Chapter 7: Gotham City

Nightmares were common when Mark slept. He'd often wake up, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, feeling as though he had been fighting for his life. Within his nightmare, he was. They revolved around his dad these days, but sometimes he'd have others make an appearance. Like Battle Beast, or the aliens from another dimension. All intent on making his worst ideas come to reality.

Tonight was no different. It was the same thing again, the same nightmare. The building had collapsed. The train. People were dying, Mark was begging his father to stop, trying to wrench himself from his iron grip. Except in this nightmare, the victims screamed at him. The world around him faded away and left injured victims to form an amalgamation of limbs, guts, and blood to haunt him. A creature made of gore from which he created, hunting him down to break his body too. They wailed as he ran, but it didn't matter how fast he was, the creature was faster. Multiple heads screamed at him, poisonous words Mark didn't want to swallow.

"You killed us!"

"This is all your fault!"

"My daughter!"

Their voices rang. Mark was useless against it, perhaps the people he killed felt the same way. Useless against Viltrumite power, a bug among giants. All his strength and tough skin were no match for the people, it didn't matter. They tore him apart once they caught him. Each limb was stretched to its limit, soon to be plucked off like an ant's leg. Mark screamed at them to stop, begging. Just as they began to dig their dull nails into his stomach and ripping his insides to shreds, he woke up.

With a startled shout Mark gasped awake, instantly sitting up, heart racing out of his chest. He was met with a dark, silent room. No mass of people, no yelling, no hands tearing at his body, nothing. It was quiet and calm, unlike Mark.

He had suffered from another nightmare.

"Fuck…" Mark whispered and ran a hand through his hair, strands clinging to his hand. His hair was wet with sweat, the sheets under him were no better. Here he thought the nightmares had calmed down, having gone two days without one. However Mark was proved wrong, and this one had to be the worst one yet-

His door slammed open, "Where's the threat!?" It was Damian. Brandishing a sword between his hands, he stormed into his room ready to battle whatever was terrorizing him. Except there was nothing. Just Mark, shivering in his sheets and coated in a sheen of sweat.

Mark frowned and watched Tim follow behind Damian, tense as well. He didn't have a sword. "There's no threat," he said after sparing the room one glance, before looking at Mark. Still trembling from his nightmare like a scared child. Mark wondered if he should ask them to check under his bed for monsters as well.

"Oh," Damian said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. He lowered his sword and muttered something under his breath, before addressing Mark, voice dripping with disdain. "Then why are you wailing like a child?" He snapped like he was one to talk. But he was right, Mark did feel like a small, frail child. He screamed like one too.

"Damian!" Tim snapped, jabbing him with his elbow, who smacked his arm away.

"What? If there's no threat, he shouldn't have screamed," Damian exclaimed. "Even you should understand that Drake." Tim frowned with disapproval, about to speak, however, he decided to cut their bantering short.

"Sorry," Mark interjected, hating how his voice wavered. He cleared his throat, "I had a nightmare, there's no danger. You… you can leave."

Damian frowned at him, and Tim was the one to step forward. "That's fine. We all have nightmares once in and while, are you… um, ok?" Tim asked, wringing his hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I woke you," Mark muttered. He felt bad for screaming and scaring them, he probably freaked them out. Who else had he woken up? Well, at least the whole house wasn't rushing into his room. Mark wouldn't be able to handle a gaggle of bats flapping around his room.

"It's alright, I was already awake," Tim said, shrugging.

"I am always ready to battle," Damian muttered and lifted his chin. Which, ok? Weird thing to say, but not surprising coming from Damian.

Mark chuckled, "Well, unless you want to fight my mind, then you have nothing to war with," to his own surprise, Damian's lips quivered up a little. Amused at his lame attempt at a joke.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tim offered, Mark grimaced at the mere notion. "Or not! It usually helps to talk to someone, and I'm all ears."

Mark raised a brow, "Is this another interrogation?" He said, giving a weak grin.

"No! No. You don't have to list every detail, I'm… just open to listen," Tim ended, he looked a little unsure of himself, shifting from foot to foot. While Damian stared at him with narrowed eyes, fiddling with his sword. But he hadn't left once Mark appeared to be physically okay, and neither had Tim. They stayed.

Mark considered his offer, wondering if he really wanted to open up to them. So far, Mark hasn't talked much about his trauma or what he experienced. Besides a few hints here and there, he wanted to keep it to himself, wait til he got home to friends and family, people he trusted and knew would understand. He wasn't trying to keep secrets, Mark just wanted to keep his stuff private and not dump it on this family. He hardly knew them too, who knows how they would react, and his mind supplied plenty of worst-case scenarios.

However… with shaking hands, the images of his nightmare haunted his mind. Mark could still hear the victims screaming at him, and perhaps, talking about it could relieve him of a heavy burden.

Mark found the words bubbling out of his mouth, not knowing how silent he had been prior. He mentioned the collapsing building, the train, how a villain- who he didn't say was his dad- had run his body through one. Killing everyone on board. The images haunted him, and the number of people who died because of his failure always made him feel guilty. He mentioned the creature in his dream, it tearing into him. Mark never mentioned his dad and his role in Mark's own terror.

They didn't have to know that part. Mark didn't want to talk about it, even thinking about it made his chest ache like an open, raw wound.

"And then I woke up, as it was tearing into me," Mark gave a weak chuckle. "It felt real… I didn't mean to scream in real life, or wake you guys up," he ended, not looking at the two who he dumped trauma on. It was silent, for a moment. Even when it felt like hours to him. Mark tensed, did they blame him for their deaths? Were they disgusted? Disappointed? Mark found himself looking up at them, anxiety whirling in his chest. Expecting some type of negative emotion on their faces, knowing he killed people.

What he instead found was understanding. Tim's face was pinched, however, he only looked at Mark with concern, nodding his head as if he understood. Damian was staring at him, expression blank, but the hold on his sword was tight and painted his knuckles white.

Then, the silence was broken by Tim, who let out a heavy sigh. "We always take in the traumatized ones…" he muttered under his breath, Damian finally looked away, clicking his tongue. Mark chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. What did that mean? "Listen, Mark, I get it. You blame yourself for their deaths and God, you're just like Dick in that aspect," he was? "But bottom line, it wasn't your fault. You didn't run through a train willingly, you didn't intentionally kill them. Quite the opposite, you tried to save them, stop the villain. None of that was your fault."

"I know," Mark whispered. Did he? He wanted to believe Tim, but he still felt guilty. Like he could've done more. "I just feel like I failed them."

Tim's gaze softened, "It's ok… well, no, people died. But- I- ugh, I don't know!" Tim exclaimed, Mark's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to reassure Tim, that he didn't have to comfort him. But Damian spoke before he could get a word out.

"I believe the imbecile is trying to say you tried your best. Even if it wasn't enough," Damian muttered. Mark frowned, was this supposed to be comforting? "People died, and I have no idea who this villain is. However, I promise to run them through with my sword should they try anything again," Damian said, nodding his head as if he said the most profound statement. The image of Damian attempting to stab his dad was an amusing thought, if not horrifying. Yeah, Mark didn't want to think about that.

Tim glowered at Damian, "That… wasn't at all what I was trying to say."

"What else is there to say?" Damian shrugged. "I don't blame Mark. I doubt anyone with common sense would blame him."

"Ok, but how does threatening the villain make him feel better?" Tim snapped, and Damian glared at him.

"He'll feel safe."

Tim scoffed, "like he would feel safe around you. Don't think I didn't hear about you trying to stab him-"

"He wasn't impaled!"

"But you tried," Mark looked between the two, bickering like the siblings they were.

Mark huffed a chuckle, "Alright, alright, thank you. I don't need you to say anything great, I just wanted a listening ear," the two instantly snapped their mouths shut once he spoke.

Tim sighed in relief, "Good, I'm not great at this thing,"

"I can tell," Mark deadpanned and Tim shot him a glare before he smiled, Mark couldn't help but smile back. He started backpedaling out of the room, "Go back to sleep."

"Shouldn't you do the same?" Mark said, raising a brow. Tim flipped him off as he left, Mark grinned. Yeah, talking about it did make him feel better. Tim was right. He glanced at Damian, who was back to staring at him. Mark didn't know why he was still here, staring. Did he say something wrong? "What?" He shifted where he stood, avoiding Mark's eyes. He watched him open and close his mouth a few times, before seeming to give up.

The boy clicked his tongue, "Nothing. Go to sleep," he muttered, walking out and closing his door. What was that about? Damian had been awfully quiet and respectful as he talked, he expected more sass from him. But for once, he was actually understanding.

Huh, maybe the kid wasn't too bad.

Mark pulled his blankets back over him, eyeing the digital clock, telling him it was 2 a.m. Also telling him he wouldn't get much sleep tonight.

True to his thoughts, Mark didn't. He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, before finally falling asleep.

At 7 o'clock.

—----

By some miracle, Mark managed to drag himself out of bed and to the kitchen. Half asleep, he poured himself a bowl of cereal that Alfred would be disappointed to see him eating at noon. He leaned against the counter, shoving half-hearted spoonfuls into his mouth. He hardly noticed someone else entering the room. They began to talk, and Mark nodded, pretending to listen. His eyes were half closed, and he looked down at his colorful cereal. He wasn't awake enough for this.

"Wanna come with?" Dick's voice penetrated through the fog. Mark lifted his head, blinking tiredly at the man.

"Huh?" He muttered. Why was Dick here? Shouldn't he be in Bludhaven- oh, it's the weekend. What was he talking about anyway? "Sorry, what'd you say?" Mark asked, finally looking at him.

Dick chuckled, "I asked if you wanted to go out in the city."

He almost dropped his spoon, "Wait, I'm allowed???" Mark exclaimed, sitting up straight. Now a lot more awake than he was a second ago. Even if he wasn't allowed, Mark would still take the offer. Bruce be damned.

"Of course. Didn't you listen to Bruce?" No, actually. He stopped listening to Bruce's lecture after the fifth sentence. He vaguely remembered it, too tired from flying around all night to listen. But most of the words were jumbled together. Dick smirked, "I'll take that as a no."

"I don't know…" Mark muttered, stirring his cereal. The excitement seemed to shrivel away, an ache seeping into his bones. Going out in the city sounded nice, but for some reason, he felt apprehensive. A deep exhaustion within his body made Mark want to waste away in the manor forever. Was that normal?

"What? You want to stay holed up here til the watch gets fixed?" Dick said, raising a brow. In truth, he really didn't. There was no other excuse not to go out. Recently, Mark felt tired all the time, sleeping a lot, and dragging himself around. Maybe that's why Dick wanted to take him outside, he acted like a zombie. "Mark, you can't mope around the manor all the time. Let's get you some fresh air! I could even treat you to Batburger," What the hell was Batburger?

Mark sighed, Dick was right. He shouldn't mope, perhaps going outside would make him feel less tired. After all, he used to go out all the time back home. He'd even fly around for fun. "Alright. Just let me finish breakfast," he said, shoving cereal into his mouth.

"Awesome!" Dick exclaimed and pushed off of the counter. "I'll be in the living room when you're done," he said and walked away. Mark watched him go, wondering if he'd made the right choice. What harm could come from touring Gotham? It'll be fine.

In hindsight, Mark almost regretted agreeing to tour Gotham City. Because true to its name, the city was… goth. Gargoyles, gothic structures, and dark colors at every corner. It seemed to always be cloudy and foggy, covering the city like snow. Mark thought it was the night making it look that way. Nope, even during the day it was kind of depressing. Not exactly a sunny tourist hotspot.

But to top it all off, the place they were eating at, called 'Batburger,' got robbed as they were eating. Mark grimaced, apparently harm could come from touring Gotham.

"Everyone put your hands in the air!" One of the gunmen screamed, firing a warning shot into the air. The other one was shoving a bag at the employee, demanding them empty the cash register. Dick, as well as many other people, didn't even bother to put their hands up. They startled at the gunshot before returning to their food, eyeing the two gunmen with disdain rather than fear.

Dick rolled his eyes, "Just keep eating your burger," he muttered with a smile. "It'll be resolved," with a devilish grin he showed his phone screen, which had a blinking bat symbol on it. Mark didn't know what that meant, but it must be a good thing to have Dick relaxed in the face of potential danger. He put his phone down and continued to eat his burger. Mark remained tense as the other robber began to shout at people and threaten them with his gun.

However, most were not bothered. Tense, obviously. But more annoyed than anything.

"Batman will come and beat your ass," one civilian hissed, pointing a fry at the gunman.

The criminal, to Mark's own surprise, barked at his coworker to hurry up. Clearly intimidated at the thought of Batman showing up. How famous were they? Mark glanced at his own Batburger, famous enough to have their own fast food-themed restaurant. Damn, Mark was jealous. "Then we'll leave before he gets here," he sneered.

Dick snorted, "sure," he whispered to Mark, "Cass is on her way."

"Oh?" His interest was piqued. Mark hadn't seen all of their costumes. Sure he saw them displayed in the Batcave, and Bruce had told them who was who. But he hadn't seen them actually wearing the outfits. Except for Dick and Bruce. He was also curious to see how they fought, since none of them had powers… to his knowledge. Except for Duke.

After a few minutes, true to Dick's words, a woman clad in an outfit similar to Batman burst through a window. Because screw the door, no one uses a door to enter a room. He assumed that was Cass, her costume had no eyes and was much more… black, than Batman's. She threw a type of boomerang in the shape of a bat at one gunman. Effectively knocking the gun away. Mark was already impressed.

"Shit, run!" He yelled, The other one holding the bag of money took off sprinting. Only to be grappled and yanked back by Cass, as she delivered a punch that shattered his jaw. Judging by the crack. Mark winced, She wasn't gonna kill them… right? The man fell to the ground and attempted to raise his gun to shoot, only to have his hand stepped on. Cracking under her foot. He screamed in pain, Mark was now more scared of Cass than the criminals. That was Cass, right?

Bang! "Die!" The other one yelled, firing shots. Cass easily flipped over a table for protection, slipping behind it. Dick pulled him under the table, as did the other civilians. He didn't need protection from bullets, but he appreciated the gesture. Mark didn't see the rest of the fight, but judging from the sounds, it wasn't in the gunman's favor.

He saw the man drop to the ground from under the table, right in front of them. Mark swallowed, seeing the blood pool out of his side where a bat boomerang lay embedded. He was still breathing, to Mark's own relief. The last thing he needed to see was another dead body. The robber's body was then dragged out of view, it was silent for a few seconds. Except for the faint sound of shuffling.

"It's safe now!" Cass called, breaking the tense silence. Instantly everyone got out of hiding, including him and Dick. People cheered, thanking Black Bat. Her hero's name was Black Bat. Interesting name, but he wasn't one to talk. Mark clapped along because everyone else was so why not? She then returned the money, dragging the two gunmen out of the store. People chatted excitedly as she left.

Dick grinned and pointed at him with a fry, "See? Resolved," Everyone continued as normal, ignoring the shattered window and one overturned table. Mark did not envy the employees who'd have to clean this up.

Mark nodded, "Noted. Does this happen often?"

"Gotham is the most crime-ridden city in the US. So, yeah."

"And people choose to live here?" Dick laughed at his comment, but Mark was serious.

"No, not really. But it has its nice parts. Like this burger!" Mark scoffed, grinning a little. Yeah, the burger was nice, he had to give Dick that.

Despite the robbery attempt at Batburger, the rest of their time wasn't as dangerous. Dick brought him to parks and popular hotspots and even bought him a few new clothes, insisting that wearing Tim's old junk wasn't good for his soul.

"Listen, Tim has fashion now. But in the past? He didn't. His old clothes aren't doing you justice," Dick had said, all while buying him a shirt with a green guy on it.

"Green Lantern?" Mark muttered, holding the shirt up. It said the words in bold letters across the shirt, with a man in tights flying. It was very… green.

Dick nodded, grinning widely. "Yes. I'll buy it for you."

"Uhh, ok?" He was confused as to why Dick was laughing, insisting he wore it around Bruce. Mark went along with it, despite how tacky the shirt was.

In the end, Mark left with a bag of clothes he might never wear, laughing beside Dick. The man was right, he felt… better, after all this. Less tired and fatigued all the time, like breathing was a chore. But deep in his bones, the exhaustion still ached.

But at the moment, his issues seemed trivial. A small nagging he could ignore for the time being.

"Thanks, for all this," Mark said as they walked back into the manor.

"Don't thank me. You needed to get out of the house," Dick said.

Mark shrugged, "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Do you feel any better?"

"A little," which was true, he did feel a little better.

Dick's smile fell a little, "Do you… want to talk about it?" Mark hunched his shoulders, walking up the stairs with Dick. Back to his room, in which he's holed himself in. He had talked to Tim and Damian, but it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Mark didn't want to ruin… whatever this was by dumping his trash.

"I… I don't know."

"It might make you feel better," Tim said the same thing. Dick then raised his hands. "But if you don't want to, that's fine. I won't push," he knew it would make him feel better. Last night proved that. But it felt like something was holding him back from spilling, even though he… trusted Dick. To an extent. Despite knowing him for only a week and a half.

"No. I… umm, Dick?" Mark stopped outside his room, turning to the man.

"What's up?"

Mark shifted where he stood, "Have you ever while working as a hero, let people die?"

A dark shadow entered Dick's eyes, a look he's never seen before. Mark tensed, opening his mouth to apologize and take it back, but Dick had already spoken. "Yes. Quite a few times, actually," his gaze softened, looking at Mark with nothing but sympathy. "Is that what happened, Mark?"

"Sort of. I just can't help but feel… like I failed. As a hero, I mean," Here he goes again.

"Oh Mark," Dick said, his voice quiet and soft. Mark's eyes stung a little, he looked away from Dick. He felt pathetic for wanting to cry at the tone of his voice. "I've failed a lot as a hero. Too many times to count. It happens, we aren't perfect people. Failure is part of life."

"Yeah," Mark muttered, his voice thick. The way Dick talked almost reminded him of his mom, which made his chest ache horribly. Yearning to lean against her side, hear her comforting voice. "Did… you have parents, right?"

"Oh! Uh," Dick scratched the back of his head, "Biological ones? Not anymore. They died."

"Shit I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's fine! It happened forever ago. I mean, I still miss them. But it's not such a sensitive subject anymore," Dick frowned. "Why'd you ask?"

"Never mind," Mark quickly muttered, opening his bedroom door. Why did he say that? "Thanks, for buying me all this stuff. I appreciate it."

"No problem. If you ever want to hang out, I'm up for it," Dick said, his brows still furrowed with concern.

"Yeah…thanks," Mark muttered, walking into his room and closing the door.

God, he's such an idiot. He threw the clothes into a corner and leaned against the door. He shouldn't have asked Dick about his parents. What was he thinking? Sure, he didn't have a negative reaction, but Mark still felt bad about asking. It's none of his business.

Why'd he have to bring up his shit? He should've let the day end right then and there.

However, part of him was relieved to have talked to Dick, what little he did. About being a hero. Failure was a part of life, Mark knew that. But he couldn't help but feel guilty for all those people who died at the hands of him and his father. Dick was right, of course, but if he knew the whole truth. Everything. Would he still say the same words? Tim and Damian hadn't blamed him, they understood, and Dick probably would too.

Mark sat on his bed, staring at the floor. Telling Dick felt more daunting than Tim and Damian. Was it because he was closer to Dick than the others? They had grown a friendship, a small, fragile one. He just didn't want Dick to be disappointed, or any of the Batfamily, for that matter.

A horrible part of him believed they would blame Mark for not stopping his dad. Which was ridiculous, the Batfamily was chaotic and strange, but full of kind people. Damian included, despite his attitude. Mark shook his head, he wasn't going to think about this again.

His eyes landed on the bag of clothes in the corner of his room. He could… try on his new clothes instead.

Bruce's eye twitched. "Nice shirt," he gritted through his teeth. Mark smiled at Bruce, wearing his Green Lantern shirt. "May I ask why you chose it?"

"I liked it," Mark said, lying through his teeth. It was atrocious. Way too much green that didn't look good on him.

"Hey B, I'm gonna steal some parts from one of your vehicles-" Jason started, walking through the living room. Only to stop at the sight of Bruce's pinched face and Mark's shirt. He snorted, "Nice shirt, it really brings out your eyes."

"Thanks."

"Did Dick put you up to this?" Bruce muttered, eyeing him.

"No? Why would you think that?" Mark said, completely innocent. Jason chuckled, looking far too amused at Bruce's face. Pinched and disgusted, as if he ate a sourberry.

"No reason. I've got work to do," Bruce said, quickly making an exit. Mark could no longer stifle his giggles, Jason bursting out into laughter as well.

"Holy shit! Good work Mark," Jason said, wiping a tear from his eye.

Mark grinned, "What's his deal anyways?"

"It's stupid. B has some weird vendetta against Green Lantern, they don't get along."

"Like enemies?"

"Nah, more like coworkers who tolerate each other," Jason said. He seemed pleased, giving him a proud grin. Yeah, this was way better than moping in his room. "Anyways, wanna help me steal some car parts from Bruce?" Jason said, jerking a thumb behind him.

Mark probably shouldn't… "Sure," but it would take his mind off things.

"Awesome. Don't worry about B, he's fucking rich, he'll survive," yeah, Mark wasn't going to regret this at all.