Closer Than Your Shadow

Carry Me Home

December 9th 11:02 p.m.
Gotham
Forest Surrounding Ace Chem.

"Ughhh," Dick groaned as we pushed through the small opening in the chain-link fence. Twigs and branches snapped under our feet, but we could still hear Natasha screaming.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. How much farther?" I rushed.

"A few more yards out," he answered with sparce breath. "You didn't leave."

"I couldn't leave you." His arm was over my shoulder and our sides were pushed together. I trembled under his weight while we stumbled farther into the woods surrounding the factory.

"You killed Dom," his voice scrambler was still on, and it made me want to smash it against a fucking tree.

"I did what I had too. I already know who you are, so will you turn that shit off!"

"You shouldn't have-," His voice was brittle but finally his, way more than any other time I've heard it.

"Don't fucking start," I growled as I pulled his arm tighter around my neck. He cursed.

"I stopped fighting," he looked at me like he just told me the world was ending. He wanted me to understand, but I couldn't.

The rain was barely coming down anymore, but the cold was bitter. It was slowing us.

We came up on a clearing of trees and a black car was parked next to a dirt road. His body was starting to depend on me less and less. Once we got to the front of his car, his palm slammed down on the hood. He tried to hold himself up, but I could see his arm trembling.

"I can drive. Get in the car," He commanded.

"You can't drive like that. You can barely walk!" He reached for the door, but I grabbed his wrist and pulled it back. "Stop! You're just going to hurt yourself more. Dom said it'll wear off, but you have to wait."

He groaned and stumbled to the passenger side.

"Maybe you should lie in the back."

"I'm sitting in the front."

Honestly, I hated driving. It was too much control over something so deadly.

Plus I wasn't going to lie; I barely passed my driver's test when I was 16. It didn't help that I could count the times I'd driven the highway on one hand, but I'd never admit that to him.

"You need a doctor."

"I'm fine," he shrugged me off.

"You got shot." I moved the gearshift and slammed my foot on the gas while we tore past oak trees.

"It went straight through. Just focus on driving." He cautioned with wide eyes as we swerved onto a paved road.

"I'm taking you to a hospital!" I snapped.

"No. We're going to your apartment and you're leaving Gotham! End of discussion!" Dick said through ragged breaths.

"Don't order me around! You need fucking help!"

"I'll get it when you're gone! It's not up for a debate!" He shouted and I flinched back at his outburst.

He cringed either at the pain or at the way he made me cower down to him. The tires screeched against the asphalt when I yanked the wheel to the left. Back towards Gotham.

I went 70 down main streets. Car's honked and I got flipped off, but I didn't care.

We weren't talking. There wasn't any music playing. It was just us in the silence of what happened.