove Tim to have it shut down. The less resources Ra’s had the harder it would be for him to regroup his people. The harder it was for Ra’s to regroup his people, the harder it would be for Ra’s to have him killed.
Which was, ultimately, the problem.
While Tim didn’t want Cissie to get back into the game at all, he wanted even less for her to get back into the game by following him around while pissed off ninjas tried their level best to kill him.
Cissie was shaking her head at him.
“Even if it is something small, you shouldn’t be going in alone. Even Oracle doesn’t know where you are.”
“She does know,” he told her with some certainty. “I think she just isn’t sharing the information.”
They thought about that for moment. Cissie looked like she felt a little betrayed. Tim just felt tired.
“They call you my Avenging Archer, you know?” he said suddenly.
She looked up at him sharply.
“The agents I work with, I mean,” he clarified. “They call you my Avenging Archer.”
Cissie smiled at that.
“It sounds like I should be in a King Arthur story, or maybe an old Western,” she said with amusement heavy in her tone.
“They’ve seen you, you know. They have no pictures and they didn’t get a great look but if you hang around it’s only a matter of time before they do,” he said to her.
She looked thoughtful and a little worried. She knew her skills were distinctive. She also clearly didn’t want to be identified.
“I think it’s best if you stop, Cissie. There was reason you quit,” he said to her softly, trying to reason with her.
She looked up at him sharply at that, green eyes blazing at him even in the dark.
“I lost what I wanted to protect,” she told him, her voice tight and a little rough, “that’s why I quit. I got so bogged down in the rage and the anger and the injustice of her death that I forgot that the real reason we do what we do is to protect people.”
Tim didn’t have anything to say to that. He just swallowed hard as a wave of empathy and remembered grief washed over him.
“I lost what I wanted to protect, so I lost focus and I quit,” she said finally. “But you’re different. You lost the things you wanted to protect but you kept going.”
“That’s because I have nothing left but this,” he pointed out to her, bitterly.
“No, it’s because you believe in the value of other people’s happiness. Even if you don’t believe in your own,” she told him quietly. “My happiness meant enough to you that you never judged me for leaving, never resented me, and didn’t leave me behind.”
Tim swallowed hard and looked away from Cissie, his stomach suddenly roiling. He was terrified of what she was going to say next. Of what it would mean for her and her future.
What it would mean for him.
“Tim,” she said softly and stepped forward. She reached out a hand and clasped his arm. She tilted her hear until their eyes met and spoke softly. “I have something I want to protect again.”
Tim felt his face go hot and he had to quash a sudden rush of panic.
“No,” he said and his voice sounded harsh and choked, even to his own ears. “No,” he repeated firmly. “What I’m mixed up in, the things I’m working on, it’s too dangerous.”
“I know how dangerous thing can get, Tim. I’ve been there before,” Cissie insisted.
Tim just shook his head. “Not like this. You were never involved in anything, like this.”
“Tim-“ she began, but Tim lifted an arm and made a dismissive gesture, cutting her off.
“Stop,” he commanded. “Stop now. No more following me. No more watching me. No more Avenging Arrow. It has to stop.”
“And if I say no?” she asked defiantly.
He leaned in close and tried to look menacing. “Then I’ll make you stop.”
She was standing there, silent and fuming, when he left. He could feel her watching him, her green eyes felt like hot irons on his back.
Tim didn’t turn or look back. She needed to know he meant it. She needed to know he was serious. She needed to stop.
Before he got her killed, too.
Part Three: In which Cissie saves the day, and Tim gets a phone call.