Arranged Marriage - Distance (A Nightwing/Dick Grayson Fanfiction)

Forty Six: Early Onset Death Wishes

Cleo looks far too drained to do much but go straight to bed. When they get into her apartment, she spends less than a minute looking around to see what has changed. It's obvious some of the kids had been there, thanks to the minute rubbish left around.

"Assholes," she mutters.

Dick follows her to the bedroom. She's distressed, but he knows it has nothing to do with him. She tosses her bag on the bed and tugs her jacket off roughly.

"Hey," he says softly, stopping behind her, "Let me."

She doesn't fight him, though at this point in the relationship she rarely does. Before there would have been a façade up. She would have wriggled away from him, instead of settling as he peels off her jacket gently and kisses her shoulder.

He wraps his arms around her from behind. Cleo places her hands on them and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath.

There is always something there in her body when they are close. A warning of how powerful she is, like untapped instincts sensing her strength, the dangers. She runs hot and he feels her often coiled muscles calm slowly beneath his hands.

"Why did we come here? We should have just stayed in Gotham."

It's awful how that statement makes him feel. Happy, because he was sure she hated Gotham enough to decline going back.

"It's your home," is all he says.

She laughs, dismissively, then moves from his grasp. She stalks towards the floor-ceiling windows.

"I didn't want to come back last time either."

Realising he's about to get another rare glimpse into his guarded wife, he follows her.

"Last time?" He treads carefully.

She hums, "After the Marines."

They stand shoulder to shoulder looking upon the city. It's a far shinier sight than Gotham, but they both agree there is something less regal about it. Trading the gothic arches and ruling sharp points for cheap modern art donning the roof of every building.

It isn't ugly, but it hardly inspires.

"See that cliff over there?" She points to the very edge of the coast visible to them. Dick nods. "When I was seven, I jumped off it, hoping I'd die."

His body goes cold. When he looks at her, panicked, she is oddly calm and emotionless.

"It's funny isn't it?" She smirks. It only furthers his concern. Does he reach for her? Tell her he's sorry? "A girl who has everything trying to end her life so young."

"You-" The need to comfort bubbles up inside him and he tries to speak, but can't get any words out. Sorry doesn't fit. Not yet. And besides, he doesn't want to discourage her from letting this all out.

"I imagine that's what my parents thought when the family physician diagnosed me. They argued against him, fired him and hired a new one who had the exact same conclusion. They got outside opinions, did their own research and no matter what, refused to acknowledge that I was completely and utterly depressed."

His heart aches, watching the confession pour from her completely blank face. He still doesn't touch her, afraid of spooking her.

"They showered me with gifts. A horse, a car I couldn't drive, a letter from Holly Marie Combs, trips to Disneyland. It didn't seem to sink in until I was eight. I just...didn't care anymore."

She moves then, head turning, eyes shifting to the other window. Dick watches her move towards it slowly but doesn't follow. There, she has a better view of the ocean.