Maribat One-Shots

His Mouse- Dickinette

Mouse smiles sadly before slowly pulling her hand away, "Later Wing."

***

It's another quiet night, and Wing waits for her. Atop of their building, keeping an ear out for trouble and another one out for her.

Finally, the hue of her portal shines. "What took you so long?" he jokes, turning around. He freezes at the sight, her hair unraveled and her suit torn. Her legs shake as she stumbles towards him, and her knees give out before she can reach him. "Mouse!" he shouts, running to catch her. "Hey Wing," she mumbles back.

"Don't 'Hey Wing' me, what happened? And don't you dare say Guardian magical junk. You know I hate that," Nightwing says as he brings both of them to the ground, caressing her face and moving her hair away from her eyes. Mouse laughs before coughing, "Fine, it was boring magical crap." He scowls at her, causing another fit of giggles from the mouse.

"Just answer me this. Will you be okay?" "Yeah, just sit with me. My suit will fix itself once I'm healed up." Nightwing sighs before laying down and pulling the mouse on top of his chest. "Fine, next time, can I please get an answer?" "Depends on the question."

"Alright, favorite color?" "Really?" "Yeah, favorite color." "Pink, but not like a hot pink, but like a light blush pink. You?" "Blue."

"That is so weirdly you, blue, so basic." She giggles, reaching a hand up to comb through his hair and staring at his mask. "You know, I could imagine you with blue eyes, not blue like mine, but like a softer blue." "Really? I wouldn't mind having your eyes; they're so bright." He says, playing with her hair and staring into her eyes, memorizing all the different hues that seem to dance in them. She hummed before laying her head against his chest, listening to his heart. The steady beat almost lulls her to sleep, but his warmth isn't enough against the cold.

Eventually, Pocket Mouse gets up and lies next to Nightwing, hands brushing against each other. "Can I ask another question?" Nightwing asks, finally breaking the silence "Sure, but you know that doesn't mean you'll get an answer." She says, turning to look at him with mirth in her eyes. "What happened to your team?"

She freezes before turning her head to look at the sky. It's dark, with not a single star in the sky, and there's nothing to wish on. "I ruined their lives," she sighs out. "There were eight of us, and I was the leader and was using a different name back then." Her voice sounds broken.

"You know how when you started this whole thing, you had Batman?" "Yeah?" "Well, at first, it was just me and another person, Ladybug and Chat Noir, against the world." An unreadable expression reaches her face as she remembers the past.

"We were both what 13/14 when we started with no training, guidance, or anyone to help us if we failed. It was so lonely; we couldn't tell each other our secret identities. There were some nights where all I wanted to do was cry, but if I did, that would mean I had to admit I was sad."

"Why couldn't you be sad?" Nightwing asks, finally turning to look at Pocket Mouse. "My villain, Hawkmoth, preyed on negative emotions. If I felt sad, I'd be turned into a monster under his control, and then no one could turn me back." Nightwing nods before turning to look back at the sky.

"Anyway, eventually, I added more heroes to help me: Honey Bee, Red Dragon, Serpent, Pegasus, Monkey King, and White Rabbit. They helped, but it ruined their lives.

For Honey Bee, it ruined her already rocky relationship with her parents; the same goes for Red Dragon. Serpent broke down emotionally and had to be sent to a psych ward when it all ended. Pegasus was so focused on helping he started falling behind in school and lost his chance to come here to America on a full scholarship.

Monkey King was grounded most of the time because he was always gone and behind in school. Finally, White Rabbit, she, ummm, ended up taking her life. She wanted to go down in history as someone important. Now the world will only know one part of her life, the side she hated the most."

By now, Mouse is tearing up, but they never fall. "Can I ask what happened to Chat Noir?" "Yeah," she said, taking a deep breath before closing her eyes. "He died in battle protecting me. He'd done that before, so he was certain it wouldn't be permanent. I'd bring him back like I normally did, yet when I called the magic words, everything came back; everyone came back but him. I don't know who mourned his death more, me or Hawkmoth, turned out he was Chat's father."

Nightwing's face is unreadable, maybe sad. He doesn't say anything as he brings Mouse back to his chest, holding her close. In these moments, he hates magic because he knows the calming set of clean lenin he is breathing in isn't really her. He also hates magic because it makes his mouse suffer. It's the reason she is crying right now and the reason she really isn't his.

She can never be his because the magic takes all of her and leaves nothing for others, especially him. The magic that is slowly killing her over and over again, the one that only takes and never gives. The magic that took her past, present, and future, the one draining her every smile. "God, I hate magic." He whispers now that his mouse is finally asleep.