WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA.
2018
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IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT, EVERY hospital in the world was just a purgatory for fallen souls standing on the brink of life and death. In one room, a mother delivering her first child; while in another, one who lost hers to a battle against Death itself. One unpredictable room was either producing life—or ending it.
She's forgotten who had told her that—maybe it was that stranger from one of the many bars Stacey had dragged her to—but either way, that comparison was part of the reason why hospitals irked Estela so much. For all she knew, the very room she had just come out of was the same one where some poor person had died.
The events from the last few hours flashed in her mind blurred at the edges, making them almost forgettable when Estela woke up with a nasty gash on her temple. She barely remembered how they got off the roof, or the car ride to the hospital; she hadn't even realized that Rachel was missing.
Everything only came hitting her all at once when the doctor finished patching up her temple with a gauze—even going as far as to place some butterfly bandages on her split cheek—and Dick rose from his chair to ask her if she was okay.
He half expected her to shout and pin the blame on for everything that happened, but the first words that escaped Estela's mouth was, "Where's Dawn?" So Dick silently led her to the ICU, the two of them standing outside in silence as they watched the machines monitor their friend's lifeline.
"You're lucky that you didn't get a concussion," the doctor had told her. The comment seemed like such a minuscule problem compared to Dawn's comatose state.
Hank was seated on a chair beside the bed, eyes solely focused on Dawn's rising chest. Even from meters away, Estela could see the dark circles that began taking form under his eyes. How many hours had passed since the fight?
Estela was still wearing her suit with Dick's jacket, which should have received some odd glances but the passing nurses their way just acted indifferent to her get up—even when they had seen the dried blood that crusted under her fingernails.
She let her mind drift back to a few hours ago, the reality of events hitting her with the force of a ten-wheeler truck. Her fight with the guys at the warehouse, the uncanny resilience of that cereal-packet family, and when she used her powers—Estela thought about it all while she kept her eyes on Dawn, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip worriedly.
Dick was standing beside her too, worry also brewing in his chest. But it couldn't compared to the panic that gripped him in the balls when he saw Estela unconscious on the roof. For a split second, he pictured her in Dawn's place. Pale and unresponsive on the hospital bed, multiple wires and machines hooked to her body; the image was enough for him to almost break down.
Guilt was a constant threat behind his back, a messenger that continuously hissed insults and self-deprecating comments in his ear. Yet despite it's hostility, Dick welcomed it. Because he promised to help Rachel, but he didn't, and now his friend was hurt due to his selfishness to include them too.
First Estela and Rachel, now Dawn and Hank. How many more people do you have to hurt, Dick?
"It's not your fault," Estela murmured without looking at him.
He didn't ask how she knew what he was thinking about, and merely mumbled, "I led them here, Stel. I brought the fight to them."
"But you didn't hurt Dawn. It's not your fault," she repeated.
He sighed and looked down, knowing that when it came to Estela knowing she was right about something, her persistence stayed until everyone gave in to agree with her in the end. So Dick stepped closer, their shoulders almost touching, and changed the subject.
"You didn't tell me you stopped using them."
Estela blinked; the only evidence of surprise she showed him. "I thought it was pretty obvious. When I quit so did Blizz and her powers."
Finally, she looked up at him and asked, "How'd you find out anyway?"
She told herself to forget about what happened before the fight; forget about the letter and the though of him leaving again when she just got him back. There were bigger things at risk than her pathetic feelings.
"I saw your face. . ." Dick told her after a while, his brown eyes lingering on her injured cheek with a frown, "before I fell off the roof. It was like you were shocked to see them again, and I've never seen you like that before—not since the first night I saw you."
Estela nodded slowly before looking away, letting the silence fill the void for the two of them.
"You know, it's funny." Her voice was so quiet, almost like she was scared to wake the wandering spirits nearby. "When I went down to help you guys it didn't even occur to me if I still remembered how to fight. It sort of just. . .came back to me. The training, the moves—muscle memory and instincts, I guess."
"Like your powers."
Estela bit her lip and shook her head carefully, suddenly overwhelmed with everything as tears started to cloud her vision. She looked up at Dick for a split second, an uncomfortable lump in her throat.
"I didn't mean to bring them out tonight," she said, her voice cracking on the last word.
"Hey. Hey, hey—look at me." Dick took his hands out of his pockets and grabbed her shoulders gently, rubbing soothing circles on them as he did so. He watched as she furiously wiped at her eyes with a scowl on her lips, his own face softening at the sight of her flushed cheeks and nose.
Estela aggressively swiped the last tear before looking at him expectantly. She was angry at herself for crying in the first place; annoyed with the way her tears easily sprung up. But whenever she was around Dick, acting like she got her shit together didn't feel like such a necessity anymore.
It was almost like Estela wasn't afraid of being vulnerable around him—and it scared her.
"You okay?" he asked her softly—too softly for her liking. "Those powers are yours, Stel. You're in control, remember?"
She sniffled shortly, a slight, angry pout on her face—which Dick honestly found so goddamn endearing—and begrudgingly nodded at him.
Deep down, Estela knew he was right. It was just going to take a long while to get accustomed to it all over again. She had done it before, she saw no reason as to why why she can't now.
"Sometimes there's just no time to be scared, right?" Dick told her with a semi-forced smile. "C'mon, where's the bitchy Ice Queen I know?"
Estela rolled her eyes and slapped his arms playfully. "Ugh, you just ruined our moment, birdbrain."
Dick merely smiled with content, relief flooding his veins at when she didn't try to push him away. A small cheer of victory sounded in his brain; a small sliver of success, even if it was just comforting Estela.
"I'm gonna kill them," she said calmly, glancing back to Dawn. Dick reckoned she was referring to the psychotic family-of-four from earlier.
"We need to find them first," He reminded, giving her a pointed look. "We should actually start looking. Find a lead—"
Beside them, the door of the ICU ward swung open with a small creak. Estela and Dick turned around, the latter faltering as he saw Hank walking towards them with his jaw set in place.
He opened his mouth. "Hank, I'm sorry. If I hadn't—"
"Who were they?" he asked lowly. "What the hell do they want with Rachel?"
Dick and Estela exchanged looks. "We don't really know yet," she said with a sigh.
A muscle feathered in Hank's jaw; one of the signs Estela knew about him whenever he was agitated.
"You take care of her," said Dick regarding Dawn. "We will find them."
Hank only nodded, seeming to look everywhere except into their eyes.
Estela frowned. As much as Hank tried to look okay, she knew that it was only a facade to cover up how the man really felt. She could tell that he cared about Dawn incredibly.
"Hey," she said softly and placed a hand on his arm, "she's gonna be okay. Dawn's strong. You and I both know that."
Hank nodded again, but this time pulled Estela into another quick hug. From behind her, she heard Dick's phone ring and a mumble about being-right-back a second later.
"Take care of her, okay," she said when they pulled away. "And don't forget about yourself too, big guy."
"Don't worry about me, Stela, I can handle myself," said Hank gruffly.
"You sure about that?" she teased lightly with a raised brow.
He managed a weak smile. "You take care out there, too. The next time I see you, you better not be inside a body bag."
"No promises." Estela said with a smile. "Call me if anything comes up, okay?"
He nodded one last time and went back inside the ICU, just in time for Estela to hear Dick's footsteps as he jogged towards her.
"They found her," he said.
Judging from the evident frown on his lips, that didn't even look like the good news.
"Oh no," Estela said quietly, "you have the you're-not-gonna-like-what-I'm-about-to-tell-you face on."
Dick flashed her a quick sarcastic smile. "They found her," he repeated. "But she's not alone."
Estela blinked. "You mean she's with that bat-shit crazy family."
"No. Someone else—a woman—who apparently broke into Rachel's house earlier this morning."
Well shit. "Okay. . .you think she's gonna be another threat?"
Dick shot her a grim look. "That's what we're about to find out."
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OHIO.
FIVE HOURS LATER
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THERE WASN'T MUCH FROM the lead to start with but from what Dick managed to gather, his and Estela's next destination was at a gas station in the furthest edge of Ohio.
With their things packed and loaded in the Porche's trunk again—and Estela in a new set of clothes, finally—it was another silent car ride with the same snowy view every three-sixty degree turn their heads made.
They left Washington in the early hours of the morning, finally arriving at their designated gas station at around nine in the morning. And from what Estela saw, the place was already under investigation.
Multiple police officers were walking around, inspecting the area or taking notes from witnesses. The coroner's van was parked right under the pillar that held the gas station's billboard sign, and two men were taking out a stretcher with a body bag folded on top.
For a split second, Estela almost whirled and asked Dick how the hell they were going to be let inside. The question died in her throat, however, upon realizing that the man beside her was literally a detective.
"Is this normal?" Estela asked him, raising her brows at the amount of people in uniform walking about as he parked the car adjacent to the coroner's van.
"Not unless there's a real problem," he replied before unbuckling his seatbelt. "Stay in the car." The door shut before Estela could utter a word.
Her jaw dropped as he pulled out his badge, allowing himself entrance with ease.
"Like hell I will," she snapped before opening the car door and rushing after him. She gave a cold glare to the cop that tried to stop her, and hoped that he made the connection between her and Dick as she marched after him, boots crunching against the snow.
Estela found him standing in front of the public toilets—or what was left of it.
"Holy shit," she said, and halted right beside him.
There was a big hole, probably the size of a killer whale's mouth, and a ring of black soot formed at its edges. A sharp smell entered her nostrils, making her crinkle her nose; it smelled exactly like how her food did whenever she burnt them, but there was no fire in sight.
"I think the question you're looking for is: Rachel? Or that woman?" Estela spoke, still staring at the chunks of concrete that were emitting tendrils of smoke upwards.
"You think Rachel would do something like this?" It was a genuine question, Estela could tell.
She pursed her lips. "My gut tells me no—and you know that my gut—"
"Is always right, yes," Dick interrupted, "go on."
She shot him an irritated glare. "As I was saying—when Rachel broke those windows in their apartment she didn't leave any burn marks behind." Estela looked back at the damage, feeling unease settle in her tummy. "Unless she has some other powers we don't know about, I don't think this was Rachel."
Dick was only half listening to what she was saying, his attention was solely focused on the solid body bag the two coroners were carrying on the stretcher.
"Come on," he merely said.
Estela followed after him, the uneasiness growing once they were close enough to the body to take a look. If you glanced past too quickly, you'd miss it entirely. She wasn't even sure you could call it a body anymore. Science and forensics weren't her forte, but she was sure that gathering DNA samples from it deemed to be an impossible task.
"Welcome to Pompeii," she mumbled to Dick as her eyes stuck glued to the charred; burned-to-a-complete-black; completely barbecued; all of the fucking above, body.
"Let's go," he mumbled back, putting a hand on her back to steer her away.
Dick led Estela and himself into the gas station as nonchalantly as possible, making their way towards the office holding the main security footage. Estela stood by the door to keep watch whilst Dick downloaded the video into his USB—courtesy of their billionaire, superhero guardian.
The walk back to the car was a silent one. Once they were inside, Dick took out a small tablet from the glove compartment and installed the USB in. Estela was playing with the zipper of her leather jacket anxiously as she waited.
"Here." Dick leaned over the console and held the tablet up for Estela to see. She leaned in, her face so close to his that he couldn't help but sigh internally at the addicting smell of jasmine; she always smelled like jasmine.
"There she is," Estela said, pointing to the two figures against the white backdrop of the snow—Rachel and a tall, dark-skinned woman with bright magenta hair.
"Wow—I love her boots," she mumbled.
Dick suppressed a smile and tapped the screen twice, pausing and zooming the video to see the license plate on the car they just got in.
"I think. . ." he started, as he used one of Bruce's satellites to find the car's current location, ". . .we just found our second lead."
And even if that should have been good news, Dick couldn't stop the soft, frustrated sigh leave his lips as he rubbed his eyes soothingly.
Estela frowned. "Alright, get out," she told him, "I'm driving again."
"No—"
"Dick," she interrupted, "you've been on the wheel for five hours straight. You've been awake for longer; you haven't gotten a single shut eye since the other night. Seriously, you look like you're about to collapse."
"Stel, I'm fine—"
She groaned before giving him a pleading look. "Please? C'mon, just— just let me help you."
Dick's face softened at her tone, memories surging up like a geyser as he took in the furrow of her brows and the begging in her tone. He had seen that face before, heard that tone before—when he was sitting shirtless and bloody on his bed, her cold fingertips grazing his chest as she worked.
"Do you even know how to stitch someone up?" he had asked her.
"Alfred taught me the basics. And—hey, I had to stitch myself up some nights too."
"So, like, are you my nurse now?"
"If you want me to be." Then she looked up at him, and gave a smirk that sent his heart fluttering.
"I'll let you stitch me up if you let me help you too."
"Deal."
With a sigh bringing him back the present, Dick nodded and got out of the car, feeling the ghost of her fingers on him along with the butterflies she had left in its wake.
DICK IMMEDIATELY DOZE OFF in the passenger's seat as soon as Estela's foot stepped on the pedal, leaving her in a silence that she filled by plugging her phone in the aux and played a random playlist from her Spotify.
She took short glances at him from time to time—which was rather creepy on her part, but she didn't really care. He was finally resting, that's all that mattered.
Yet it shocked her how easy it was to fall back into old habits. First, fighting and donning her old suit; unleashing her powers on the not-so-innocents; and now, caring about Dick Grayson all over again.
You never really stopped.
Deep down she knew that her and Dick's red string of fate hadn't been severed at all. Only stretched further and further apart, until the pull couldn't take it anymore and snapped the two of them back together; back to each other. But as much as fate wanted it, Estela knew it was an impossible thing, considering how their lives were always on the line, and they never really got past the boundary of best friends.
And after everything that happened, she didn't even know what solid ground their relationship stood on.
Beside her, Dick let out a small groan—a sign that he was stirring awake—and shifted slightly on his seat. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to his surroundings as a familiar beat drifted to his ears.
"A walk down memory lane, huh?" he asked aloud, voice still groggy with sleep.
Estela stole a quick glimpse at him with a questioning frown. He jerked his chin towards the radio, and her eyes followed in suit, reading the title of the song that was currently playing lowly. She hadn't even realized it was playing, having been too lost in her own thoughts to listen.
"God, I haven't heard this song in so long," she said with a chuckle, turning her eyes back on the long stretch of road.
"Really?" said Dick, slouching further on his seat to find a more comfortable position. "I listen to it every Saturday. Preferably in the shower." It was a lie, but he savored the sly smile that caught her lips.
"Why?" Estela snorted, then said without even thinking, "Reminiscing our first slow dance together?"
It was meant to be a joke—supposed to be a joke that Dick shouldn't have taken seriously.
So it surprised Estela when he said, "Yeah. Yeah, actually. I do."
She looked back at him with wide eyes, unable to help her genuine reaction towards his boldness. Dick was already staring back at her, hands folded on top of his chest as he peered up at her through his lashes.
They were so open—his eyes. So honest and easy for her to read, almost like he didn't balk or didn't care if she knew their true intent. His gaze alone felt like the calloused hands that have been on her waist; her head resting on his toned chest.
Estela looked away with a nervous chuckle, mentally slapping herself repeatedly on the face.
Dick didn't back down just yet. He was still looking at her with a small smile.
"Shut up," Estela said, her tone a bit playful as she hid the giddy grin with a bite of her lip.
"I didn't say anything!" he protested with a chuckle.
She didn't dare look back. Because if she did, she knew her heart probably wouldn't take it.
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dear readers !
such a late chapter i am so sorry!! but sooo much stel and dick content hehehe
i love them sm
also guys plsss don't be a ghost reader ;< fun fact i love reading comments like o rlly do . ik some ppl can be real creative with their comments and it makes my day sm some of yall real comedians out there
so pretty please vote and comment (??) 🙈
— seph <3
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© cherrymalfoys