HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ TIES THAT BIND. ❞

ABIGAIL LANCE WAS GETTING REALLY TIRED OF BLEEDING OUT ON BATHROOM FLOORS. And yet reality left her painting the white tiles a spectrum of reds and crimsons, staining them irrevocably as her blood seeped into cracks and crevices.

She was sat on the floor, back against a cabinet and ruined leather jacket haphazardly thrown to the side, half in the bathtub. Scattered first aid supplies laid around her from the mirror cabinet above the sink, torn packets and stray bandages.

She didn't fit in with the room, with the white paint and the clean counters and bright lighting. She stuck out, black clothes and blood soaked skin and shadowed eyes, she seemed to darken the bathroom with her very presence.

Letting out a sigh, her head fall back with a thud. Rolling to the side, her gaze fell through the open archway of the bathroom to the glass-encased shower, she could see Dr Adamson's unconscious form still lying on the floor.

"Same, pal," Abby muttered.

The brunette looked down to her shoulder, watching the blood slowly but surely soak through the badly pressed roll of fabric held to the wound. Fuck.

"You're really making a mess in here."

A voice drew Abby's eyes upwards.

Dick Grayson had arrived, scraped and weary and leant against the doorframe with his arms folded and his brows creased. She'd seen that look many a times before. Her lips twitched downwards subconsciously.

"Thought I'd liven the place up, add a bit of colour," Abby replied nonchalantly, though he could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

He breathed out through his nose. "Sound like you're having fun."

"Yeah, I happen to like my blood ruining Bruce Wayne's floor instead of being, y'know, inside my body," Abby drawled, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe try remembering that next time you take a bullet, Lance," Dick laughed, stepping over her sprawled legs and squatting by her other side, his hands moving to the cotton swab she'd pressed there. "C'mon."

His words were gentle, little more than a nudge, his fingers barely grazing her own — but she knew he wasn't asking.

With a reluctant sigh, Abby lifted her hand, letting her scarlet fingers drop to her lap. Dick's hands were quick to move the bloody tissue, his warm touch a shock to her cold and clammy skin, eliciting a whimper from her that knitted his brows. He pulled her towards him lightly to check for an exit wound, finding little comfort in seeing it as her forehead landed on his shoulder.

"It didn't catch anything. I can't feel any broken bones in my shoulder and I can still move my arm," Abby whispered, the words tasting familiar on her tongue.

Dick hummed quietly in response.

A sick sense of déjà vu intoxicated her head. Truth was, this is a scene they had lived countlessly, a play they'd swapped roles in too many times, often in the pink hours of dawn after a bloody patrol that had left them worn down to their very bones. The memories played on loop in her head, anaesthesia to the pain that slowly crept into the corners of her brain.

She'd been patched up so much she knew exactly what that bullet had and hadn't done to her. Abby was perfectly capable of handling this herself — if only her body would listen to her. But the adrenaline was wearing off and she could feel a comforting drowsiness begin to swarm her mind like static on an old tv.

"Hey," Dick said softly, pausing to carefully push her head back and meet her gaze. "Try to stay awake, okay? Don't go nodding off on me whilst I'm doing all the hard work, birdie."

"I'll do what I want, thank you very much," Abby mumbled incoherently, a sluggish smile creeping onto her lips.

She was resting heavily against his warm palm cupping her cheek and he was trying desperately hard to settle the panic rising in his chest at her current state.

Dick forced a chuckle. "Don't I fucking know it."

"Oi," she snapped, but it was hardly as sharp as her usual tone, "Watch it, Batbrat."

"Always a pleasure," Dick muttered in amusement.

She could feel him tugging at the wound, stitching it up likely, but couldn't bring herself to look. The sight of blood didn't bother her, but the dull ache only granted by sheer exhaustion and fast-fading adrenaline was more than enough.

Abby knew she didn't have time to be sitting about wallowing like this. Part of her team were still missing, Rachel and Noah were still all the way back in Daybreak City babysitting a family of nutjobs — and there was an unconscious man in the living room. She wasn't sure she had any aces up her sleeve at this point.

Letting out a groan, the brunette leant towards her discarded jacket.

"For fuck's sake, Abs," Dick huffed, clambering to lean after her with the needle and thread of her stitches still in his hand.

She rummaged through the pockets and pulled out her phone, whining to herself at the sight of the cracked screen but settling into content as the device still flickered on. She blanched.

40 missed calls.

"Oh... fuck," she drew out the first two letters with a grimace.

"You're popular," Dick commented, glancing up from his work to take note of her screen.

"No, no, I'm most likely in trouble," Abby corrected, scrolling through her phone log. "Twenty-five of these are from Noah."

Dick laughed. "And the other fifteen?"

Abby sent him a blank look. "My concerned aunt, Ollie, oh Nora called me t— ah ... and Roy. Who is probably planning my murder. How fast do you reckon I can leave the country?"

"Okay, all done," Dick announced, dropping the needle and leftover thread into the small bin beside him and turning back to ask about why her family were calling seemingly out of the blue, only to find her already stumbling to her feet. "Jesus, stop! You'll hurt yourself even more — sit back down, you've lost too much blood to be—."

"I'm fine, Grayson," Abby interrupted, brushing him off nonchalantly. "There's things to do, I can't just sit around."

He caught her uninjured shoulder as she moved to leave the bathroom, turning her to face him. His lungs ached involuntarily at the sight of her; at the black holes that seemed to be swallowing her umber irises whole; at the cherry plum bruises and blood clots blossoming on her skin like wilting flowers. Why did she always seem to be tearing herself apart?

His chest felt cavernous and hollow. She looked so fragile, she looked so tired. A stray petal caught in the currents of a hurricane, a burning ember flickering so close to extinguishing — no, this is where he'd gone wrong before. Thinking she wasn't strong enough, thinking he had to protect her.

But it felt like the more he reached the further away she got. And it was hard watching the person you love tear themselves apart. He could save her, right?

Sometimes it was hard to remember the rest of the world needed him when the person in front of him consumed his every thought, making a home in his waking moments.

Dick wrapped his arms around her, cautiously, carefully. He could still smell the antiseptic on her, could taste the metallic twist of blood on his tongue. Abby bristled under his touch, all thorns and sharp edges. And then she softened, armour giving away to silk, and he pulled her to him, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"Please, you have to stop this," Dick pleaded, voice muffled by her hair. "Abby, you're not invincible. It's okay to slow down."

"If I slow down someone could die. Jess could die. Kory. Gar. Rachel." Abby swallowed thickly, wincing at her own words. "I'll stop when they're safe."

But her arms betrayed her, hands reaching up to cling to his back. She leant into his body, breathing in his familiar smell and digging her fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. Melting into him. She couldn't help it. The ties that bind her to Dick Grayson were impossible to break, she decided.

His words echoed in her head, making her eyes prick hot with unshed tears. Her grip on him tightened. The comfort his hold offered hadn't changed in all these years. His touch alone could silence the noise.

There was an awkward cough.

Abby pulled back sharply, blinking forcefully.

Ava Black stood behind them. Her eyes flittered across the room, decidedly not landing on them, and her foot tapped a nervous staccato on the tiled floor. Her presence shifted the atmosphere and found Abby taking a few steps back to distance herself from Dick. He watched her with a closed expression.

"Everything okay?" Abby finally asked, sniffing and running her hands anxiously through her hair. She grimaced.

"Is your shoulder doing okay?" Ava asked hesitantly. The tone of her voice, kind but framed by jittery energy, reminded Abby of Barry Allen. Briefly, her mind wandered to Wally West.

Abby nodded with what remnants of a smile she could muster, whacking Dick lightly in the ribs as she spoke. "Peachy. Batboy patched me up good."

"Okay, well Jason and I were just worried cause — well you vanished and we were worried because, you know, all that blood and you were... shot..." Ava reported awkwardly, her face relaxing.

"No need to worry. Just a flesh wound." Abby pulled her phone out again, walking towards the doorway. "I'll call Noah and see how things are in Daybreak. We should probably start questio—."

"I can handle Adamson," Dick interrupted, giving her a pointed look, "You should call your family back and rest up."

Abby paused, breath caught in her throat. Her hand clenched around her phone and her eyes dropped to her feet. "They're fine. I'm fine."

"They're worried," Dick corrected, "About you. I'm worried about you."

She averted her gaze. "They probably got an alert. My phone is programmed to monitor my vitals. I just gave them a scare — but I'm stable now, so they can wait. Our three teammates can't."

Her explanation seemed to trigger something in Dick's memory, reminding him of something unpleasant and pulling a crease into his dark brows. She opened her mouth to ask, but changed her mind and instead turned on her heels and left him in the bathroom, following Ava back into the lounge. Each step seemed to clear her head more and more.

One tap on her screen had Noah's number dialling. He picked up at the third ring.

"Nice of you to call back!"

"Hey, sorry," Abby sighed, "Holding down the fort?"

There was no reply. Then a loud huff of breath. "They're all dead, Abby."

Had he found—

Her heart stuttered in her chest, her hands trembled violently. "Wh—."

"The family. Mom, Dad, B— whatever their names were." Noah cleared his throat. "Their... their heads exploded. About an hour or so ago. Probably a cover up. No loose ends, no leads, I guess."

Abby stepped away from Jason and Ava, round the first corner she spotted, and pressed her back to the wall and her palm to her head. "Fuck. Makes sense. Fuck. Okay, you might as well just come to us. 888 North Lakeshore Drive. It's better if we're all together."

"Roger that," Noah muttered back.

Abby chewed on her lip. "Is Rachel...?"

A soft laugh vibrated down the phone. "Just a bit shaken. She'll be fine by the time we reach you."

"Right. Good, yeah, okay," Abby acknowledged. She hung up quickly, shoving her phone into her back pocket and shaking her hands.

"All okay back there, Tremors?" Jason's patronising voice called out to her. She growled quietly at his persistent use of the nickname.

Fuck.

She pushed her hair back from her face, eye twitching at the pain from disturbed bruises. Her tone was as sarcastic as ever. "Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic, half pint. Thanks for asking."

Four of their five sources were dead — and Abby had already lost too much time already. She was going to find Jess and Gar and Kory, she would find a way, she wouldn't give up. Not yet. She wouldn't fail them like she failed those kids.

Jason's snarky comment was lost as she heard Dick approaching, his footsteps barely audible. Years of practise carved into muscle memory. Abby turned to face him, tired eyes widening at the sight of the bandage wrapped around his forearm; her eyes tracked his strides across the room with eyebrows laced in concern.

"Jason, Ava, thanks for your help back there — but Abby and I are good now," Dick started, placing something in Jason's hand as he walked past him. "You guys should head home."

"What the hell, man?" Jason managed to choke out, his face mirroring what Abby guessed hers looked like. 

"Never thought I'd say this, but I've gotta side with your fun sized replacement here," Abby spluttered, panicked, "Dick, what the fuck did y—."

"I'm fine, Abs," Dick reassured her, his gaze flitting to Jason, "I'm not Robin anymore. Have a safe trip home."

"You didn't have to do that," Jason answered after a pause, in such a soft way Abby glanced to him in surprise.

"Yeah, I did," Dick said, "And you should, too."

Abby bit her lip. She knew how much Dick Grayson had struggled. And that was half a decade ago when he still worked with Bruce. Even then she remembered seeing the conflict in his eyes. It had been years on years and Abby Lance, even now, wasn't sure what her opinion on Bruce Wayne was.

"Why?" Jason's frown deepened.

"Cause we're not animals in Bruce Wayne's private zoo," Dick snapped, anger flaring like gas on a bonfire.

"You don't get it, man," Jason snarled, "He did it for you. For us — in case anything ever happened, he could find us."

Ava stepped forwards, reaching for Jason. Her expression was hard to read, but seemed somewhere between empathy and worry and caution. Abby grabbed her, holding her back with a shake of her head. It would only make it worse.

"Thanks for stopping by." Dick shoved Jason's case into his arms. "Tell Bruce we're gonna need the place for a couple days. He should be okay with it."

Jason's brown creased as he placed his case back down. "I'm not sure you really understand him, man."

Dick scoffed. "I think I'm the one guy in the world who does..." He sighed. "Look, Jason, he might have you thinking you're a partnership, but everything Bruce does is for one thing. His mission. Gotham."

Abby had her share of shit parental figures. Never knowing her father, and her mother ducking out of the picture before she hit double digits had more of an effect than she would ever like to admit — but she had gained Dinah, and Ollie, and Roy. She couldn't fathom losing them only to gain someone who couldn't prioritise you over a city rotting from the inside out.

She'd lived in a mansion, grown up in rooms too big and halls too long. She knew Dick had found the ones at Wayne Manor leagues lonelier than she ever had found those at Oliver Queen's home.

By the time she looked up, the Robins and Star City's latest archer had moved, relocating to the sofa with a row of pictures splayed before them. One glance at their contents left Abby's stomach churning. Murders, gruesome and malicious. Melted skin and disfigured faces.

"... addressed to Robin. Whoever sent them thinks you're still Robin." Catching the end of Jason's explanation did little to explain the context, but Abby felt her blood run cold at Dick's response.

His eyes bore into the pictures, skimming each detail and element for some hidden explanation. When his expression faltered, his eyes wavering, Abby knew he'd found it.

"I know these people." A small smile pulled at his lips. "I worked with them at Haly's Circus."

Abby's hand fell to his shoulder, squeezing lightly to provide what little comfort she could. She felt helpless when his voice turned vulnerable, when he spoke his words so softly and so full of melancholy and fondness like this. It was a twisted combination that she knew far too well often came accompanied by old memories.

Jason's voice once again came out empathetic, and Abby found herself considering the possibility that maybe she had misjudged him. "That must've sucked. I'm sorry, man."

A frown of concentration had made its way onto Ava's face, and she leant forwards to point to one of the pictures of the worser victims. "These looks like acid burns — hydrofluoric acid. Isn't that the Maroni crime family's signature send off? Harvey Dent, the Graysons, various Gotham coun—."

Jason turned back to her with a look of shock, maybe even impressed by her knowledge. But this was Barry Allen's daughter and Abby wasn't caught off guard in the slightest.

"You're right," Dick nodded, cutting Ava off from further examples. His next works caught in his throat. "Tony Zucco worked for the Maronis when he killed my parents."

Abby's eyes skimmed across the photos. "This can't be him. And the Maronis were put away years ago."

"Well, the papers call this man the Melting Man," Jason informed, "since he melts the flesh right off their bones. Creepy as shit. Any ideas?"

"Man I'm thinking of is dead," Dick replied curtly.

"... So that's a no?" Jason clarified.

"Have the GCPD got any leads?" Abby inquired.

"Why would I go to the fucking cops?" Jason scoffed, looking at Abby incredulously.

"There are five murders—," Ava started in a bewildered tone, looking at Jason sharply.

"This isn't fucking Central City, Blue," Jason snapped, a dirty look cast his way from Ava at the nickname, "Gotham cops are a joke. There are two kinds: useless, and dirty."

"Is that what Bruce says?" Dick challenged with a glare.

Jason rolled his eyes. "No, it's what I say. They hit a dead end so they came crawling to Bruce and me. As usual. When Bruce realised who the victims were, he sent me to find you."

Dick's gaze met Abby's and a frown pulled at his brow before his eyes trailed back to the pictures and a piece of the puzzle fell into place in his head.

Barely a minute later saw them in the "Batroom" (as dubbed by Ava) hidden in the back of the safehouse. Dick was planted in one of the chairs, hands hovering over the keyboard, and Abby at his shoulder, waiting expectantly. Ava was leant against the desk adjacent to them and judging from her frustrated mumbling, Jason was annoying her.

It only took a moment for Abby to realise Dick didn't know what credentials to enter into the Wayne Enterprises account — or, more accurately, he knew they had changed since he last logged in. A swell of empathy turned her mouth downwards.

He sighed, before glancing over his shoulder. "You mind?"

Jason looked up from where he was kicking Ava's foot with his own, much to the blonde's chagrin, and shrugged with a smirk. "Sure thing."

He slid past his predecessor, swiftly typing in the passcode and opening the software. Dick took back over immediately, inputting Atlas the Strongman into the search bar and watching Bruce's systems scour its internal database. Even now, scenes like this didn't leave Abby in awe. Green Arrow's operated similarly, and she'd seen it in use plenty of times.

A set of images loaded almost immediately, coupled with various information regarding their subject. Abby soaked in what she could from a quick glance.

"Phone bill paid last month, utilities on," Dick murmured aloud, relieved, "Looks like he's alive."

"At least one thing's going our way," Abby mused, watching Dick pull out his phone and dial the number on the screen. She heard it go to voicemail and grimaced.

He didn't seem at all discouraged. "Milwaukee's only an hour and a half from here. I gotta go make sure he's safe."

"We're going on a roadtrip," Jason grinned, "Excellent!"

"Not us. Me," Dick amended, "Look, I appreciate you bringing this to me. I really do. But there is no reason for you to come. This is personal. Your Bruce's Robin, not mine."

Abby's eyebrow quirked and she bit back a scoff. As if she would just sit around in some safehouse and not help.

"No," Jason denied, eyes set, "I'm my Robin."

Dick blinked. "I don't need your help."

"You did back at that apartment," Jason reminded snidely.

Dick scoffed. "Abby and I had that perfectly under control."

"Didn't look li—."

"Will both of you shut the fuck up?" Abby cut in, "We'll all go. Ava can stay and watch Dr Evil until Noah and Rachel arrive. That okay? Good. Move."

There was a unified grumble of begrudging agreement, Ava scowling at being left behind, as the two teenagers ambled off. Abby grabbed Dick's arm as he moved past her, her touch lingering as she looked to find his gaze on the floor.

"I know you don't like it. Like him or the idea of him or the fact that he's here, but he is. And we need all the help we can get right now," Abby said softly, tilting her head to look at his face. "It's just me and you, Dick. And normally that's all we'd need, but I'm not gonna be much help in my current state if we end up in a fist fight. So, for now, suffer him, okay? Just whilst we check on your friend. Then we can throw him in the trunk and send him back with Ava."

Dick chuckled lightly, lofting his head to meet her eyes. "Soon as we're back?"

"The minute we step out of the elevator," Abby smiled.

"I'll hold you to that," Dick warned, falling into step beside her as she moved towards the door.

"Of course you will," Abby replied dryly.

Dick brushed his shoulder against her uninjured one. "Hey, it could be worse. I mean imagine if Bruce had asked Ollie to send Roy."

"He sent Ava, dipshit."

"But what if they'd sent Roy."

"Then it would be me passed out in the shower not Adamson — will you hurry up and get through the door?"

She rolled her eyes at his amused snicker, putting the warmth blossoming in her chest down to her bullet wound. She'd promised herself she wouldn't get hurt, not again. She'd be a fool to let it happen twice. So why was it so easy to fall back into their old ways? Maybe the ties that bound her to Dick Grayson really were unbreakable. But if they weren't, did she really want to know what it would take to shatter them?

NOTE!
good evening good morning good day I AM FUCKING BACK!!! welcome welcome, im back to feed you dickabs angst and poor plotlines!! i'm so sorry for vanishing. that was shit of me. i kept you all waiting and it was not cool. but i hope to see some of you come back, and i hope even more so that any of you who do see this have enjoyed the chapter!

there's some changes having been made to HD; i've redone the soundtrack (lockdown made my music taste go 📈📈) and i've rethought parts of the arc which means certain plot points are gonna change direction from here out. mostly nora and noah's plotlines. maybe some other shit. fingers crossed they work!!

also ,,,, the way 1.5K of this was solely dickabs content 😗👉👈 ANYWAY, leave your thoughts + i'll make sure to update soon! <33