smoke and mirrorz

The air in Jump City was thick with the scent of ozone and salt, but for Dick Grayson, the atmosphere was perpetually weighed down by the leaden feeling in his chest. It had been four months since he had effectively scorched the earth of his own happiness. Four months since he had stood in a dimly lit hallway and let his own insecurities, his confusion over Barbara, and the mounting pressure of leading the Titans vomit out of him in the form of cruel, jagged words.

He could still see the way Melissa Chen’s grey eyes had gone from soft and concerned to cold, dead glass. He had told her she was a placeholder. He had told her that any man with eyes would leave her for someone "prettier and more interesting" the moment the opportunity arose. He had said it to push her away before he could get more attached, a defense mechanism that had backfired with the force of a supernova.

He had regretted it before the sentence even finished. But Melissa, with her quiet strength and Cautamese-french grace, hadn't given him the chance to grovel then. She hadn't screamed. She hadn't cried. She had simply stepped back, her soft features hardening into a mask of stone, and told him to never speak her name again.

Now, standing on the asphalt of the downtown district, Dick—clad in the red and green of Robin—felt his heart plummet.

The apartment complex was an inferno. Orange tongues of flame licked out of the fourth-floor windows, casting long, dancing shadows across the street. It was her building.

"Cyborg, get the perimeter! Star, watch for falling debris!" Robin barked, his voice cracking slightly with a desperation he couldn't hide. "Beast Boy, with me. There are people trapped on the fifth floor."

"On it, Rob!" Garfield Logan chirped, shifting into a giant green woodpecker to fly toward the upper balconies.

Robin grappled up, his movements frantic. He swung through a shattered window on the fourth floor, the heat instantly searing his skin through his suit. He didn't care. He kicked down doors, shouting for survivors, until he reached the end of the hall.

The door to 4B was warped by the heat. He shouldered it open, coughing as the black smoke swirled around his head.

There she was.

Melissa was huddled near the window, a wet cloth pressed to her face. She was calm—terrifyingly calm—even as the curtains behind her began to smolder. When she looked up and saw the masked figure of Robin, there was no relief in her eyes. There was only a sharp, icy recognition.

"Melissa," he gasped, reaching out a gloved hand. "I’ve got you. Come here, I need to get you out."

He moved toward her, his heart hammering against his ribs. This was his chance. Not just to save her, but to show her he was still the man she had cared for, despite the monster he’d acted like months ago.

As his hand drew near her shoulder, Melissa flinched. It wasn't the flinch of a victim; it was the deliberate recoil of someone avoiding a plague. She didn't just move away; she scrambled toward the window ledge, preferring the drop to his touch.

"Don't touch me," she said. Her voice was muffled by the cloth, but the command was absolute.

"Melissa, please, the floor is unstable," Dick pleaded, his voice dropping the 'leader' persona. It was just Dick now, begging. "I’m not going to hurt you. Just let me carry you."

He reached out again, his fingers trembling. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to tuck her head under his chin and whisper a thousand apologies into her dark hair. He wanted to tell her he was an idiot, a fool, a boy who didn't know what he had until he’d thrown it into the dirt.

Melissa ignored his hand entirely. She looked past him, her grey eyes narrowing as she spotted a flash of green feathers at the window.

Beast Boy shifted back into his human form, landing on the ledge with a thud. "Whoa, it’s getting toasty in here! Robin, we gotta move!"

The moment Gar appeared, Melissa’s entire demeanor shifted. She didn't look like the woman who had spent months icing out a superhero. She suddenly looked like a terrified, fragile civilian. She let out a soft, staged whimper and lunged toward the green-skinned teenager.

"Please!" she cried, her voice trembling with a vulnerability Dick knew was at least fifty percent calculated. "Please, help me! I'm so scared!"

She grabbed Beast Boy’s hand, clinging to his arm as if he were the only solid thing in a crumbling world. She pointedly kept her back to Robin, treating him like he was part of the furniture—or worse, part of the fire.

Gar blinked, looking confused. "Uh, yeah! I gotcha, Miss! Just hold on tight!" He looked over at Robin, his brow furrowed. "Hey, Rob? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Dick stood frozen, his hand still extended in the empty air. The rejection was a physical blow, sharper than any Batarang. She would rather trust a boy she had never met, a boy who was currently a bright green teenager, than let Dick Grayson even graze her sleeve.

"I'm fine," Robin said, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears. "Get her down. Now."

"You got it!" Gar shifted his grip, his arm around Melissa's waist. "Hold on, lady! We’re going for a ride!"

As Beast Boy turned into a giant pterodactyl and glided out the window with Melissa safely tucked against his chest, she didn't look back once.

Dick stood in the burning room for three seconds too long, the heat beginning to melt the soles of his boots. He had saved hundreds of people. He had fought gods and monsters. But standing in that smoke, he felt like the smallest, most insignificant thing in Jump City.

Down on the street, the chaos was beginning to settle. The fire department had arrived, and the Titans were congregating near an ambulance. Dick landed on the pavement with a heavy thud, his cape soot-stained.

He saw her immediately. Melissa was sitting on the back of an ambulance, a shock blanket draped over her shoulders. Beast Boy was standing in front of her, looking proud of himself, while Cyborg checked her pulse.

Dick approached, his pace slow and deliberate. He needed to talk to her. He needed to explain that he hadn't meant a word of it, that he had been terrified of how much he liked her, that he was a coward who used words as weapons.

"Melissa," he said, stopping a few feet away.

She was mid-sentence, laughing softly at something Beast Boy had said. The sound was like a knife to Dick's throat. The moment his voice hit the air, her face went blank. She didn't look at him. She looked at Cyborg.

"Is there someone else I can talk to about the police report?" she asked, her voice clear and sweet, completely ignoring Robin’s presence. "The green boy was very brave, but I think I need to give my statement to someone... official."

Cyborg glanced between the two of them, his mechanical eye whirring as he sensed the tectonic tension. "Uh, sure, Melissa. I can take you over to the Sergeant. But Robin here is the leader, he usually handles—"

"I'd prefer you," she interrupted, offering Cyborg a small, kind smile—the kind of smile she used to give Dick over coffee on Sunday mornings. "If that’s alright."

Cyborg looked at Robin, who was standing as still as a statue. Dick's jaw was set so tight it ached.

"Yeah. Sure," Cyborg muttered, sensing the danger zone. "Follow me."

As they walked away, Beast Boy lingered, scratching his head. "Man, Robin, what did you do to her? She’s super nice, but she looked at you like you were a piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe."

"Nothing, Gar," Dick snapped, the bitterness leaking out before he could stop it. "Just... go check on Starfire."

"Okay, okay! Sheesh. Just saying, you might want to work on your 'heroic rescue' face. You looked kind of constipated back there."

Dick watched them go. He watched Melissa walk away with his teammate, her head held high, her spine straight. She wasn't just ignoring him; she was erasing him.

He knew her secret. He knew she liked her tea with too much honey. He knew she spoke three languages and had a scar on her knee from a childhood bike accident in Marseille. He knew the way her eyes crinkled when she was trying not to laugh. And she knew him. She knew the boy behind the mask, the boy who had promised to protect her and then proceeded to break her heart with the precision of a surgeon.

He waited. He waited until the crowds thinned, until the fire was a smoldering ruin, and until Melissa was finally alone, waiting for a taxi to take her to a hotel.

He approached her again, this time without the team around. He didn't use his Robin voice.

"Melissa, please. Just one minute."

She didn't turn around. She stared at the approaching yellow cab. "I told you months ago, Richard. I don't want to hear your voice. I don't want to see your face."

"I was an idiot," he said, stepping closer, his hands open and pleading. "I was scared. I was confused about... things at home, and I took it out on you. I said those things because I wanted to hurt you before you could hurt me. I didn't mean a word of it. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met."

Melissa finally turned. The streetlights caught the grey of her eyes, making them look like cold flint.

"You think an apology fixes that?" she asked quietly. "You didn't just insult me, Dick. You tried to diminish me. You tried to make me feel small so you could feel powerful in your own indecision."

"I know," he whispered. "I know I messed up."

"You didn't 'mess up.' You showed me exactly who you are when things get difficult," she said, her voice devoid of heat, which was far worse than anger. "You told me I was 'uninteresting.' You told me any man would leave me. So, I’m making it easy for you. I’m leaving first."

"Melissa—"

"The green boy was very kind," she said, her tone shifting back to that polite, distant stranger. "You should learn from him. He doesn't seem to have the need to crush people to feel like a hero."

The taxi pulled up to the curb. She opened the door, her movements fluid and calm.

"Wait," Dick said, reaching out to stop the door.

She looked at his hand on the frame, then up at his mask. "If you touch me, I will scream for the police. And I don't think 'Robin' wants that kind of press right now, does he?"

Dick froze. He pulled his hand back as if the metal were white-hot.

She slid into the backseat and closed the door. As the taxi pulled away, Dick stood on the sidewalk, the smell of smoke still clinging to his uniform. He was the leader of the Teen Titans. He was the protege of the Batman. He was one of the most skilled humans on the planet.

And he had never felt like more of an idiot in his entire life.

He watched the red taillights of her cab disappear into the city traffic. He had apologized, but he knew it wasn't enough. It wouldn't be enough tomorrow, or the day after. He had spent his life learning how to catch criminals, but he realized then, with a sinking certainty, that he had no idea how to catch the heart he had so carelessly thrown away.

He would have to grovel. He would have to wait. He would have to prove he was more than the cruel words he’d spat in a dark hallway.

But as he looked at the charred remains of her home, Dick Grayson knew one thing for certain: Melissa Chen didn't take nonsense. And he had given her a lifetime's worth.

"I'm not giving up," he whispered to the empty street.

But the silence that followed was the only answer he got.