HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ FEARLESS. ❞

STARS WEBBED ACROSS THE SKY LIKE SPIDER'S SILK. Delicate and silvery and glistening in the translucent light of the quicksilver moon. So fragile Abigail Lance feared they may fall apart if she tried to reach out and touch their light. So all she was doing was staring at them out her window, hoping the faint mercurial glow would reveal the answer she was dying to know. Had she made a mistake?

Thoughts were filling her head, exploding onto the shadows scattered across the walls like the stars beyond her glass pane. The same scenario, same conclusion. Same glaringly obvious truth, facts not even her anger and rage and relentless stubbornness could deny.

The brunette huffed, frustration and confusion making her brain feel sluggish and foggy, like she was wading through thick waters. She was made from restless winter winds and undying suns, an eternal curiosity that Star City alone could never quite quench. Sleep wasn't an option. The easy route had never been the road she travelled. With a groan, she rolled onto her back, head hitting the cushion behind it with a poof!

"I swear to fucking God, Abby." the annoyed, grouchy, and half muffled voice of Nora Black disrupted the girl's thoughts. "If you move one more fucking time, I will shove you so hard out of this bed you'll be sleeping with the people in the room beneath us."

Abby folded her hands in her stomach, twisting her head on the pillow to deliver a sour smile and dry wit to the girl beside her. "Charming."

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep," Nora grumbled.

The whites of her eyes flashed as Abby rolled her eyes, and she peeled back the duvet like a bandage, softly stepping out into the darkness of the room. The cold seemed to touch her skin more familiarly than the warmth of the bed did. Night suited her well, it always had.

Abby glanced to the clock, bones weary at the seemingly unmoving tjme of 01:12am and the brunette took a step towards the door, slipping her feet into the closet pair of shoes she could find. Pulling her arms tight around her body, a guard from the world, she let herself out of the motel room.

Cold ravaged her skin instantly. It seeped into her very bones and she hardly spared it a shiver. Icy nights were far from new to the brunette, she was made from steel forged in hot fires and the flames that burned there were difficult to extinguish. Kind of like the ones that still (how, she wasn't quite sure. She'll get back to you on that one...) felt more like an inferno at the sight of Dick Grayson.

Some people were inescapable. Some red threads of fate were so tightly intertwined, it was impossible to see where one ended and the other started. Some times you looked into someone's eyes and saw your best self. The self who, when you look at them, you know that you want to be that self they see you as — not just for you but for them, too.

And Abby Lance had never found someone she wanted to be more than the girl she found in Dick Grayson's brown irises.

"You gonna stare at that door forever?"

"That was the plan," Abby muttered, barely phased. "Was hoping it might burst into flames."

"Yeah it's looking kinda singed."

She turned to look at Noah Reyes, who was stood further down the corridor, bag of ice pressed against his cheek. The dark haired boy slowly approached, neither of them surprised to find the other still awake.

"You could just knock, y'know," Noah mused, stopping beside Abby.

"And make things easy?" Abby cast him a look, scoffing humorously, "What do you take me for? Normal?"

Noah frowned, false alarm spreading over his face, "I wouldn't dare."

Silence smothered them. Words felt like another language to Abby, and she could taste nothing but fear and regret and ash on her tongue. She hades uncertainty, but it was all she seemed to be left with as of late.

"I promise, he only bites when threatened." Noah grinned across at her, receiving a hard shove in response, stumbling to the side.

"Where's the Justice League when you need a hand," Abby grinned, not allowing herself another second of contemplation before she grabbed onto the door handle and barged straight into the motel room.

Coming to a halt in the middle of Noah and Dick's room, Abby's eyes eyes dragged up from the floor with her heartbeat in her ears. Her words were leaving her lips before her gaze settled on the sight before her. The half dressed and completely caught off guard sight of Dick Grayson.

Abby cut herself off, eyes practically popping from her skull as she snapped her line of sight to the wall beside herself, clearing her throat awkwardly as she began cursing frantically.

Dick seemed to have his breath caught in his throat, although a lopsided smile was beginning to form on his lips. He ran a bruised hand through his wet hair, his eyes alight, "Clearly you still don't know how to knock."

"Clearly you don't know what a shirt is," Abby muttered in a short response, glancing back at him in annoyance briefly, before looking away.

Enjoying the sight of her squirming, Dick leant back against the motel room's cabinets, folding his arms. "No no, I know what a shirt is."

Abby glared at him, clearing her throat again before squaring her shoulders and turning to face him, "Okay look I'm just gonna say it because I can't just leave it and I've been running this scenario over in my head like a fucking gazillion times and I keep getting the same answer and I —."

"I feel like you're getting to a point but I don't —," Dick began, interrupting her with a raised eyebrow and a prompting shake of his head.

"The point is I can't do this without you," Abby gushed. "I need you in this with me. I don't know how or why but I do. I can't get through this if you aren't by my side, Dick Grayson." Abby took a breath, staring at him for a moment, before her voice took on a more sarcastic tone. "Mostly because I think you're probably the only one who can still put up with my whiplash worthy mood swings. Okay?"

A smile was etched into his lips, crooked and warm and soft. His voice came out just as gentle. "Okay."

The two stared across the room at one another, eyes locked and unashamed and completely open. For the first time in days they looked each other without fear or weariness or pain, without a mask of some description. The same clarity they'd always seen each other with — the same clarity only they could see each other with.

"Great," Abby nodded, rocking on her heels, "Now let's go save our friends."

"Right now?" Dick questioned, glancing to the clock.

"Yes, right now, you were literally having a shower jus— not the point," Abby blurted, rolling her eyes and waving a hand at him, "Put some clothes on, Batboy!"

JESSICA RHODES WAS SCARED. Not that fear wasn't an emotion she felt a lot, in fact with her night time profession it was something she felt every time one of the team took longer than five seconds to reply to her nonsensical chatter. Even a sharp Jess was better than nothing. Hearing something meant she knew they were alive. Sound meant life. She considered noise safety.

Now she heard nothing.

Silence had been her only ally for the past day. The occasional glimmer of light or glow cast from a flickering artificial bulb. The world comprised of shadows and cold walls, and the inconsistent dripping of a loose pipe felt like it was slowly driving her insane.

But with allies came foes. She'd been left alone for now, but something told her the chair positioned in the middle of the room wasn't just for decorative purposes. She'd seen enough of how Batman's enemies operated to know she'd be sat in that chair before the day was up.

She laced her fingers together, fingertips tracing the bandages casing her hand. Her hair hung damp and wet, but she could still feel the scorching heat of the explosion on her skin like it was still burning.

The pink shirt she'd been wearing was crumbled and burnt, smeared in black charcoal and dried blood. Her stripy shirt was torn and straggled, jeans ripped and dirt stained. Jess knew, for once, her outward appearance was as much of a mess as she felt inside.

Abruptly the doors slid open, Jess jumping out of her skin as an older man appeared in the doorway.

"Miss Rhodes," the man greeted her warmly, stepping into the room, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm glad to see you in such good health. We were worried the damage would be irreparable, but it seems Miss Anders and Mister Logan took the brunt of the explosion."

"Where are they?" Jess demanded, her voice trembled, but she forced her tone to be strong.

The man chuckled, ignoring her, "I'm Dr Adamson. I'm sorry for any distress we've caused you, but whilst I'd simply love to have a lengthy chat, I've come here with a question."

Jess glared across the room at him, barely visible amongst the long shadows, and channeled all of the Dark Knight inside of her that she could. "You won't get an answer."

"I'm afraid that's just not going to do," Adamson sighed, stepping forwards, tone still calm and collected, "You see, you — and the others — have someone we are... looking for. Rachel Roth."

Jess wrapped her aching arms around her knees, trying to conserve what little body heat she still had. A reply never left her lips, never even breached her mind. She was stronger than that. Darkness may not run in her bones like it did Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, but Abigail Lance had proved just how effective stubbornness could be as an alternative to resilience.

"Not a talker?" Adamson enquired, not expecting a reply as he gestured to the camera in the corner of the room, "It's alright, we can help you with that."

Two men, clad in white scrubs, entered the room with malice in their stride. Jess didn't scramble or try to move — where was there to escape to? She couldn't scale walls, and she couldn't make them crumble with a flick of her wrist. But when she noticed a third man enter with a tray of glinting silver tools, panic settled into her veins.

As two sets of hands grabbed onto her arms, she began to struggle and fight back, feet slipping and skidding on the concrete floor in an attempt to prevent her reaching her final destination. The two men pulled her forwards regardless, Jess' yells and pleas falling on deaf ears as she hopelessly tried to tug her arms free.

Her scuffed boot planted firmly on the side of the chair, Jess using the power her legs could muster, straining pointlessly against the inevitable, flailing and scrabbling for any chance of another option. Her blood was electric, fuelled by sleep deprivation and adrenaline.

The third man grabbed onto her legs and in moments she was strapped to the chair. Her heart was pounding, cracking against her ribs so hard she expected it to burst free any moment. Her hands were trembling, breathing so shaky she could hear it in her ears. Her eyes stung, throat drying up, gaze fixed on the instruments beside her.

Adamson appeared at her side, his eyes trailing along the tools laid out on the tray with contemplation, like he was picking a meal from a menu. Salt corroded her ashen tongue, and she knew if she could, she'd have thrown up. And would've aimed for his shoes.

"I won't tell you anything," Jess whispered in a cracked voice, eyesight blurring as tears built up.

The elderly man grimaced almost regretfully at her. "That's very commendable of you, my dear. But I still need an answer to my question."

Jess clung to the bittersweet sliver of hope residing in her heart, her voice fearless just at the mere thought of it. "I won't help you. My friends will rescue me. They'll stop you."

"Don't worry," Adamson smiled politely, picking up a needle and turning to her, "Your friends will be joining us soon enough."

NOTE!
i meant to publish this sooner buT I GOT DISTRACTED BY SMALLVILLE S9 AND HOLY FUCK MAN I LOVE THAT SHOW SO MUCH I WAITED 5 SEASONS FOR LOIS AND CLARK BUT IT WAS WORTH IT

wow the next thing coming is my smallville fic like that's it i'm fucking writing lily lark and maya black in smallville jesus iM THRIVING. lily lark is making an appearance in this now i doNT MAKE THE RULES.

anyway, thoughts on this chapter?? yknow,,, what y'all actually came here to read 😭