HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ TOGETHER. ❞

THERES A SAYING. It goes along the lines of: "Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality". Emily Dickinson, one of her many poems. Love is immortality, so maybe it was an act of divine cruelty, a wicked joke, that humans were made so tragically mortal, such fragile beings. Amy Rorhbach had died. No. She had been murdered. And, oh, if Abigail Lance hadn't felt like her world was crumbling before, she did now. The tears left her eyes before she truly had time to register she was crying.

They left streaks and trails down her cheeks, engraving their way into her still dirty and bloody skin. Abby felt her entire body shake and tremble and convulse as sobs ripped themselves from her throat, tearing pieces of her heart out with them. She was supposed to have been safe in Detroit. Amy was supposed to be alive.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Abigail let out another yell, one that sounded more like a battle cry, and maybe it was. Maybe she was waging war against the monsters who did this. The ones who took Rachel and Dawn and Amy from her. How had she already lost two of the people she'd only just gotten back?

Dick watched on with a pained look, feeling as though a thick glass wall stood between him and girl in front. He was watching her heart break through a telescope, so close yet so far away. He wanted to reach for her, hold her, to tell her it was going to be okay, she was going to be okay. But he couldn't. His gaze dropped to his clenched hands and he turned to leave, to give her space to mourn a good friend, a good person.

"Dick...."

Hearing the crack and pain in her voice made him want to bring Amy Rorhbach back to life himself. He would've stormed Hell and taken on the Devil himself. But hearing her speak to him, finally, sent hope through him like a wildfire, burning away the darkness that crawled at the corners. He turned back to her, eyes soft and gentle and brows pulled together.

She stared at her folded hands, "Don't leave me."

Her voice was a whisper against the echoing, empty room. He feared it would swallow her up.

"Just... stay. For me."

Dick's legs were already moving, carrying him back towards the bed, back towards her. He wasn't going to leave her. Not this time. Not again. He stopped at her side, pulling a chair as close as he could as he sat down; Dick's eyes watched her pick at the catheter taped down to the bruised skin of her hand as the tears dried against her red cheeks.

"Stop messing with your IV," he murmured through his breath as he rested a hand on hers, stilling her movements. For a second he worried she'd pull away. She didn't.

"It itches," she mumbled, eyes trained on their hands, he eventually removed it, guilt flooding his veins and he dropped his hands.

Silence descended like a cloud on their shoulders, then a laugh filled. Dick felt a nostalgic grin spread over his face and he shook his head as he let out another chuckle, pressing his knuckles to his lips.

Abby looked up at him, her voice still hoarse and unsteady from the tears, but half smiling at the sound of his laugh, "What?"

"This... this just reminds me..." he met her gaze, smiling, "When we met, for the first time. Do you remember?"

Of course she did. How could she not?

Abigail paused, closing her eyes to reminisce as the edges of her lips curved up, "Oh my God. That was so embarrassing. So fucking mortifying. Aunt Dinah was—."

"Fucking hilarious?"

She shot him a playful glare, the two of them letting a quiet ripple of laughter settle over them and for a second, she forgot everything that had happened. All the death and loss and pain. Amy was still alive. Dawn was still awake. Rachel was still home with her mother. Dick was still lying next to her every morning.

Abby felt herself fall into her thoughts and eventually, Dick's eyes began to flutter. His face relaxed as he slowly began to drift off, and Abigail soon found herself following suit, her mind drifting into the past. Back to when she used to fight crime alongside her family, back to when she was a hero. They were happier days, better days.

"Tremor!"

The small girl's head snapped towards the source of the voice. Her aunt stood on the edge of the rooftop, her blonde hair the colour of stars and moondust under the silvery light. She was like Artemis. Moon kissed and dusk soaked and full of the wild. Untameable. Unbeatable. Born from the night and the darkness and chaos.

Today was always hard for Abby. Every year for the past five had been. Barely a week after her birthday — the day her mother left. It had been okay to be distracted at first. But for the past year, she had been fighting crime alongside her aunt and they did not want a repeat of the disaster which was last year.

"Sorry, Canary!" Abby replied, hurrying across the gravel to bound onto the roof next to her aunt.

Dinah smiled down softly at the teenager, though her eyes spoke of grief and sadness. Sara was Dinah's sister after all. The blonde turned back to the city before them, pushing her baby sister from her mind as her icy eyes scoured the skyline. She was looking for something, for someone. There. Two figures, darting across the night, nothing more than silhouettes and shadows against the pale moon light.

"You see 'em, kiddo?" Dinah asked, exchanging a bright eyed look with her niece.

A toothy grin spread across Abigail's face as she spotted the other duo. Ollie and Roy.

Abby looked to the blonde mischievously, "We can totally beat them, B.C."

Dinah grinned, and jerked her head to the side, signalling for the brunette to follow; then she took off down the ledge, jumping down onto the fire escape and over onto the balcony of the opposing window. Abby tried her best to copy her, launching herself from the roof and down onto the rickety metal staircase below.

Her combat boots hit the ledge with a thud, the structure shaking under her weight, and she pulled herself up onto it's rubbed and rusty railings. Grip tight on the beams, she coiled her legs and launched herself across the narrow gap between the buildings, common in the Glades. Abby's breath hitched as she hit the balcony on the other side, her legs wobbling as she lurched herself towards and toppled down onto the balcony.

Dinah. Abigail's eyes shot upwards, watching her aunt quickly disappearing from her view and sprang up, making fast work of scaling the drainpipe. Her head poked over the top of the building, catching sight of the Black Canary racing across the stones. Eager to catch up, Abby scrambled after her, clumsily pulling herself onto the old ledge. Her boot snagged on a crack, the section of the ridge crumbling under her weight. The young girl's eyes widened behind her still new mask.

Her scream caught in her throat, coming out a surprised gasp, as her footing gave way and she felt herself topple backwards from the four storey building.

Abigail jolted awake, the fear and panic from the memory waking her. Her heart was thudding. Memories could still affect you, even when they were long gone. Her fingertips grazed the faded scar on her exposed forearm almost nostalgically, a dazed remembrance. Abby's brown eyes drifted across to Dick, softening as she watched him sleep. The bags under his eyes suggested that he needed it. Her breathing slowed and a wave of calmness washed over her, shoulders dropping.

It was night by now. The hospital was quiet. Well, quieter. The wing Abigail found herself in had few lights, and she could hear the hum of electricity and the buzz of machinery in the very air around her. Restless, Abigail soon decided she was sick of sitting in a fucking hospital bed. She slowly peeled the duvet from her legs, and swung them over the side of the frame, the cold air biting into them as they dangled. Shifting forwards, she gently eased herself down onto the floor.

Her feet touched the cold vinyl. She shifted uncomfortably on them for a second before standing up straight. Abby's legs wobbled slightly, her head spinning, but she forced her body into gear, forced it to function. Grabbing onto the silver IV stand beside her bed, the brunette slowly began to head towards the door as silently as she could muster.

Soon, she found herself padding down the winding corridors of the hospital. God she hated them. Hated the foreboding atmosphere of them, like Death stood around every turn before you, lurked in the shadowy corners. The unsettling combination of antiseptic disinfectant and pharmaceutical chemicals unnerved Abigail to her core. Life and death stood far too close in places like this for her liking. The line between the two was too blurry.

In the corner of her eye, at the edge of her peripheral vision, she suddenly caught sight of a wisp of moonlight. She stopped, turned. Dawn. Abigail let out a relieved but broken gasp, shaky hand over her lips, as she saw Dawn Granger comatose before her. White halo made of stars encircling her head on the pillow, the woman was pale and sickly, clearly holding on for dear life. She looked like a ghost. Surreal. Ephemeral. For a second, Abigail forgot she too was hooked up to an IV line to hold back the pain swimming at the back of her mind. She stumbled forwards, delicately placing her fingertips against the glass.

Staring in through the cold glass, Abigail watched from the outside, wiping away fog with a shaky hand as her breath formed condensation. Dawn lay on the bed, comatose, like sleeping beauty; Hank sat at her side, faithful, unwilling to leave her, sleeping soundly. This was on her. Guilt pulled at her chest, playing a tragic melody with her heartstrings. Slowly, her hand drifted towards the metal handle, resting on it as she hesitated. Her other gripped the metal pole of the drip, so tight she thought it mind bend and break. This was on her. Her eyes stuck to the scene before her.

"It's not your fault, Abs."

A person appeared at her shoulder, hovering close to her back, voice kind and soft and sincere. Grayson. She let out a sigh, clearly disagreeing with what he was saying. His hand gently covered her own, and his warm touch spread across her skin, setting it on fire. Don't. His words hung silently between them.

"I could've done something," she whispered, eyes not drifting, nor daring to look at him.

His hand moved to touch her shoulder and she finally turned to face him, her face a tragedy of blue bruises and sorrow. Not even Shakespeare could have thought this up. Dick stared down at her for a second before placing his hands against her cheeks either side of her face, threading his fingers through her chestnut hair. He pulled her head towards him and placed a soft kiss against her forehead before pulling her into a tight hug.

Abigail melted into him, falling against him like she was a collapsing tower. She let go of the drip, wrapping her arms under his and hugging him close, face buried into his chest as her eyes teared up again, filling and filling until her vision blurred. He rested his chin on her head, running a hand up and down her back soothingly as her body convulsed and shuddered with sobs, wracking and shaking.

They stood there. Neither knew how long for. Until Abby stopped crying. A when she finally did, they pulled apart, Dick wiping the stray tears that remained from her damp cheek as she smiled sadly up at him.

"Thanks, Batboy," Abby sniffled.

The nickname was an old one. One of the original she'd given him when they'd met for the first time. She had loved seeing him scowl and pout as he corrected her with an indignant it's Robin!! and Donna would burst out laughing as he stormed off in a huff. Over the years, it had been one of the few which had stuck.

Dick tried not to smile as he raised an eyebrow at her, "Really? That one? I was being nice as well."

"You love it," Abby teased, taking a moment to appreciate the smile that broke across the man before hers face.

He refrained from rolling his eyes, instead slinging an arm around her shoulder as he began leading her back towards her ward, pulling the drip beside him. Abigail let herself relax for a second, let herself enjoy the moment as she leant back into the arm behind her head and her mind took her back to when they'd practically walk around The Tower joint at the hip. Hank had made the joke once that even the Terror Twins had nothing on them. He'd been answered with a pillow in his face from Dick.

The two stopped at the glass door leading to the bed Abby had escaped not an hour before. Her feet cemented to the ground and she looked at the cot before her like it was a prison. Glass walls didn't make it any less a cage.

"I can't stay here, Dick," Abby whispered, crossing her arms in frustration.

"Just a few more days, then we go, okay?" Dick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'll take you wherever you wanna go."

Abigail looked at him in surprise, her eyebrows briefly tugging close before she moved to open the door, hesitating, then turning back to him, "Me and you?"

Dick stared over at her, his gaze locked intently on hers as he resisted the urge to brush a stray strand of umber hair from her eyes. The words that tumbled from his lips came far too easily, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He nodded at her, not being able to help the lopsided grin which spread across his lips.

"Together."

NOTE!
next chapter will be a FLASHBACK chapter, and so you'll get to see baby abby anD MORE OLLIE AND DINAH 😭 also, please check out the latest chapter in my misc book to give me a hand with character stuff for this which i need help with x