TIGHTROPE | dick grayson

three

22:02 EDT
FEBRUARY 13, 2016
DOWNTOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Quinn-Rose stood there, huffing breaths in the cold air, trying to quell the anger and pain that rose inside her chest like an unwelcome visitor. She failed, and furiously whirled and stalked a little way in the opposite direction, trying to hide her expression.

"Why did I come here?" she breathed to herself through gritted teeth, nails stabbing shallow crescent moons into her palms. She wanted to throw something, hit something. Her hand itched to go for the ring dagger in her left boot, though in present company it probably wasn't the first impression she should make after two years in the wind. Best to ease them into her significant changes (first and foremost the separation from her formerly beloved bow).

There was a disappointed quiet hanging in the air, and Quinn-Rose steeled her nerves. She knew this moment would come, but still hadn't prepared any words to say. What could she say? The way everything played out back then...

Carefully unclenching her fists, she turned to find five sets of eyes on her. Quinn-Rose was pleasantly surprised to note Ollie and Dinah's expressions did not hold disappointment or anger or disapproval. More than anything, Ollie looked as if he wanted to throw his arms around her, but was worried she might break, or bite. Dinah, though a bit more reserved than her counterpart, also seemed inclined to embrace her tightly.

Quinn-Rose briefly wondered if Jim Harper remembered almost breaking her arm as Guardian that day in Cadmus Labs.

On their other side stood Wally West and the person who had called her in the first place, Dick Grayson. They used to be close friends the three of them, back in the golden era of their team. She'd let that all drift away, crumble and decay the more she isolated herself and pushed them away, the more she threw her life into danger over and over again and refused to listen. Now they seemed like strangers, Dick in this new costume, so different, Wally a civilian among the heroes.

Quinn-Rose realised they were waiting for her to make the first move.

"That went swimmingly," she remarked, if only to hide how close to tears she still was.

"We weren't sure you would show," Dick said almost immediately.

"Well I did." Maybe her response was too hostile. But she and Dick had their own issues, which he knew all too well, so she guessed she didn't actually give a damn. "We... we were never going to get through to him, you know that, right?" she directed at the others, displeased with how despondent she sounded.

"Where have you been all this time?" Ollie replied, brushing past the painful statement. Ever since Quinn-Rose had gone off grid (and that meant completely off the League's radar, a difficult feat unless you knew what you were doing), she hadn't been in contact with anyone from her past, up until about two weeks ago. She supposed that left some pretty big gaps to fill in.

"A lot of places," she answered, truthfully. One of the old missions with the team had given her an idea when she left: a way to travel across the country with a degree of discreetness, while being relatively in plain sight. She'd joined a travelling circus, offering her skills as a tightrope artist and acrobat, rather than something archer-based that was more noticeable to anyone searching for her. After all, ballet training, years on tightropes training with Black Canary and running on roof edges with Green Arrow and Speedy while patrolling had honed her balance to perfection.

Quinn-Rose, even though she'd told herself not to get sentimental, that she was leaving after Roy's inevitably failed intervention, approached her old mentors. Seeming to know that she wasn't going to initiate a hug, Dinah did it for her. Instinctively, Quinn-Rose stiffened, because it had been a long time since any personal physical contact had not been related to violence, but quickly relaxed. Ollie squeeze her shoulder tightly, and it felt like an apology. Perhaps she was just crazy, or touch-starved, or had been anticipating this meeting ever since she got the call. Yeah. That was all it was.

Quinn-Rose stepped out of the embrace. She was different now. They wouldn't understand, wouldn't recognise her. She didn't want to stain their image of her with what she was.

Feigning lightness, Quinn-Rose asked Wally, "How's civilian life? How's Artemis?" Just to the side, she could feel Dick watching her, trying to decide if she was ignoring him or not. Cowardly as it was, yes, yes she was ignoring him.

As Wally explained to her that things were great, that they were happy, Quinn-Rose couldn't help the small, nostalgic smile. She'd missed so much, so many milestones and important things. Did they blame her? Did they hate her for the things she'd done and said? Were they glad she left? How much more would they hate her if they knew?

"So are you really Valkyrie, the one from the news?" Wally asked suddenly. A topic she hadn't been expecting to come up so soon. Ollie and Dinah's interests were definitely piqued, and it felt as if the three of them had begun to lean in. It was hard enough not exchanging a look with Dick, the only one here who actually knew the truth. She tried to feign surprise, but dropped it almost immediately. She wasn't as great an actor as she wanted everyone to believe.

Quinn-Rose looked at her boots to hide the twist of her mouth. Was there any point in lying about it, really? "Yeah." This is going straight into the League's database...

"I remember the days when you wouldn't tell us your identity," Wally joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, but what had just happened was too overshadowing that it didn't work as intended. Quinn-Rose smiled for him, appreciating his efforts.

"It's hard to believe," Ollie said, a look of surprise on his face. He and Dinah glanced at one another. This was what she'd been expecting. Been... afraid of. Her mentors, with those pictures of disapproval crossing their features — maybe they had heard of her exploits, of the ones who landed in police stations, the ones who landed in prisons, or of the ones who landed in hospitals.

The instinct to escape started creeping into Quinn-Rose's limbs, a nervous energy accompanied by the intense desire to go for the weapons she had on her. She still didn't think it was a good idea in front of them, but her hands betrayed her by coming free from her pockets and flexing loosely at her sides. Each hero (or ex-hero) on the rooftop followed the movement probably without realising, which didn't help. Maybe it was best for her to just go. Disappear again. She'd come here for one reason and now that it was done, it was time to leave.

"I need to go now. I..." Quinn-Rose realised she didn't know what to say to them. Rather than sit in her disaster of a meeting tonight, she walked away.

"Quinn," began Dinah, reaching out a hand, but it froze as she avoided it. Then she was past them and moving towards the stairwell that would take her back to the life she was now accustomed to. Seeing them expect her to be as she was just emphasised how unrecognisable the 'White Valkyrie' had become over the last two years. It was almost laughable.

As Quinn-Rose turned the sharp corner and yanked open the stairwell door, one last voice stopped her dead in her tracks. Made her hesitate and think for a moment about turning back around and joining them again. Just for him.

The dark haired girl stormed down the stairs, letting the door swing shut loudly behind her.