◇°•》 Đeath ₩idow 《•°◇

《 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙃 》

Dick knows the Titans hurt her deeper than most would think -- he knows he hurt her more than he would think. Hell, he was too blind to even consider the possibility that Larke might've just cared slightly for everyone there.

And now she moved to Gotham, of all places. The Queen of Crime she's heard, from whom she doesn't know the specifics of, accept it came from someone Jason knew.

But with the Queen comes the King -- who doesn't wear a crown by the way. Instead, he wears a bat costume, and rides around the city beating the shut out of people; anyone from petty criminals who might just be trying to get past tonight, let alone tomorrow, to the Prince of Crime himself, the Joker.

But Larke did all of that for him - she moved to Gotham and stuck with him for him. So he would be happy. And if Jason was happy, then she was too. And vice versa, as he made it his number one job to keep her happy, protected, and free from anyone and everyone -- people like the Joker, even though Jason knew full well of how capable Larke Kingsman was.

Hell, he didn't know even an eigth of how capable she was at taking care of herself, but he knew enough to know to also keep his distance at times, as she'd been confined to orders, files, and chambers her whole life.

He made sure to give her a whole room to herself, and she could come and go from the Manor as she pleased, preferably sleeping in her room - the one he picked out for her, as he told her it, "had the best matress," - or, of course, she was always allowed in his room.

He kept his slightly more neat and tidy than if she wasn't there and she knew it, but never said anything. She understood that, as he tried to be more like her, but the funny thing was, she tried to keep herself a little messy too.

Trying to be a more like him. Neither of them knew it.

But trying to break the system of always being spotless at all times, with nothing out of place, wasn't an easy feat, but she did it anyways.

"Dick?" The man turns his head, looking the girl in the eyes. She just barely kept her voice from cracking, and he knew it.

"Yeah, Larke, it's me, Dick,"

It's quiet again, as Larke's eyes start to become red, the tiny veins becoming clear, and her lower lip starts to tremble. Dick sees it, and before he can stop it, the tears start falling.

It's not a lot, just a couple from each side, but Dick knows just how meaningful they are. Larke never cries, let alone show emotions other than anger, confusion, and neutrality.

Sadness is not in the cards-- it's dried her up too much already. It turned her skin into desert cracks; dry, stiff, and unmoving. But fate only allows such a thing for so long -- also known as when she met Jason Todd. He molded her into a beautiful mosaic with a single touch as everyone watched it unfold, yet the boy saw her that way the first time he laid eyes on her.

But all mosaics can crumble to pieces, when just touched with water, specifically too much of it.

And Larke was shoved into an everdrowning riptide the second her dear Jason's name showed up on the television.

Her head dips, but Dick just goes for it. He leans forward in his seat, wrapping his arms around Larke quickly, and, surprisingly, she hugs him right back.

And then it's warm between the two of them, it's a nice comforting blanket that sheaths them away from the rest of the wicked world.

They stay like that, Larke resting her head on Dick's shoulder, Dick resting one hand on the back of her head while the other rubs her back in slow circles.

"It's okay, it's going to be okay," Dick murmurs, feeling hopeless on what to do.

Everything fell after his decision to... well, no.

Everything just fell.

And it's showing.

Larke Kingsman, an ex assassin for the League of Shadows, League of Assassins, and most recently League of Widows, trained partially by psychopath Slade Wilson, and has the power to drain her enemies life with a single touch, was crying.

Because the boy she felt the most safe with, the boy who made her heart open up to him, the boy who had his mind on her all day long, was dead.

And it was Dick's fault.

Well, that's what Dick thought was the answer. He thought Larke thought that too.

But what Larke thought, well- good Lord.

She knew from the second she saw the news of Jason who was to blame.

Her brain put the pieces together quickly, and she was going to do something about it right then, but seeing the mangled body on the television, that got her.

Now, she lets go of Dick, quickly swiping her tears off of her face. She looks away, as Dick furrows his brows, his eyes finding the floor.

It's a quiet, serene silence as they sit together, only thinking about one thing. One person is more like it.

It's the person who will haunt Larke's head for the rest of her life, as well as the famous Bruce Wayne's, alongside his counterpart Batman.

Not too long ago Batman and Larke were fighting, but bow, after moving to Gotham with Jason, they hashed it out and made an agreement to one another; don't murder one another while Jason's around.

And lets just say Jason rarely left Larke's side, accept when she asked for it. And if she asked for it, she usually went alone back to her room or out, to a grocery store or a coffee shop. Obviously neither Bruce nor Larke found a good time to kill one another, so it worked out quite well.

And now Bruce was M.I.A, Jason was dead, Dick was back living in Gotham, and Larke was stuck to find only one person to blame, besides herself of course.

He's the reason for Bruce, Jason's, and Dick's scenarios, as well as Larke's future one; he will and always will haunt Larke forever, like I said above.

If you didn't guess already who, then let me give you some more information, on the down low of course.

It's the man who Bruce Wayne is going to murder, the man who Larke is going to burn, the man who killed Jason.

The Joker.