Chapter Text
Jaye never really slept well.
It was a recent development that made him slowly slip into slumber more easily, and that was having someone he trusted by his side. Initially, it didn't matter who it was: it could've been Roy, it could've been Kori, hell, even Biz had been someone he had trusted enough to sleep in the same room with and feel safe, together with Artemis.
But as of recently, his mind could only find peace with Dickie.
She was a heavy sleeper and, in all honesty, even while being a vigilante, she managed to sleep through thousands of alarms and, at the same time, also not sleep enough to have her mind clear to do her day job, which was quite surprising if you asked Jaye.
One month had passed since they had started living in the same space; it was something they had agreed upon, since Dickie wasn't going to remain in Gotham for long, and she also had nowhere to go other than the manor. And, yes, Dickie had no issue staying at the manor, but sometimes, you want to have some time by yourself, not always have the shadow of your own father over your head, which is why Jaye had agreed to let her stay in his apartment for the time being.
He shouldn't have agreed, in all honesty: he knew he had this horrendous crush on Dickie since he had seen her in those scaled panties of hers while living on the streets, and now, those feelings had resurfaced, just to prove to him how he had made a mistake in letting her stay over.
Their newfound friendship was going great, all things considered, which was why he thought that helping Dickie out wouldn't have been a great deal. After all, he understood the need to create space between you and your own helicopter parent, so…
Yeah, he had miscalculated this greatly.
Now, though, was not the time to think any of that; no, because Dickie was currently staring at the ceiling, panicked, with tears on the waterlines of her eyes, desperately trying not to spill them. Her breathing had become almost imperceptible, and when Jaye asked if she was okay, the only answer was terrifying silence.
When Jaye decided to switch on the lights, he immediately saw how her whole body was tense as a violin string.
Only when she saw his face did she actually, slowly, let her body go lax.
"What's happening?" Jaye tried to ask again, but Dickie only eyed him, almost terrified that if she even made a single sound, the whole world would just crumble.
Jaye looked at her for another couple of seconds before thinking that maybe she had a nightmare. So he got a bottle of water, made her sit up carefully, and then made her take some sips before checking her temperature and whether anything in her body was wrong.
Nothing seemed out of the norm, except for the jerking of her body when Jaye's hand came into contact with her skin.
What had happened?
He sighed and then, after thinking, he spoke again.
"I don't need you to talk, only nod for yes or shake your head for no, got it?" Dickie nodded, making Jaye nod back, understanding.
"Do you need food?" She shook her head.
"More water?" She shook her head again.
"Need me to stay next to you?" There was a pause, albeit a small one, before the woman nodded.
"You cannot speak right now?" Another nod.
"Okay," Jaye mimicked Dickie's nod, and when he reached for the lights, one of the older woman's hands stopped him from switching them off.
"Scared of the dark?" The younger woman asked, and Dickie tilted her head to the side. That was not the exact reason. "Scared of what might happen in the dark?" This time Dickie nodded, still a bit unsure, but it seemed like the answer was actually something along those lines. Jaye blinked a couple of times, pensive.
"What if I leave the nightstand lamp on and switch off the big lights?" Dickie's nod was small, not completely convinced.
"I can put on some series on the TV?" And that made the older woman light up — well, for how much a terrified Dickie could — making Jaye smile slightly.
"Okay, let's wind down then."
He didn't know what was truly happening. It had been a couple of days now, and Dickie was still nonverbal. She even refused to use sign language.
There was something important that Jaye couldn't see. Something that he missed. Something that he didn't know.
He was quick to go down to his bunker and check the files on his computer. He had connected his server to the one in the Batcave on purpose so that he could have all the files available to him, so when he checked Dickie's file, he was sure that on the other side there was going to be a similar file with the same information.
He found nothing.
And that's what irked him the most.
The whole file on Rachel Grayson had nothing that could lead her to have these behaviours, and even when something came close to being a solution, in the end, nothing would end up making sense.
It was more than frustrating.
"Hey, Dickie," Jaye called out to the woman one day, convinced that if he couldn't find the reason in the files, he could at least ask the source. Dickie turned around, looking at him with tired eyes and a small smile on her lips. "Can I ask about why you cannot talk?"
As soon as Jaye asked, Dickie's whole body language closed, her smile dying on her lips as she looked away. Jaye felt himself frown.
"How can I help you out?" Dickie shook her head at the younger woman's question, and before he could say anything else, the woman quickly beelined for the bedroom and then locked herself in.
Jaye sighed.
There was only one person who knew Dickie better than anyone else.
Bruce's everstill face changed into a small grimace at the question.
"What?" Jaye asked, already irritated at the reaction.
"She's nonverbal? Are you sure?" The adoptive father asked back, making the woman nod dramatically.
"For various days now, she won't communicate even through sign language, completely silent." He said, crossing his arms over his chest, "The only way she communicates is by shaking her head or nodding, which usually implies I have to pick and choose the right questions or she won't answer."
Bruce looked ahead at the various screens of the Batcomputer.
"It's about Renegade." He then stated.
"Renegade? Didn't she die?" Jaye asked, confused.
"No, not really," Bruce said as he started typing on the Batcomputer and made appear on the big screen a file that Jaye had never seen before up until now. "Renegade was Slade Wilson's apprentice… And my own daughter."
If Jaye's eyes could pop out of his orbitals, they would've.
"What?!"
"He kidnapped her a long time ago," Bruce continued to explain as he opened the file and showed the information written on it, "well, more than kidnapped; she had agreed to become his apprentice so that Wilson would leave the Titans out of trouble. To her, it was a fair trade, until it wasn't."
As Bruce continued to talk, Jaye felt his blood freeze in his veins.
"He brainwashed her into a killer puppet." He stated.
"How- how would this connect to her being nonverbal?" The woman asked, afraid to know the answer.
"It connects because Renegade was forced not to speak; if she ever even thought about opening her mouth, she would get punished." Bruce said, looking at his kid dead in the eye, "That's why I know that it's because of Renegade that she is acting like this."
"And that's also why she's scared shitless of my touch?" Bruce nodded slowly at Jaye's question. "How do I fix this?"
"You don't." The man said, making something in Jaye's chest hurt as he did so. "Brainwashing is difficult to erase, even after years of rehabilitation. You cannot do anything but be patient and let her slowly come back to her senses."
Jaye felt bitterness rise in the back of his throat.
"And now you'll also tell me that killing that shithead won't do her any good." He hissed, already livid at the next answer he was going to get from Bruce.
"You wouldn't be able to," he said instead, making Jaye feel even more enraged. "he's Deathstroke, a super soldier. You think you can stand toe-to-toe with him? You're wrong." Bruce sighed as he looked back at Jaye. "Dickie doesn't need you to kill her abuser right now," he almost whispered. "She needs a safe space. And you are it. Go back home and help her; this will solve at least eighty percent of the issues you're experiencing right now."
It was a slow, never-ending process. It got worse over time, something that Jaye expected, but also found himself wishing it didn't happen.
Dickie became paranoid, and for all the time Jaye tried his best to keep himself always in her line of sight, most of the time she would panic either way, so much so that she would shut down and stare at the wall, waiting for god knows what.
She looked like a mannequin. Like she was waiting to be told what to do, even though there was nothing to do other than wait for her brain to finally stabilise.
This pushed Jaye into nurturing her most of the time, helping her through tasks, guiding her through day-to-day life, almost as if he was the puppeteer. The idea of taking care of a person he loved was always something he found appealing, especially with the star of his dreams: he daydreamed about taking care of Dickie more than once; it was his guilty pleasure, something he thought about when he needed to find comfort.
But now, he didn't know if he liked the idea as much.
Dickie was at his mercy; whatever he asked her to do, she would follow, and he would soon find out that her compliance would remain true even for negative tasks.
It made his stomach churn.
It would be rare the times in which he would find Dickie being somewhat able to consciously do stuff, and even then, she would follow the requests with a detached manner, almost as if she was trying to mask that she was actually doing this out of her own will.
How to fix something like this?
"You don't. Brainwashing is difficult to erase, even after years of rehabilitation. You cannot do anything but be patient and let her slowly come back to her senses."
Bruce's words rang in his mind as he cooked dinner.
There had to be a way.
Jaye looked back to where Dickie was sitting: she was on the couch, sitting like a doll without strings.
It almost terrified him how lifeless she could look.
"Dickie," he called out, and without ado, the older woman straightened her spine and quickly walked to his side, eyes empty as she waited for Jaye to give out the next order. "Which one do you prefer?" He showed her two spices.
Now, Jaye knew that Dickie wasn't a culinary genius, and whatever he did was good enough for her to eat, especially since Jaye had grown up with Alfred teaching him his recipes on his side while he was still a teenager. But this was the only way, in his view, that could help Dickie finally snap out of it and wake up from that dreadful brainwashing.
Dickie's eyes slowly looked down, and when they did, Jaye could see some light slowly get back into them.
She didn't answer, gazing back at the younger woman with a question lingering in those irises.
"You can choose; I don't think I mind any of them," Jaye said.
Dickie's eyes went back to the spices. After some moments of stillness, she raised her hand and pointed at the paprika in Jaye's hand. Her finger was shaking.
"Okay, thank you for choosing," he said, then added the spice to the meal and continued to cook.
Dickie remained next to him, eyes now filled with curiosity as she stared at his cooking process dutifully.
One step at a time.
So apparently, even sleeping started to be difficult.
Dickie was barely able to sleep, and after a couple of days, they found out that the only way of having her to close her eyes was to let her have her back against the wall and have Jaye's face directly in front of her.
Apparently, this position let her keep an eye on the door of the room while also having the possibility of looking at Jaye while sleeping. It had been creepy at the start; Jaye couldn't really sleep well when he had someone's eyes directly pointed at him while he was trying to get some shut-eye, but with time he slowly grew accustomed to it, so much so that now it almost felt like it was normal.
Jaye didn't know what Dickie had been through as Renegade; Bruce didn't include many details in his explanation, so the only thing he could do in this situation was to blindly guess.
He guessed that until spoken to, Dickie was forced to remain in a position for long periods of time; he guessed that every movement made was under a specific command; he guessed that sleeping wasn't easy since Dickie always had to be able to scan her surroundings, even while lying down on the verge of sleep.
He didn't know Slade very well; he only knew that Bruce had decided to keep some details at bay because it would set Jaye off.
And that, somehow, made him even angrier.
What the fuck did Slade do to her? How did he manage to break her down to this point?
These were some of the questions that kept him awake at night.
But for the moment, he wouldn't have gotten any answers.
Progress was not linear: sometimes Dickie would open up more and finally move on her own accord, only to close herself up again when Jaye got mad at something or looked somewhat pissed around her.
Only after a week and a half did things actually start to get better.
And by better, Jaye meant that Dickie interacted with him physically. Especially during the night.
So, apparently, the woman must've felt bolder, because as soon as Jaye's breath would even out, she would be immediately pressing herself against his chest, cuddling up to him, and then pushing her head right under Jaye's chin.
It was cute, and honestly, Jaye hoped that Dickie would have done this sooner, before her relapsing. But then again, it was kind of a hopeless dream to have, seeing as the older woman had no feelings for him and, even if she was very physical, she never seemed to step up and do something of this calibre with Jaye.
Guiltily, Jaye was hoping this would have lasted longer so that he could have more nightly cuddles.
Another positive aspect was the talking. She still didn't open her mouth, but she made small sounds, little somethings that would help Jaye pick up what she was answering.
Not only was her voice somewhat back, but also her mannerisms were slowly blooming again: Dickie always was teasing, her mischief filtering through every pore of her being. She behaved like a fox.
That behaviour came back together with her voice.
But her words came back later with a twist.
It was nighttime when it happened; Jaye had set up every blanket in the house on the couch while Dickie was mindlessly scrolling over the movie choices they had.
It was movie night, a small tradition they had while they had been dealing with Dickie's relapse. Jaye was quick to find out how movies soothed her, almost as if the woman could finally concentrate on a singular thing and not the whole apartment for a while.
It became a thing after that, and Jaye wasn't all too upset about it, seeing as he had the excuse to have Dickie leaning into him every once in a while. It was sweet; these couple of hours before sleeping had become their official cuddle time.
Today's choice was horror, more specifically, Annihilation.
"You sure you want to watch a horror?" Jaye was unsure of Dickie's decision, and for a good reason: a) she would struggle to sleep afterwards; b) she would watch Jaye like a hawk for the day ahead. And don't get Jaye wrong, he liked to give the woman a safe space through affection; hell, it was probably the best thing that could have happened to him, yet it was also unnerving to see Dickie genuinely scared to death.
Dickie just smiled and nodded. She still had some heavy bags under her eyes, but unlike the start of this whole relapse, she seemed to be faring much better. It made Jaye's chest constrict slightly less.
"Alright then," Jaye said, and after finishing up the nest that was basically the couch, he sat down and had Dickie cuddling up against him, with the blanket right up under her nose, ready to be spooked.
It should've spooked her a bit, but apparently, this one did her worse than any previous ones could.
Jaye was quick to stop the movie as soon as he felt the woman leaning on him starting to shiver like a leaf. As soon as he did so, he dragged Dickie even further into his lap and hugged her tightly, leaving some kisses on the crown of her head every once in a while.
For some reason, that wasn't enough.
So Dickie got up to her knees and positioned herself so she was straddling Jaye's lap and hugging him again, with her nose buried in the crook of his neck.
This alone was already so much contact that Jaye felt like he was about to lose it as minutes passed by.
It wasn't until some time later that Dickie finally let go of his neck and then sat back on her heels to look up to him through her lashes.
In that moment, Jaye didn't really think about what was happening; more like his mind was empty, to the point that when Dickie had approached him, looking down at his lips and then up to his eyes again, he found himself closing the distance and actually kissing her.
When they had finally detached, they were both breathing heavily, as they looked at each other with wide eyes.
"Wow," Dickie whispered, and Jaye couldn't stop himself from kissing her again.
Their kissing was anything but clean; they were desperate and messy, and when they broke it again, Jaye's smile slowly grew on his face.
"So you know how to talk now, huh?" He whispered over her lips, as a small blush was blooming on her cheeks.
"I didn't know I could," she said as she cuddled up to Jaye's chest. "I thought I was still... I thought I was going to get punished if I did."
"Is that what he did to you if you talked?" He asked as he encircled her frame with his arms. She only nodded, staying silent again. He hummed, pensive. "You know we're going to have to talk about this, right?"
"About what? The kiss or…" Jaye could feel Dickie smile against him as she asked.
"Both." He answered.
"Well, the kiss is easy to explain," she stated, looking back up to him. "I have liked you for a bit now; it was just a matter of time before I found myself confessing it in some way."
Jaye hummed, leaning his forehead to Dickie's.
"Then, we're going to talk about it after you explain to me what has happened in the last couple of weeks," he said, with his breath brushing up against her lips again, "deal?"
Dickie huffed, cuddling up to Jaye's chest once again.
"Deal."