CHAPTER 11
BAD BREAKUP

THERE'S a kind of simplicity to falling asleep to someone's heartbeat. The feeling of their chest rising and falling against your head, combined with the steady beat of their heart – it was an ASMR lover's dream.

Iris wasn't sure how she ended up in that position, but somehow, her body rolled around enough during the night and her head collided with someone's chest. It was a soft clash, though – a mere bump that neither of them noticed as their tired bodies tangled with each other on the California King. Iris snored softly, listening to the rhythm of the person's heart beneath her ear. It was magnetic; it was hypnotizing. She was back asleep in just a few minutes.

But when she woke up, she noticed the heartbeat was gone, and she was left in the California King bed while the birds chirped loudly for the incoming morning. Iris was used to disappointment like this.

Rubbing underneath her nose, Iris sat up and uncurled herself from the warm comforter. She had been laying in the middle of the mattress, settled beneath the sheets, when the sound of a coffee machine awoke her. The scent of crushed coffee beans called out to her, making it very easy to slide herself out of bed. She fidgeted with the collar of her sweater before realizing she got major wrinkles in her dress pants during the night. (She had always been kind of a rough sleeper.)

Iris unlocked her phone on the bedside table. It was Saturday. Thank God, she didn't have to worry about going into work like this.

She padded softly down the long corridor to the kitchen, where she found Dick struggling to scramble a few eggs. He kept turning the dials up and down on his stove, even jumping back when the pan started to produce smoke. Iris hung by the doorframe, almost hidden by the large refrigerator, and laughed quietly to herself. Dick Grayson had good hearing, though, and suddenly whirled around at the sound of her chuckle.

"I – uh –" He sprinted over to the coffee machine and poured some of the hot liquid into an empty mug. "I made coffee."

"I know," she emphasized, taking the cup gratefully. "It woke me up."

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, I really hate this thing. This is why I go Jillian's every day for coffee."

Iris held up a hand and placed herself on top of one of the stools at the kitchen island. "Don't worry about it. I overslept anyways."

"Oh," he smiled, turning back to the steaming eggs, "then, you're welcome."

She rolled her eyes while taking a large gulp from the mug. Immediately, she felt her whole body buzz with life, and Iris wondered if there would ever be a day when coffee wouldn't have that magical effect on her. (She hoped not.) Setting the cup onto the marble island, Iris narrowed her eyes, practically gawking at the tight t-shirt that Dick was still wearing from the night before. As he fought with the scrambled eggs in the pan, Iris allowed her eyes to wander down his frame, noticing the way his plaid pants hugged his butt just right. She almost choked on her coffee as she questioned if he wore those all night or slept without –

Oh, my God, shut up! Her conscious scoffed at the carnal thoughts running through her brain. Are you really thinking about if your coworker sleeps naked? Aren't there more important things to focus on?

Hey, listen, she fought back, I'm in a shit place right now and I need a distraction. I may hate him most of the time, but I can admit that he's eye candy. And also annoying. More annoying than the eye candy part.

"How do you like your eggs?" Dick asked.

Iris pressed her teeth against the rim of her mug, admiring his backside like it was some goddamn Renaissance painting. God, she needed to get a life.

"Uh – Iris?"

She blinked rapidly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Huh?"

"I asked how you like your eggs."

"I don't like eggs."

Dick looked down at the pan in his tight grip and shut the burner off. "Well, metaphorically, if you liked eggs ... would you like them scrambled?"

She frowned. "I don't know about that –"

"I think you should eat these scrambled eggs," he said, scooping the dish onto a plate and placing it in front of her. She recoiled her lip back in disgust. "Hey, I know you didn't have dinner last night. You should eat now."

He had a point. Despite the sudden churning in her stomach, Iris stabbed her fork into the eggs and stuffed them into her mouth. She had never been too fond of the texture of scrambled eggs, but these weren't that bad. A little burnt, but not bad.

"Good?" He asked, and she lifted two thumbs. Dick laughed at the smile she forced upon her lips. "Great."

"Don't you think we have more important things to discuss than my stance on scrambled eggs?"

Dick arched a brow.

"You said last night you would tell me about being Robin," she clarified. "Unless ... you're one of those cosplayers that dress up like him for fun. But you seemed to be taking the art of costuming a bit too seriously last night."

"It's not cosplay," he huffed, leaning against the refrigerator, "and I'm not Robin."

Iris tilted her head to the side.

"Okay, I was Robin, but I'm not anymore."

"So you're not Robin, but you still wear the outfit?"

"Listen, it's really complicated, Iris, and I don't think this is the time –"

She set down her coffee. "If it's so complicated, then fucking explain it to me!"

He looked away. Iris noticed the quick rise and fall of his chest. His jaw clenched, but he held it all in, afraid to throw a similar outburst towards her.

"You gotta understand that ..." He shook his head. "When I decided to become Robin, I used it as a way out. My parents died when I was young, and I was desperate to find out answers. I knew it was murder, but the police thought otherwise. Batman took me in as his own, and although I hated every minute of living in that house, him offering me the role of Robin was the only way for me to get answers."

"So, wait," Iris pressed a finger down on the marble table, "Batman adopted you after your parents died?"

Dick nodded. "I really didn't have much of a choice. It was either him or back to an orphanage. I wasn't about to become one of those kids bouncing from place to place."

"What about your parents' death?" She questioned further. "Did becoming Robin at least help you find their killer?"

"Um –" He rubbed the back of his neck, reverting his stare away from her. Iris leaned forward and lifted a brow. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

Both brows shot up now. She bit her lip with anticipation. "And?"

Dick licked at his bottom lip. "His name doesn't matter anymore," he replied softly, spinning around to place the dirty pan in the sink. "At the time, I was fighting alongside my good friends in this ... crimefighting group and they begged me not to look into him. I didn't listen. I found him early last year and he was arrested. But then he gave Gotham PD some information on a local crime family, and they ended up releasing him. So I ..."

He had been scrubbing at the gunk stuck to the bottom of the pan ruthlessly, but promptly stopped himself when he realized what he was doing. Dick straightened his back and stared ahead at the window placed right in front of his kitchen counter, still refusing to look at Iris.

"So I found out where he was living and planned to kill him," he continued. "I didn't, though. I beat him pretty good – almost to the point of death – but I was interrupted by a member of the crime family he outed to the cops. The guy shot him and I was gone before anyone could spot me.

"I finally came to the realization that my years with Batman really fucked me up. I felt like his methods were vengeful and I would soon be corrupted by violence, just like him. The only way out was to leave Gotham all together. It was the best thing to do." Dick released a heavy sigh and rinsed off the pan before placing it delicately in a rack. "That's how I ended up in Detroit this year."

Iris played with the eggs on her plate. "And why Detroit of all places?"

"It's close to home," he answered, far too quickly. "In case I'm needed."

"By needed, do you mean in case Batman needs you?"

He turned, finally meeting her grey irises yet again. "No, I'm done fighting with him." He shook his head firmly. "I'm not opposed to teams, but never with him. It's over."

"Sounds like a bad breakup, if you ask me," Iris quipped, looking back down at her plate.

His stare narrowed, and he raised a brow while wondering if the thoughts floating in his head were safe enough to voice out loud. Dick didn't think it hurt to try. This would definitely be stepping out of his comfort zone – especially, since he came to Detroit for a fresh start – but he always knew that wouldn't last for long. Crimefighting was like an ex that you still called back every once in a while.

"We could make a good team, you know."

Iris' stare flickered upward. "Huh?"

"Me and you," he repeated, pointing to each of their chests. "We could make a good team."

She released a nervous chuckle, attempting to hold it back by pressing her palm to her mouth. "You're not serious, right?" Iris shook her head, but the look in Dick's eyes told her otherwise. "Unless you're talking about at work, then no way. I'm not some 'superhero,' Dick. I'm dangerous." She pulled at the chain bound to her neck. "This is dangerous."

Dick brought his head down and laughed softly.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because," he lifted one side of his mouth into a smile, "someone once told me that I have a thing for dangerous women."

Iris blinked. The tension in the room was thick and she suddenly felt too awkward to say anything. Instead, she stuffed her mouth with more scrambled eggs.

"I'm just saying ..." He continued with a shrug. "I think if we work together more we could save people. But only if you let me in. That'll kill you more than a bullet."

She swallowed hard. His words were true, but held too much hope for the future. She couldn't – no, she wouldn't – promise to make a change like that. Iris was fine with complete independence and if they left her alone for the rest of her life, then so be it. She didn't want to let him in.

So she deflected. "You want us to be like Batman and Robin, huh?"

Dick's expression hardened. "No, never again."

"Well," she huffed, sliding off her chair and placing the plate of eggs beside him, "not interested. But thanks, though."

Dick rolled his eyes, spinning around once he realized she was heading back to the master bedroom. He reached out and gripped her arm. Iris turned back with a narrowed brow. "Hey, Iris, listen –"

"No, you listen, Dick." His hold wasn't tight, and she easily slipped her arm out of it. For a second, she wished he held on longer. "The less people you let in, the less you get hurt. So I suggest you find someone else to play dress-up with."

He stuck his hands in his front pockets and refused to say a word. His expression remained blank.

"I'll just ..." She twirled on her heel. "I'll get my things and leave."

•••

Iris kept telling herself that this was definitely an on-the-clock mission.

However, she wasn't confident in that assumption. Surely, visiting your former neighbor that you arrested in jail was part of her job description. It wasn't like she was doing this for fun. She didn't even want to be doing this anyway, but she had to. She knew that she did. Josh had to know something, and if Iris had to offer him some bail money to get it out of him, she would. The situation was bigger than jails and petty crimes, especially since she now had a necklace permanently clasped to her neck that harnessed some kind of weird power.

Josh was currently being held in a local jail on the outskirts of the city until his hearing in a few months. She received some intel once she showed her badge to one of the dimwitted officers within the jail, and apparently, Josh was going to request a lighter sentence during that hearing. They were betting the judge would give him at least fifteen years for armed robbery and he was going to ask for ten. Iris couldn't blame him. She assumed that whoever he was with were forcing him to enact the crime – but that was only an assumption.

Usually, she would fill out a visitor application form to visit an inmate, but things kind of change when you flash your badge to the director in charge. He led her through the narrow corridors of the jail, far away from where the inmates were located, all the way to the visitor center, where the room was divided by a see-through wall between the inmate and the visitor. The wall also served as a long table with slots placed in between for privacy. In all her years of being on the force, Iris only had to do this a few times. The sight of cracks within the glass wall caused sweat to form underneath her armpits.

She was asked to sit down in the last chair at the table. Iris chewed on her bottom lip as she waited for Josh's arrival. She noticed another visitor speaking with an inmate just a few rows down from her and their hands were both pressed against the glass. Iris curled her lip in disgust as she wondered how many germs lingered on the wall.

Just a few minutes later, a door swung open on the other side, and in walked Joshua Zuma in all his orange jumpsuit glory. Iris swallowed hard while watching him stalk up to the table, pull out the chair so slowly that the bottoms screeched against the floor, and sat down.

They stared at each other for a minute. Both completely frozen in place; both not knowing who should move first. Josh's stare was hardened and bruised, as if they had completely switched roles. Iris took a deep breath in and pushed a few hair out of her face before picking up the phone on her side of the table. Josh followed her lead.

"Hey," she huffed out.

His voice lacked any kind of emotion he once had: "Hi."

A beat of silence emerged. "I – um –" She laced her hands on top of the table. "I heard this is the nicest jail around –"

"Can we stop beating around the bush?" He asked, clearly exasperated. The bags under his eyes were heavy and dark. "Why are you here?"

Iris frowned. "Can a girl not visit her ex-neighbor in jail?"

"Not when she was the one who got him arrested in the first place," he quipped. "Are you on the clock?"

She cleared her throat, looking down at her hands. "Technically, yes," she whispered, lifting her head again to meet his eyes. He had one brow raised with suspicion. "But I'm here for personal reasons."

Josh sat back in his seat. His arching brow urged her to continue.

"I need to know why you were at St. Anne's that night," she replied. Iris paused, feeling for the necklace on her collar, only to realize that it was hidden beneath her turtleneck. "I need to know more about the people you were with and why you wanted that necklace."

"I'm not talking about the incident with anyone until I have my lawyer present."

"I'm not speaking to you right now as a fucking cop, Josh." Her grip on the phone tightened, and she found herself leaning into the glass. "I'm here as a person who needs answers."

Josh squinted. "Why do you care so much?"

Iris closed her eyes for a moment. "Just answer the questions."

"Not until you tell me what I get out of it."

Her eyes snapped open, grey irises zeroing in on the person before her. She tilted her head to the side. Iris would've never pegged him as a negotiator, but she guessed you don't get much from a person that you only see for five minutes every day.

"Well," she sighed, "what do you want? Bail money?"

"No way," he said, shaking his head. "This place is my only escape from out there. Last thing I want to do is get out anytime soon. I'm only requesting a lighter sentence in a few months because my lawyer says it'll make me look more innocent." He looked around before leaning more into the glass. His mouth twitched slightly. "I want you to put in a good word for me with the warden. I want a single."

Iris lifted a brow. "You want me to get you a cell all to yourself?" She asked, and he nodded again as a silent answer. "Okay, done. Answer my questions now."

"Promise?"

She groaned, "Yes, I promise. Pinky swear. Swear on my life. Now, answer."

Josh licked his lips. He rubbed at the outside of his eyelids, and Iris could hear him breathing heavily through the phone's speaker. Her leg wouldn't stop bouncing up and down. She had never felt so on edge. Whatever he was about to say next could either make or break the situation.

He exhaled heavily, "I can't tell you much –"

"Are you kidding me?!" She exclaimed, and the couple a few rows down turned their way. Iris scowled in their direction before questioning Josh, "What do you mean by that?"

"If I tell you, someone is gonna find out. Don't ask me how. Someone just will. And once I do that, my ass is on the line, and it won't end well." Josh's nostrils flared. "He has guys everywhere."

Iris blinked, slowing glancing to the other couple in the room. They were looking at them again. She swallowed hard and whispered, "Tell me what you can."

Josh bit down, viewing away for a moment, almost considering to hang up the phone. They probably had three minutes left, and if he didn't get at least something out, he knew Iris wouldn't fulfill her end of the bargain. Josh looked back at her anxious stare.

"The night you arrested me was when everything was supposed to come together," he began. "I was just instructed to go in with my guys, get the necklace, and leave. He told us this necklace was going to be our sole connection to Xiuhtecuhtli, and a new world would arise at our hands."

The necklace, she noted. He's talking about my necklace. I know it.

"Who is –" She waved a finger around. "– That name you just said?"

"I can't tell you that."

Iris hung her head low. "Then what more can you tell me, Josh?"

"Nothing else," he muttered low. "Honestly, Iris, just be glad he isn't coming for you after you got one of his pupils arrested. Then again, he doesn't really give a shit about anyone but himself."

"I don't understand," she said, running a hand through her matted hair. "Who is he?"

Josh's eyes softened. Iris released an aggravated sigh.

"I gotta go, Iris," Josh whispered with a smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Thanks for all the help."

Iris' mouth dropped as she watched Josh hang up the phone. A guard tapped him on the shoulder and escorted him out. Josh sent her a pitiful look over his shoulder before disappearing from the visiting center. With a groan, Iris smacked the phone back in place and sank low in her seat.

She really couldn't imagine this getting any worse. Maybe it was time to start knocking on wood.

•••

A/N: ok so, for some reason, this is one of my fave chapter so far!! we're really getting into the meat of this story now, folks! 😈