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eldabeTitle: Don't Tell Me Not to Fly
Fandom(s): DC Comics
Character(s): Lian Harper.
Rating: PG-13 for some creepiness.
Summary: Lian Harper came back to life in a world where heroes and villains never seem to stay dead. Now old enough to hold her own as a hero, Lian searches out the undisputed master of non-powered heroes in an age of superpowers. But Lian might not be the only one that has come back to life...
Acknowledgments:draconic_voices was the most fantastic beta ever, putting up with my absolute writer insanity. All remaining mistakes are completely mine. And thanks to iceshade, who shoved me back on track when I plateaued.
Complement:bliumchik put together an amazing mix to go along with this fic. It can be found here.
Flight Masterpost
Interlude: Just Because You're Paranoid Doesn't Mean They're Not Out to Get You
Chapter Four
Bruce liked her theories, or, at least, he didn’t dislike them. He pondered her for a few minutes Monday night, and then sent her out to cover the city with Damian. Lian liked patrolling best, the constant motion keeping her busy between the brief moments of action. It was way better than detective work or stakeouts. Maybe she’d be an Oracle operative when she grew up – all of the fun stuff, the saving people and important work without the tedium before and after. Dad would probably have a fit, but Aunt Dinah would be proud.
Lian kept a sharp out eye on her patrol. Only one fire in the last ten days, but she was still too on edge to relax. Jess complained about it, so they went to see a chick flick with a bunch of girls on the floor. Halfway through, Iris showed up and made sarcastic comments under her breath before she got bored and bought everyone popcorn. From Brazil.
Bruce left to consult on a case, and left Tim in charge of Gotham. Lian wasn’t sure exactly where that put her on the hierarchy, so she arrived at the cave early on Wednesday and set about practicing her shooting.
She pulled a few handguns out of the armory, and one rifle for fun. She strung a longbow and a recurve bow and set them both down next to the guns. Lian was fully aware that if she wanted to keep training she wasn’t allowed to shoot a gun in the field for as long as she remained in Gotham. She also knew that if she planned to keep any semblance of her crackshot aim, she was going to have to practice, practice, practice. This wasn’t going to a part of her typical Bat-training; this was on her own time.
Lian took aim at the targets and shot. She worked her way first through each of her guns before moving on to her bows, concentrating on aiming for head, chest, and groin. Then, slightly more challenging: left arm, right hand, kneecaps. She set the targets in motion to give herself a harder challenge: high on the right shoulder; left calf. The goal was to cripple or disable, but not to kill unless absolutely necessary. She ran out of arrows, and popped another clip into one of the guns to start the whole exercise again.
They still hadn’t figured out who had planted the weird table. Maxius Zeus was a possibility, as he was out of prison, but he was last spotted in Vegas, so it was unlikely. Lian shoved the shatterproof goggles back up her nose and swung the gun around. She smacked the button to increase the speed the targets moved and concentrated on firing continuously.
Knee, elbow, elbow, shoulder, knee, hand, hand, kneekneeknee
The gun clicked twice before she registered that she was out of bullets. Lian huffed, then jumped a foot in the air as she felt someone tap her shoulder.
She twisted around, changing her grip on the gun to bring it down on the head of—a slightly amused Tim Drake. She pulled off the earmuffs.
“Nice shots.” Tim observed wryly. “Having a bad week?”
Lian looked back at the targets. They were all frayed at the edges. She might not have aimed for lethal shots, but someone would have bled out at this point.
“Just practicing.” She answered, moving to clean the weapons before she put them away. Tim walked with her. Lian still wasn’t sure what their relationship was exactly, nearly five months into this arrangement. Bruce was officially her mentor, and she hadn’t had much contact with Tim. He was normally off with the current satellite League, representing the Bat-clan to the rest of the universe. Lian unstrung one of her bows and noticed that he was wearing jeans. She suppressed a giggle.
“So, I realized that we’ve never really worked together.” Tim paused. “For training,” he clarified.
This was Tim, Lian thought. The Tim that Uncle Dick used to refer to as his little brother.
“Detective work?” Lian asked, trying to keep the groan out of her voice. Obviously, Tim Drake would be the best person in the world to give her detective training. This was the man who had figured out Batman’s real identity as a kid. He could probably take her on a stakeout and teach her all sorts of methods of observation she hadn’t mastered yet. It was all important. It was just all a bit boring.
Tim blinked. “I was thinking of sparring, actually. But if you’d rather…”
Lian fought against the little voice in the back of head that was insisting that detective work would probably be pretty useful. “No, sparring is great. Just give me a minute.” She tucked the weapons away and went to change.
When she re-emerged, Tim had a headset on and was talking to Damian. She could tell, because his voice had taken on a tense air of authority. “-probably not for a few hours, so you can cover the sweep. Report back on anything important.”
Lian could hold her own while sparring with Damian, so she was pretty confidant. She knew how to fight, albeit mostly with weapons. But she had been trained to defend herself even before she had died, and afterward Dad had made sure she could protect herself in an emergency. And while Dad taught her how to fight with almost any weapon at hand, Aunt Dinah taught her jiu-jitsu, Uncle Connor taught her everything he had learned, and Uncle Dick used to teach her acrobatics and capoeira.
Tim had trained with Lady Shiva and fought alongside Cassandra Cain. He used to type his observations with one hand while holding his own in battle, he could totally teach Lian something.
When she got to the sparring mats, Tim was holding a bo stick in one hand and twisting it absently over his arms, across his back. Lian pulled another one from the wall and brought it forward, testing the weight.
Tim brought his bo around and they started to spar. Sparring with Tim was interesting. He wasn’t as light on her as her Dad or Uncle Ollie, but he wasn’t as tough as Damian, who always fought like he had something to prove. Tim was fast and experienced, and he kept her moving, but most of his blows were soft enough that she knew he wasn’t pushing hard.
He always went straight for her weak spots, which weren’t numerous or large, but his aim was nearly perfect after years of practice. Every time he swung his staff, Lian would have to adjust, fixing her stance, her grip and her position.
Tim brought his staff around suddenly and Lian twisted away, using her own bo to protect her exposed arm from his strike when the speakers on the comm system crackled to life.
“Drake? I believe we have a situation.”
Lian stopped, and Tim sprinted to the edge of the mat to pick up his earpiece. Before he could activate it, Damian continued.
“And if Harper is there, you should probably bring her along as well. This is on her patrol.”
~*~*~
The body was a man about Jai’s age, but with blond hair. He was dressed in full boy scout uniform, the sash with all of his pins and his hat lying, neatly arranged, next to his head. There was no visible cause of death, but Lian knew that they would check carefully for something obvious - obvious, at least, to the two Bats standing with her - before calling it in.
Tim-Batman-was crouching over the scout’s hand, where a piece of meat had been carefully sewn to his palm.
“What is it?” Lian asked, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Damian.
“Human liver,” Batman responded, removing a small piece for DNA analysis.
Lian felt her stomach go cold. She started examining the merit badges, only paying slight attention to Damian and Tim.
“If it hasn’t been removed from this body, then there is possibly a second homicide.” Damian pointed out.
“We’ll run a check on police records,” Tim stated. Lian found the badge she was looking for on the scout’s lapel.
“But why leave a boy scout on the roof of the LexCorp building?” Damian said, frustrated.
“Eagle scout.” Lian corrected. She couldn’t take her eyes off the lapel pin, an eagle with wings spread, launching into flight.
Interlude: All the Things that Can Kill You Somehow
Fandom(s): DC Comics
Character(s): Lian Harper.
Rating: PG-13 for some creepiness.
Summary: Lian Harper came back to life in a world where heroes and villains never seem to stay dead. Now old enough to hold her own as a hero, Lian searches out the undisputed master of non-powered heroes in an age of superpowers. But Lian might not be the only one that has come back to life...
Acknowledgments:
draconic_voices was the most fantastic beta ever, putting up with my absolute writer insanity. All remaining mistakes are completely mine. And thanks to iceshade, who shoved me back on track when I plateaued.Complement:
bliumchik put together an amazing mix to go along with this fic. It can be found here. Flight Masterpost
Interlude: Just Because You're Paranoid Doesn't Mean They're Not Out to Get You
Chapter Four
Bruce liked her theories, or, at least, he didn’t dislike them. He pondered her for a few minutes Monday night, and then sent her out to cover the city with Damian. Lian liked patrolling best, the constant motion keeping her busy between the brief moments of action. It was way better than detective work or stakeouts. Maybe she’d be an Oracle operative when she grew up – all of the fun stuff, the saving people and important work without the tedium before and after. Dad would probably have a fit, but Aunt Dinah would be proud.
Lian kept a sharp out eye on her patrol. Only one fire in the last ten days, but she was still too on edge to relax. Jess complained about it, so they went to see a chick flick with a bunch of girls on the floor. Halfway through, Iris showed up and made sarcastic comments under her breath before she got bored and bought everyone popcorn. From Brazil.
Bruce left to consult on a case, and left Tim in charge of Gotham. Lian wasn’t sure exactly where that put her on the hierarchy, so she arrived at the cave early on Wednesday and set about practicing her shooting.
She pulled a few handguns out of the armory, and one rifle for fun. She strung a longbow and a recurve bow and set them both down next to the guns. Lian was fully aware that if she wanted to keep training she wasn’t allowed to shoot a gun in the field for as long as she remained in Gotham. She also knew that if she planned to keep any semblance of her crackshot aim, she was going to have to practice, practice, practice. This wasn’t going to a part of her typical Bat-training; this was on her own time.
Lian took aim at the targets and shot. She worked her way first through each of her guns before moving on to her bows, concentrating on aiming for head, chest, and groin. Then, slightly more challenging: left arm, right hand, kneecaps. She set the targets in motion to give herself a harder challenge: high on the right shoulder; left calf. The goal was to cripple or disable, but not to kill unless absolutely necessary. She ran out of arrows, and popped another clip into one of the guns to start the whole exercise again.
They still hadn’t figured out who had planted the weird table. Maxius Zeus was a possibility, as he was out of prison, but he was last spotted in Vegas, so it was unlikely. Lian shoved the shatterproof goggles back up her nose and swung the gun around. She smacked the button to increase the speed the targets moved and concentrated on firing continuously.
Knee, elbow, elbow, shoulder, knee, hand, hand, kneekneeknee
The gun clicked twice before she registered that she was out of bullets. Lian huffed, then jumped a foot in the air as she felt someone tap her shoulder.
She twisted around, changing her grip on the gun to bring it down on the head of—a slightly amused Tim Drake. She pulled off the earmuffs.
“Nice shots.” Tim observed wryly. “Having a bad week?”
Lian looked back at the targets. They were all frayed at the edges. She might not have aimed for lethal shots, but someone would have bled out at this point.
“Just practicing.” She answered, moving to clean the weapons before she put them away. Tim walked with her. Lian still wasn’t sure what their relationship was exactly, nearly five months into this arrangement. Bruce was officially her mentor, and she hadn’t had much contact with Tim. He was normally off with the current satellite League, representing the Bat-clan to the rest of the universe. Lian unstrung one of her bows and noticed that he was wearing jeans. She suppressed a giggle.
“So, I realized that we’ve never really worked together.” Tim paused. “For training,” he clarified.
This was Tim, Lian thought. The Tim that Uncle Dick used to refer to as his little brother.
“Detective work?” Lian asked, trying to keep the groan out of her voice. Obviously, Tim Drake would be the best person in the world to give her detective training. This was the man who had figured out Batman’s real identity as a kid. He could probably take her on a stakeout and teach her all sorts of methods of observation she hadn’t mastered yet. It was all important. It was just all a bit boring.
Tim blinked. “I was thinking of sparring, actually. But if you’d rather…”
Lian fought against the little voice in the back of head that was insisting that detective work would probably be pretty useful. “No, sparring is great. Just give me a minute.” She tucked the weapons away and went to change.
When she re-emerged, Tim had a headset on and was talking to Damian. She could tell, because his voice had taken on a tense air of authority. “-probably not for a few hours, so you can cover the sweep. Report back on anything important.”
Lian could hold her own while sparring with Damian, so she was pretty confidant. She knew how to fight, albeit mostly with weapons. But she had been trained to defend herself even before she had died, and afterward Dad had made sure she could protect herself in an emergency. And while Dad taught her how to fight with almost any weapon at hand, Aunt Dinah taught her jiu-jitsu, Uncle Connor taught her everything he had learned, and Uncle Dick used to teach her acrobatics and capoeira.
Tim had trained with Lady Shiva and fought alongside Cassandra Cain. He used to type his observations with one hand while holding his own in battle, he could totally teach Lian something.
When she got to the sparring mats, Tim was holding a bo stick in one hand and twisting it absently over his arms, across his back. Lian pulled another one from the wall and brought it forward, testing the weight.
Tim brought his bo around and they started to spar. Sparring with Tim was interesting. He wasn’t as light on her as her Dad or Uncle Ollie, but he wasn’t as tough as Damian, who always fought like he had something to prove. Tim was fast and experienced, and he kept her moving, but most of his blows were soft enough that she knew he wasn’t pushing hard.
He always went straight for her weak spots, which weren’t numerous or large, but his aim was nearly perfect after years of practice. Every time he swung his staff, Lian would have to adjust, fixing her stance, her grip and her position.
Tim brought his staff around suddenly and Lian twisted away, using her own bo to protect her exposed arm from his strike when the speakers on the comm system crackled to life.
“Drake? I believe we have a situation.”
Lian stopped, and Tim sprinted to the edge of the mat to pick up his earpiece. Before he could activate it, Damian continued.
“And if Harper is there, you should probably bring her along as well. This is on her patrol.”
~*~*~
The body was a man about Jai’s age, but with blond hair. He was dressed in full boy scout uniform, the sash with all of his pins and his hat lying, neatly arranged, next to his head. There was no visible cause of death, but Lian knew that they would check carefully for something obvious - obvious, at least, to the two Bats standing with her - before calling it in.
Tim-Batman-was crouching over the scout’s hand, where a piece of meat had been carefully sewn to his palm.
“What is it?” Lian asked, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Damian.
“Human liver,” Batman responded, removing a small piece for DNA analysis.
Lian felt her stomach go cold. She started examining the merit badges, only paying slight attention to Damian and Tim.
“If it hasn’t been removed from this body, then there is possibly a second homicide.” Damian pointed out.
“We’ll run a check on police records,” Tim stated. Lian found the badge she was looking for on the scout’s lapel.
“But why leave a boy scout on the roof of the LexCorp building?” Damian said, frustrated.
“Eagle scout.” Lian corrected. She couldn’t take her eyes off the lapel pin, an eagle with wings spread, launching into flight.
Interlude: All the Things that Can Kill You Somehow
