Do You Trust Me? •~|~•Nightwing Fanfict•~|~• (Read Desc)

4

"Mother's killer?'" Dick repeated with the question showing in his tone and becoming a confused gleam in his eyes.

"Didn't I tell you?" I asked, mostly to myself, "He is the reason my mom's dead. She found out she was pregnant with another a year or so after I was born. It wasn't Joker' so, in a fit of rage at her betrayal, he ended up beating her hard enough the baby didn't make it. He never wanted another after me as it was 'cause I was 'a handful' in his eyes. The loss of her second child drove her mad with depression and she killed herself."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dick sympathized, "Did you at least find out the father of the second child?"

"Batman was the father," I stated shamelessly with a shrug, "That's also why Joker threw a fit."

"You know, you don't have to call him 'Joker'. You can call him dad," he said before pausing to really digest the information I gave him on my life; the most I had ever shared with anyone.

"I never really thought of Joker as my father. He never acted like one. He was more boss man than dad," I admitted before letting the silence officially settle.

I let him have his time to think. I was inwardly shocked at myself for being so open. I guess it's all part of the 'building trust' thing. I suppose, in my mind, I never really had to open up to anyone because the gang knew my life story. I grew up with the few that remained, but the new guys learned as they joined so it never came up in conversation. People knew the backstory of Dick Grayson as well. Ex acrobat who's parents were murdered, adopted by Bruce Wayne, all that jazz.

I felt a foreign feeling fill me at the trip down memory lane: sadness. I let it sit, trying to feel it out and gain a foundation for it's cause. It can't be because I never had a solid father figure. It never made me feel this bad. Then again, I never sat like this and talked about it or thought about it like this before. The ache in my chest made me want to cry but I refused the urge. I never cried about it before so I wasn't going to start now. Yet, my vision still blurred slightly as I looked at the ground to blink away the growing tears. I'm not allowed to cry. I couldn't. Not after being unaffected for so long.

"I never thought I would be one to ask this but..," Dick trailed of, his eyes now boring holes into me, "Are you okay?"

I could tell it wasn't the question he wanted to ask but I also heard the sincerity in the question he asked. It confused me until I figured out why. I had barely noticed Bitewing padding nervously towards me. I felt the hot tears of my cheek and I cursed under my breath. Wiping my face, I put on a smile and looked at the hero sitting across from me.

"I'm fine. Just.. Never really thought about all this, y'know," I told him with a strained laugh, "I've never opened up about my dislike for Joker."

"Then why did you take up his mantle?" Dick wondered, "Why do you strive to become him?"

"I never intended to, honestly. I was hoping to rebrand the Jokerz gang and reverse the affect Joker had. But I never got it right and ended up deciding to do what he did best: cause chaos in the most hilarious way."

I shrugged and decided to try to lighten the mood. I was getting sick of talking about my life as it was and I already hated myself for crying about something so miniscule.

"Anyway, that's my sob story," I chimed, "What about you? Are there any stories behind the mask that I don't know about?"

"Nova," Dick breathed, giving me a look full of heartfelt pity; a look that made me stop but also one that made me want to shrivel up and hide, "You don't have to live in Joker's shadow."

As much as I enjoyed hearing him say my name, I felt partial offense at his words. I felt a little called out but at the same time, wasn't he living up to what the bat taught him to be?

"You say that like you're not living in Batman's shadow," I commented, not meaning to be bitter but hearing it in my words.

"I don't. I do my own thing. Batman knows that and he respects it to the best of his ability," Dick retorted, "Why don't you try doing your own thing?"

"I tried doing my 'own thing' and it didn't work out," I sighed, "being a good guy didn't work out."

"What if I helped you?" he suggested, "I've been told I was a good teacher."

"Oh really?" I wondered, raising my brow in mock confusion, "A good teacher in what respect?"

"There's a few fields I cover but for now let's stick to being a good guy teacher," Dick said with a knowing smile.

I rolled my eyes and huffed out a tiny laugh and felt my mood lift a tad. I could only imagine what he meant by 'a few fields' but I left that up to my imagination and didn't dare question it further. Seeing my more positive uptake, I watched as Dick stood. Bitewing, I saw, leapt off the couch and stood by her owners ankles, wagging her tail.

"If we work together, I'm sure you'll be a good guy in no time," he continued, holding out his hand.

"Well, I definitely wouldn't be able to do it myself," I joked while taking his hand, "Maybe we'll make a good team."

"I think we'll make do," Dick assured as we shared a firm shake before letting our hands fall slack to our sides, "And how's your side?"

"It doesn't bother me too much. Just kinda aches a bit," I told him, subconsciously placing my hand over my bandaged gun wound.

"How about you let me check it," he said, "You've been moving around and I need to be sure it didn't reopen."

"Sure," I agreed with a shrug, "And then I'm going to sleep some more."

"I know what you mean," Dick sighed, "I can take you back to Gotham later, if you want."

"Whatever you feel best. Though, if I'm going to be taught to 'be a goof guy' I'll probably need to stay here," I said, "It's best I'm thought dead back in Gotham. It'll keep trouble down."

"Probably," Dick agreed, shrugging, "Now lay on the couch so I can check you out."

"You want to look at me that bad, huh?" I teased, doing as he said nonetheless.

The escrima sticks that were beside him were placed on his pack on his back and he lifted my shirt, giving me a "har har" while he did so. He pulled off the gauze on my wound as observed the hole left behind by the bullet.

"I did save the bullet if you wanted as, you know, a souvenir," Dick told me, sparing me a glace before looking back at the hole in my side, "You're lucky there wasn't any internal damage. It should heal nice but seeing as I'm not the best medic out there, it might scar."

"I don't mind scars. They're kinda sexy," I admitted, watching him pull the gauze off my skin entirely.