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The Ocean Wept (Sequel to	By : Dhvana Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2785 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Siren’s Song: The Ocean Wept
Chapter 4

Breathing in Buenos Aires’ sultry night air, the Siren leaned against the edge of the roof of the National Museum of Fine Arts, and waited. Her abundant curves were clad in a satiny cloth of the palest blue that shimmered with each patient shift of her body. Every once in a while, she brushed from her face a few stray strands of the silky mass of sea-foam colored hair that blew gently in the breeze. Blue eyes lifted to the stars, watching their casual travels across the sky as she waited for her partner to return.

Perhaps partner wasn’t the right word. Commandeered companion might have been a better description.

Slave would have been the best.

Somewhere in downtown Buenos Aires, a boy in his late teens dressed in a suit of red and green and gold was breaking into the vault of a bank. She was on the other side of town waiting for him at the museum not out of any fear of getting caught, but simply because she liked museums. They were so peaceful, so quiet, so dignified, but most importantly, they contained relics of times that were, in her opinion, far superior to the modern age she found herself in.

In this age, every woman was considered to be a siren. They lured men with their bodies, parading around in clothes that were either made up of very little cloth or of fabrics that clung to the body, leaving nothing to the imagination. But these women were strong, too, independent. They knew the power they had. They could either gather the men to their command, or set them adrift and leave them always wanting. And if the man refused to be bent to their will, it didn’t matter. They always had other options.

It was disgusting.

Modern women had taught men to fear them, and the males of the human race were less inclined to chase what they knew they could never catch, so they looked to what they could catch.

How was she, a true Siren, supposed to make an impact when men could just log onto a computer or flip a channel to get what they wanted? In order to find their instant release, they just sat with dull eyes glued to a screen covered in breasts, or flipped to a channel showing copious amounts of skin and bad acting accompanied by breathy moans. Why bother with the real thing, a flesh and blood woman who would just make demands and try to control their lives, when hassle-free porn was available with the click of a button?

And that was just the path for those who didn’t want to look beyond the safety of their own four walls.

While she knew that common prostitutes had always been available, and that they still were available, the people of the world had altered their views on just what sort of entertainment they could hire. Cities now had clubs that hosted to every kink ever imagined, and then some. If a man or a woman was looking for a night of release without the burden of a relationship, or if they wanted to explore new paths, they didn’t have to look far. Men and women were now free to cater to their every desire. They had more options available than they knew what to do with.

Where did she, who controlled people through their desires, fit into all of this?

She and her sisters used to be feared. Their song was synonymous with death, yet men would foolishly tempt fate in order to catch a glimpse of the Sirens’ unparalleled beauty and to hear the exquisite sound of singing that could drive even gods to madness.

Today, men could just press the mute button and ogle her accompanied only by the sound of a slapping hand on clammy flesh.

It wasn’t enough for her to be able to capture a stray soul here or there, or a relative innocent who was too young to become a regular visitor at a sex club. She wanted her power back. She wanted men and women on their hands and knees risking their lives to see her, to touch her, to hear her. She wanted them punished for daring to replace her with false sirens, for locking her away on an island because they were too weak to resist her, and when that didn’t save them, for the centuries of tedium spent in a cave with only her thoughts for companionship until her mind had nearly broken, until she’d finally gathered enough power to free herself.

She’d had her fun, she’d played her little games, she’d explored the boundaries of her newfound freedom, but now she was through playing. She wanted revenge. She wanted them to suffer for what they’d put her through.

But in order to do that, she’d need her sisters.

The scuff of a heel against the blacktop of the roof alerted her to her companion’s return, and she turned to greet him. Blue eyes revealed no emotion as the young man walked up to her and stopped, his face as impassive as a zombie’s.

“Did you get it?”

He set the backpack on the roof and began digging through one of the pockets. Bending down on one knee, he held up the prize for her inspection. A smile broke across her face as she lifted the jewel from his hand.

She’d amassed a fortune in gems and precious stones from across the world, but none could compare to this, this one perfect creation. She held the tear-shaped jewel up against the moonlight, inspecting each flawless facet of the diamond. Its color was the deep rich blue of the Mediterranean and no light reflected off it, but seemed to be absorbed into it.

“Beautiful,” she sighed, then handed it back to the boy at her feet, who returned it to the backpack. “Keep it safe, pretty one. We’ve got just one more to find, and then they’ll be free.” She leaned down, brushing her lips across his. “And so will you.”

She turned and they made their way to the Batplane parked on the roof. “Unless,” she added thoughtfully as they climbed in, “I decide to keep you. Would you like that?”

He nodded, knowing it was the answer she wanted to hear.

“You’re sweet,” she said, kissing his cheek while the plane’s engines roared into life. “I may have to keep you, just so they won’t have you.”

As the plane ascended vertically from the roof and they left the lights of Buenos Aries behind, the woman in the seat next to him began to alter. The curves of her lush body became less evident, her face rounder, younger, and she shrunk two inches in height. Her sea-foam hair was slowly streaked with electric blue until there was not a pale strand to be found, and her limbs took on the lissome suppleness of a teenage girl.

Lorelei Lamar smiled at her costumed boyfriend, whose deadened eyes were focused on the air in front of them. She couldn’t wait till they returned to Gotham. Tim had definitely earned a reward for this night’s work. Or rather, Robin had earned it, but as Tim was the one with the girlfriend, he would be the one to receive it.

Humming to herself, Lorelei turned and watched the reflection of the moonlight on the water beneath them, never noticing the way the fists clenched on the steering wheel, or the angry set to the jaw of the plane’s pilot.

The air of the loft was filled with enough tension to shatter glass as the three men stared at each other. Will and Connor sat on one side of the kitchen table while Oliver sat opposite them, alternately meeting and avoiding their gazes. The original Green Arrow had a bottle of scotch in front of him and a glass that had already been filled and emptied twice.

Will eyed the glass with longing as it was emptied a third time, but hard liquor was not on Connor’s list of approved drinks for boyfriends who were recovering from a splenectomy.

He wondered if he could distract Connor long enough to sneak a swig—

“Don’t even think about it.”

Damn, he thought, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend. He didn’t realize he was being so obvious. Ollie glanced between them, looking as if he didn’t really want to know, and poured a fourth glass. Will sighed, shifting in his chair, and immediately bit back a gasp at the twinge in his side. He’d really managed to overdo it that night. Next time he’d remember to just skip the dancing and take Connor straight to bed.

“Dad, are you about ready to—”

“Give me about another ten minutes and the booze will have numbed the homicidal urges I find myself trying to resist. Why I’m trying, I’ll never know.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like a child.”

“I think I’ve earned that right, don’t you? After all, it’s not every night a father walks in on the scene of his son’s deflowering by another man, but if it did happen every night, trust me, it would be followed by copious amounts of alcohol and a litany of sarcastic comments.”

“You do realize I’m an adult and not ignorant teenager, that I am capable of making my own decisions without needing my father’s permission.”

“No, you’re an innocent in his twenties, and you’ve clearly been seduced by this. . . this. . .”

“Contractor?” Will offered, and Ollie slammed the glass on the table.

“Exactly! You’ve been seduced by this. . . wait a minute.” He scowled at Will. “Contractor? What the hell are you talking about?”

“That’s what I am, a contractor.”

Ollie’s eyes narrowed. “Who seems to think he has a sense of humor.”

“It’s one of my many talents, as your son can profess.” Will flashed the older man a suggestive smile. “He knows them all now.”

Connor quickly jumped from his chair and grabbed Oliver by the shoulders, holding him down before he could lunge at Will.

“Will, I think you’ve helped enough for tonight,” he growled at his lover, who looked up at him, eyes shining with innocence.

“Does this mean I’m dismissed?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god,” Will said, pushing himself up from the chair and would have fallen over if Connor hadn’t caught him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his hands on Will’s arm in case he started to tilt towards the floor.

Will’s eyes softened at the concern in Connor’s voice and he smiled up at him. “I’m fine. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure, I promise, so don’t worry.”

“Easy for you to say,” he said, smiling back. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. Dad, I’ll be right back.”

“Whatever,” Oliver said, forgoing the glass altogether and drinking directly from the bottle.

Connor helped Will to the bedroom and saw him safely tucked into bed, his head resting on freshly fluffed pillows.

“You’re too good to me,” Will said as Connor leaned over to kiss him.

“I’m just trying to butter you up so you’ll agree not to taunt my dad.”

Will looked up at him with pouting eyes. “You know you’re taking all the fun out of this, don’t you?”

“I’m just trying to keep the peace. Please tell me you’ll play nice.”

Seeing the uncertainty lurking behind Connor’s words, the fear that his father would reject him, Will relented. “Of course. I’ll do whatever you ask. And if you can convince your father to stay, put him up in the spare room.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, kissing him again. “I should get back to Dad before he passes out. Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll be asleep before you even leave the room. Actually, I’m going to stay awake long enough to watch you walk out of here and down the hall so I’ll have plenty of fodder for happy dreams, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

Connor chuckled and left Will to his dreams, being sure to add an extra wriggle to his ass as he made his way down the hall. He paused, however, when he reached the kitchen, his father’s green eyes so much like his own bringing him to a stop.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ollie asked gruffly, his voice harsh as if he’d had to force the words from his throat.

Connor again took a seat across from his father. “Robin was caught under the Siren’s spell not too long ago and when Will tried to stop him. . . well, let’s just say he was no match for Batman’s sidekick.”

“Robin?” Oliver frowned. “Not the one a little older than you I saw with Bruce.”

“No, that’s Nightwing. The new Robin’s in his late teens, and to make a long story short, Robin ruptured Will’s spleen and he had to have it removed. He nearly died,” Connor finished softly, staring down at his hands.

He looked so afraid at what he’d almost lost, Oliver felt a twinge of sympathy for his son.

“I’m no doctor,” he said, offering Connor a conciliatory smile, “but I think he’s going to live.”

“Yeah,” the young Green Arrow said, jade eyes glowing with the joy of Will’s recovery, “he’s going to be fine. He just needs to go a little easier on himself.”

“Or maybe you could be a little less rough in bed.”

Connor’s honey-brown skin turned a color not unlike that of a ripe cherry, and as much as he tried, Oliver couldn’t contain his grin.

“There’s something to be said for that old Queen charm, not to mention, the legendary Queen stamina. Runs in the family, you know.”

“Except that unlike with you, Will’s it for me. There are no others, and there never will be.”

“Connor—”

“Dad, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I lived in a monastery for so long that now I’m in the real world, I’m confused and I don’t know what I’m doing. You’re thinking I feel responsible for getting Will hurt, that I never even showed interest in sex before, and you know what, all of that’s true. I do feel guilty, confused, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I never looked at anyone--man or woman--in a sexual or even a romantic manner--until I saw Will. And when I did see him, it happened as I always imagined it would. Our eyes met, our hands touched, and we just knew.”

“Connor, are you sure about this--about him? Are you sure you didn’t just run into some seemingly nice attractive guy on the street and you wanted to fall in love so badly, you managed to convince yourself he’s the one? What if he isn’t?”

“Trust me, Dad, he is. And I didn’t run into him on the street,” he said, a sly smile crossing his face. “He was actually dating Nightwing at the time.”

Oliver’s eyebrows rose till they nearly touched his hairline. “You stole him from Nightwing?” Connor’s shoulders rose in a little half-shrug and Ollie started to laugh. “You really are a chip off the old block, aren’t you? And here I was thinking this was all disgustingly sweet and clean, but there’s a sordid side to it, too.”

“It isn’t sordid. Will and Dick knew they weren’t going to last because Dick’s heart wasn’t in it, so my coming along sort of wrapped things up all nice and neat. Dick got the one he wanted, Will and I have each other, and everything’s worked out for the best. Assuming, of course,” Connor said with a tentative look at his father, “that you don’t mind having a gay son.”

“Connor, have you lost your mind?” Ollie stood up and pulled the younger man from his chair, trapping him in a huge hug. “I don’t give a bat’s ass if you’re gay, straight, bi--I may have to draw the line at animals--but your sexuality has absolutely no effect on how much I love you.” He drew back to meet his son’s eyes. “When I saw you there, I was just worried that you were getting into something you weren’t prepared for. Still am, but I’m your father. I’m supposed to worry. Other than that, your bed partners are your choice and yours alone. To be honest, I’m just kind of glad to know your plumbing actually works. I was starting to wonder if you were maybe missing a part or two.”

“Thanks Dad,” Connor said, returning his father’s hug. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that, though I could have done without the plumbing comment.”

Chuckling, Oliver kissed his son’s forehead. “You’re welcome. You do know, of course, that if he breaks your heart, I’m putting an arrow between his legs.”

“Dad!” Connor scolded, glaring at his father. “You really think you can beat me to it?”

Oliver threw back his head and laughed, his eyes filled with adoration for his son. “Good to hear the Queen blood can even beat out the most stringent Buddhist training. Now come on,” he said, grabbing the bottle of scotch and pulling Connor to the sofa, “sit down and tell your old man what you’ve been up to and why you’ve been too busy to call.”

Connor plucked the bottle from his father’s hand and placed it back on the table. “You’ve had more than enough for one night, and you might want to be sober for this considering it’s regarding your ex.”

“That larcenous karaoke kook is not my ex. It was one night, and I wasn’t in control of my senses.”

“And if you had been?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, and Oliver scowled at him.

“Let’s not go there, shall we?”

“Sure thing, pops.”

“It’s ‘Dad’,” Ollie growled, and Connor smirked at him.

“Yes, father.”

“Connor. . .”

He chuckled. “Just thought I’d try something different, Dad.”

“Son, you’d better be careful, or that ass of yours is going to be too sore to be of any use to your boyfriend.”

“Thanks to him,” Connor said with seemingly sincere innocence, “it’s already too sore.”

“I asked for that, didn’t I?” Ollie groaned. “In the future, you’d better leave out those kinds of details, or I’m not paying for your wedding.”

“You’re going to throw us a wedding?”

“Not anymore.”

“That’s all right,” Connor shrugged. “He hasn’t asked me yet.”

“You could always ask him.”

“We’ve only known each other a little over a month. I think it’s still too early. Maybe next week.”

Ollie snorted and subtly eyed the bottle on the table behind them. “Why do I get the feeling you’re deliberately trying to get under my skin?”

Connor grinned. “Just a hunch, I guess.”

“You’ve been spending too much time around tall, dark, and dismal--he loves irritating the hell out of me. But speaking of Bats, why don’t you tell me about your little encounter with the Siren, I’ll tell you what I’ve learned, and then we’ll see if we need to let him in on the fun.”

“Considering how he feels about her, he’s going to want to be informed.”

“Yeah, but he hasn’t had a member of his family hospitalized because of her. We have.”

Beaming at his father, Connor took a deep breath and began telling Oliver everything that had happened since he’d arrived in Bludhaven.

Tim skipped down the stairs into the Batcave, a smile on his face he just couldn’t seem to get rid of.

One look at Batman wiped it off pretty damn quick.

He cringed beneath the dark stare, wondering if Batman had somehow managed to see what he and Lorelei had been up to last night. But no, even if he had seen, he couldn’t be mad about that.

Could he?

Especially not after what he and Dick. . .

Tim shuddered at the memory of the scene he’d accidentally walked in on. He forced himself to think of innocent things like kittens and flowers and clouds that changed into the shape of two men--oh, god. He was now positive he’d never be able to look Dick in the face again. At least the cowl covered up most of Batman’s face so there wasn’t enough of Bruce left for him to associate with the memory.

“What’s up?” he asked, trying to keep his stomach contents intact. “Is something wrong? Do we have a lead on the Siren?”

The caped crusader’s eyes narrowed. “You took the Batplane.”

Oh. Was that all? Thank goodness, but it would probably best if he didn’t share his relief with his partner.

“Yeah, so?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but ending up sounding insolent.

“You do not have permission to fly the Batplane alone. You’re not even old enough to have a pilot’s license.”

“Do you really think the police are going to stop Robin from flying without a license?”

“That’s not the issue.”

“No, it isn’t. The issue here is that I went out patrolling last night, alone, because you were too busy with Dick christening the antique sideboard in the dining room. The very same sideboard, I might add, for which I nearly got my head ripped off because I once set a glass down on it without a coaster. All things considered, I believe a missing coaster to be a far less heinous crime than what you were doing on it.”

Batman’s eyes were severe as he turned away from the young man and made his way to the computer. Beneath the mask, Bruce Wayne was overcome with a subtle horror at what the young man had witnessed. Batman, however, was just annoyed.

“Next time Bruce and Dick have a date, remind me to sell tickets,” he muttered, trying to remain dignified as he sat down before the main screen.

“I’ll do that, sir,” Alfred said as he happened to be walking by. “And, for future reference, please leave the stains for me to deal with. Master Dick nearly rubbed the carpet on the stairs bare trying to get the last one out. At least, I assume that’s the reason why it looks a little bare.”

Against his will, Batman slunk down in his chair, wishing it would swallow him whole.

“Are we done?” Tim asked in a sharp voice, and Batman nodded, wishing he could file away Bruce’s embarrassment as easily as he could file away a piece of information on the Joker. Still, he couldn’t let his protégé get away with taking the plane, no matter what he’d seen.

“Six rounds in the training simulator at the highest level. Three hours on the flight simulator.”

“What?! But I didn’t—”

“NOW.”

Grumbling under his breath, Tim changed into his sweats and flipped through the simulator programs until he reached the hardest levels. It just wasn’t fair, he thought as he readied himself for attack. Why should he be punished because Bruce and Dick weren’t careful enough about where they fucked? If they didn’t want to be seen, they should stay in the bedroom like everyone else!

Not that he and Lorelei. . . but that wasn’t the point.

What confused him even more than Batman’s reaction, and what kept him off balance throughout every round, was that he’d been hoping for a little more from Batman. His partner shouldn’t have let him off the hook that easily. Didn’t he want to know why Robin had taken the Batplane? Didn’t he want to know how Robin had managed to put all those miles on it while supposedly out on patrol around Gotham alone? If Batman had just pressed a little harder, asked the right questions, Tim knew something in him would have been freed, because his loyalty and obedience were dedicated first and foremost to his partner.

He just wished he could figure out exactly what it was he was trying to free.

[April 24, 2004]
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The Ocean Wept (Sequel to