NIGHTHAWK'S GOODBYE
-
GENRE
ANGST
-
WARNINGS
DEPICTIONS OF CHILD DEATH, MENTIONS OF ABUSE, DETAILED DYING
-
RELATIONSHIP
MARLIN BLACKWELL/THE MUSKETEER & SAMMY KYLE/NIGHTHAWK
~⛯~
Sammy stepped into the jewelry store. It was rather quiet, save for Spanish cursing.
"Marlin," the teen said quietly.
They were dressed like a civilian. Not Nighthawk, their vigilante alter-ego, but just Sammy.
Marlin jumped, in the middle of shoving a bejewelled dagger in a duffel bag. "Samantha," he said, dropping the bag as he stepped closer to his kid.
For a moment, father and child stared each other down. Finally, Marlin spoke.
"I don't wanna hurt you, kid. But I will if I have to."
Sammy's nose wrinkled. "You don't want to hurt me?" They took a step forward. "Is that why you hit me for asking to be enrolled in school?" Another step. "Why you slammed me into a wall and called me an ungrateful whore?"
Marlin took a step as well. "That was different, Samantha."
"Was it?" This was Sammy's plan. Distract Marlin long enough for backup to arrive. "You hurt me, Dad."
Marlin closed his eyes. "Shut up. It was to toughen you up," he snapped.
Sammy laughed. "Yeah. I so wasn't tough when I broke you out of Arkham."
Marlin turned away. "It was to toughen you up," he repeated. His hands were shaking now.
"You manipulated me," Sammy said. "You used me. You hit me, and hurt me, but you said you loved me." They stepped even closer. "And now, you're going back to Arkham."
The man grabbed something from his hip. A pistol. He pointed it at Sammy's head. "I'm not going back there," he hissed.
"Do it, Marlin," Sammy said. "Shoot me. Look into your child's eyes and shoot them. Have your baby's blood on your conscience."
They knew he wouldn't do it. Marlin was a lot of things, but he wouldn't kill his kid. His kid who'd lied and killed and stolen for him.
He was a lot of things, but he wasn't a child murderer.
Right?
Wrong.
The gunshot didn't register with Sammy until they were on the ground. They were vaguely aware of the blood dripping from their temple. Vaguely aware of the pistol clattering to the ground beside them.
Vaguely aware of Marlin crouching beside them and pulling them close.
"My baby," he whispered, his voice choked with tears. "My little baby..."
Sammy felt his tears on their face. Or maybe not. It could've been their blood.
Marlin pressed his fingers to Sammy's neck. "They have a pulse," he murmured. His hands were still shaking. "Hang in there, Sammy. Papi will save you. I'll make sure everything's okay." His voice cracked.
Sammy's vision went blurry. It was getting hard to breathe. "Dad," they whispered, hardly a sound coming from their lips.
That's what broke Marlin. He began to sob, clutching his dying child. Their blood staining his hands, figuratively and literally. He rocked their fragile body.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, mi vida. If I could swap our places..."
"I want you to live, Sammy. I can't lose you. Not like Michelle."
"Will you forgive me, mi vida?"
"I don't deserve it, I know."
He held them tighter. "I love you, mi vida. Even if I wasn't the best dad, I-" He sobbed.
I forgive you, Sammy wanted to say, but they couldn't find the words.
That was when everything went black.
The entire city of Gotham swore they could hear The Musketeer's scream as his child died in his arms.
