HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ THE REUNION. ❞

TAKING A STEP BACK FROM THE DOOR IN SURPRISE, Abigail suddenly wasn't sure when to intrude. Getting involved in someone else's business never ended well, and as much as she loved him, Abigail knew how Hank could get when he was angry. But when the sound of glass shattering reverberated through the walls, she didn't waste a second in kicking open the door with a bang and rushing inside.

Discarding her bag on the floor, she headed straight towards the source of the noice, rounding the corner just in time to see windows explode and a blue haired girl expel what Abby could only describe as a fucking demon as she screamed stop. In all fairness, it worked. The two men flew apart from each other, now covered in shattered glass and wearing shocked and alarmed expressions. All eyes fixed on the girl, who looked more terrified of herself then they did, as she slowly backed away from the scene she'd just caused. As soon as Abigail saw her face, she knew — Rachel Roth.

"I'm sorry," Rachel whispered, stumbling back before she fled the room.

Abigail watched her go, still not quite believing that she had actually found this kid. When she turned back to the other four, all their eyes were now fixed on her, who had broken in just as hell, it appeared, had quite literally broke loose. A bomb going off probably would have shocked them less. Abigail Lance had vanished off the face of the Earth four years ago, and now here she stood, in the middle of the room as though by magic she had just appeared. A ghost, a revenant.

Hank and Dawn's expressions soon morphed from ones of shock and surprise to a wicked smile of fondness and an overabundance of joy, respectively. Both lit up at the sight of their friend.

Then Abigail saw him. Her dark gaze landed on the brown eyes of Dick Grayson and for a split second she forgot how to breathe. Her heart stopped. From his worn sneakers to the mess of hair on his head, he handn't changed one bit. She took in the slight bruise on his cheek and the cuts on his hands, her mind flashing back to the times when she'd have to patch them up after a night on patrol. The sight of him alone made a small smile want to pull up the edges of her lips and she had to fight it down brutally. Memories were dangerous comforts.

The man before watched her too, the haze from the force Rachel had give off had blurred his vision but as soon as he had seen Abigail the world came into focus. For a moment, he looked at her in such a way you wouldn't think the rest of reality existed. She was it. The entire cosmos fitted into the form of this woman. He took her in from her blackened cheekbone to busted lip, from the surprised arch of her eyebrow to the traces of cuts and scrapes that marred her fingers. She was how she had always been — beautiful, in a brutal and bloody and dangerous way.

Four years came down to the space between them which one could cross in three steps, if that. The world held it's breath and the two of them just stared. Anyone else could see they wanted to speak, wanted to rush to each other, but no words came to mind and they were left stretching for each other across the silence. Dick Grayson's eyes practically begged Abigail Lance to run to him, to promise she didn't hate him, to hold him and fix him. Abigail Lance looked like she had just seen a fucking ghost.

Neither of them moved. It took all her will power, but the brunette dragged her eyes from where he stared at her; he looked hurt, aching. So did she. Salt in old wounds they'd both tried to forget. Like their anaesthesia had finally worn off. Her gaze shifted to look at the gleeful grin that had overcome Dawn's face, somehow not phased by the reunion. The two girls fell into an embrace, hugging each other tightly before Dawn pulled back and held Abigail at arms length, looking her over.

"Abigail fucking Lance," Dawn breathed, "In about as good of shape as ever, I see."

"You don't look too bad yourself, Queenie," Abigail grinned, letting out a laugh as Dawn pulled her back into another hug.

"Queenie," Dawn scoffed, "I don't even have an accent anymore."

"It's a nickname, relevance isn't the point," Abby smiled slyly, not taking a step away from Dawn before Hank pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

Considering the fact that he looked as worse for wear as she did, Abigail was surprised he could manage it. Her injuries cried out in protest but she ignored them, saving the moment with one of her longest lasting friends. Hank let her go, putting her on the ground and affectionately messing up her hair, to which she rolled her eyes and puffed a strand from her eyes.

"You look like shit, Tremors," the former quarterback chuckled as he looked down at the injuries littering the brunette.

Abigail quirked an eyebrow, "Well it's not like you could win a fucking pageant looking like that either, Bird Boy."

"Touché," Hank grinned, stepping aside to find his girlfriend, who had vanished into the lounge.

It left only Dick and Abigail alone. And for a split second he looked like he was about to open his mouth and say what Abby prayed to fucking God was an apology, otherwise it would end with a black eye, when his gaze landed on her cheek; it was turning black with a bruise and dried blood, and anger and vengeance and fury flickered across his face. Then Dawn reappeared, returning from the living room, Abigail's duffel bag slung over her shoulder. The white haired women looked to Abigail in alarm.

"Did you kick the fucking door down?"

Abigail grimaced sheepishly, scratching the top of her head, "Sorry about that... in my defence I heard yelling and shit breaking."

"You're paying for this, Abby!" Hank's disgruntled voice came from the lounge, echoing off of the walls as the sound of him picking up the door followed.

Dawn shook her head in amusement. She had missed the brunette, even if seeing her again meant losing her door. She picked up her bag from the table as she placed Abby's stuff down.

"C'mon, Lance," Dawn offered, jerking her head towards the door in jest for Abby to follow, "breakfast on me. Think we need a catch up. We'll find a handyman whilst we're out."

The platinum blonde woman looped her arm through Abigail's as the brunette passed her, and the two of them soon found themselves wandering down the street to a small cafe down the street — a favourite of Abby's from when she used to visit more, what felt years ago now.  Maybe it was. But it didn't take long for the two of them to dissolve into laughter and smiles and the faint sense of nostalgic comfort.

BY THE TIME THE TWO WOMEN HAD RETURNED, dusk had begun to fall upon the horizon, it's breathe grazing the sky above , painting it a dark blue haze. They had only realised the time when Hank had text Dawn to remind her that the door was still kicked down. They never did find a handyman, but were more than up to date on even the most boring details of each other's lives. Nostalgia was a painful, but reconnecting could be as soothing as honey.

Their walk back to the apartment was slow and deliberate. Seeing Dawn had made Abigail reminisce about one of the first friends she ever made, Donna Troy. They had left the hero gig together, but life was a labyrinth and starting the journey together hadn't guaranteed they'd take the same path. Time was a bitch like that.

Trekking back to the elevator, and up in the lift to Hank and Dawn's apartment, they had found themselves under a blanket of silence. Abigail could sense the troubled thoughts racing through her friend's head, she knew there was something not being said, something about to happen. The question of asking clawed at her throat and Abigail nearly choked on it.

The door to the apartment was open, and a frown set into Dawn's features, their pace quickening as they got nearer. Inside, Abigail's eyes fell upon Hank waiting for them, sat on the sofa with a heavy duffel bag by his feet and such a solemn expression that his wounds and scars looked like scratches. She may have been confused, but his white haired girlfriend wasn't. She nodded grimly, offering Abby a consoling half smile before she wandered towards the spare room where Rachel Roth sat alongside Dick Grayson. A moment too late, Abigail realised it was a goodbye. She watched through the glass as the three spoke, a stranger looking in.

Her eyes moved to Hank, who was glaring ahead with an unreadable expression. She shifted on her feet, brown eyes sharp as she stood in front of him, obstructing his concentration. He turned to stare up at her, already knowing what she was going to ask. Already knowing what she would say, what objections she had. One look at her and he knew she hadn't changed in four years. No amount of floral shops could erase the part of Abigail Lance that strove with every waking breath to protect everyone.

"You can't change my mind, Tremors."

The sobriety of his voice caught her by surprise. This wasn't the same smart mouthed Hank who swung his fists first and asked the questions later. Her lips parted to let a sigh escape.

"What have you two gotten yourself into, Hank?" Abigail breathed, her face softening as she looked down at the man before her.

Hank's brows pulled together, his words sounding more like a reassurance for himself than his friend, "One last job. Just one last job. Then we're out, we're done. Just like you, Abby."

Abigail stiffened, concern flooding her features, "What job, Hank? What kind of job are you and Dawn going on?"

"A suicidal one."

Dick Grayson's voice, as rough and brooding as ever, interrupted the two, his eyes fixed on Abigail as his jaw set and Dawn hovered at his shoulder. Shivers worked their way down her spine under his gaze and at the sound of his voice. She pushed her nails into her palm to stop her body trembling.

"Some battles you just gotta fight, Dick," Dawn replied softly, a gentle resignation in the way she spoke. As if she'd accepted whatever fate lay at the end of this job. Abigail was not so accepting.

"And some battles should be avoided to prevent you own death, I'm sorry since when were Hawk and Dove so careless with their own lives?" Abby's tone was harsh but she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"We're taking down some weapons suppliers. Keeping those guns off the streets will make a difference," Hank tried to explain.

"Gun traders?" Abigail looked between the two, "You need backup. You can't take them in alone."

Dawn shook her head, "You left that life behind, Abby. We won't ask you to enter it again. Just like we ask you not to try and talk us out of this."

Abby's words died in her throat. What scared her was they might be the last ones she ever said to some of her oldest friends. Unable to get her voice past her lips into the air, she watched in silence as the two vigilantes picked up their bags and left the apartment, leaving Abigail and Dick stood in the same place, staring at the empty doorway like they could make Hank and Dawn walk back through it with their sheer power of will. Change their minds with wishes. They couldn't. The duo didn't reappear.

"They need you, Dick."

Rachel Roth stood behind them, leant against a wall. She had an expression on her face that told Abigail that, somehow, their was more truth to her words than simple common sense.

"I can feel it. And isn't that what you do?" her voice was barely more than a whisper but it carried across the space with ease.

Dick looked up from where he had been focusing on the floor, "And what's that?"

"You help people," Rachel smiled, the faith she had in this man so clear it reminded Abby of when she felt it too. It hurt.

"I used to think so," Dick replied under his breath, hesitating for a moment, "I used to think it was one of the things I was best at. Until I realised the more I had to help the people who needed it, the worse I had to hurt others, do you understand?"

Rachel nodded quietly. Abigail listened, every word of his begging her to interrupt. Begging her to correct him, to tell him that he was fantastic, he was kind and honest and moral and strong and good. Helping people had always been what he was best at and not Batman, criminals or even his own self-loathing could take that away from him. But she didn't. She stayed quiet. She didn't know how to speak to him yet, didn't know if she could.

"You want to help them, but you're scared," Rachel replied, somehow filling her words with kindness, "Sometimes there just isn't time to be scared."

Dick's face softened for a moment before turning to stone. Abigail would know the look anywhere. It didn't come as a surprise when he then grabbed one of his silver brief cases and took to the door; he spared a glance back at the two girls before he vanished, leaving Rachel and Abigail to stand where they had been left.

"He needed that," Abigail smiled warmly, "God knows he'd never admit it, but he did. He's always been a stubborn shit. But he's good."

"He needs you, too," Rachel answered, earning a surprised pair of raised eyebrows from the brunette stood before her. When Rachel had first met Dick Grayson, first touched his hand, she had met Abigail Lance, too. The brunette's face had been everywhere in the detective's mind, her eyes, her smile, the way her cheeks dimpled when she laughed — all scattered throughout his memories like shrapnel from a bomb. His every thought somehow led back to her.

"No he doesn't," Abigail smiled sadly, melancholy so strong Rachel could feel it from across the room, "Not anymore. Not like he did."

Rachel slowly crossed the distance between the two of them, reaching for her. She carefully placed a hand on the brunettes, cautious to whether she truly wanted to peer inside Abigail's mind. But she did, and the curve of a smile graced her lips.

"You know him better than that." Rachel removed her hand, placing it on Abigail's shoulder instead, "Your friends need you. What are you gonna do about it?"

NOTE!
abby has all my uwus and whilst their reunion isn't what i wanted, i don't think i could've done it a different way? like this was best case scenario. every other one was somehow way more violent. anyway, dynamic duo coming next chapter 🤪