Robin panted from both the exertion of the fight and from the hurt of Isellta’s betrayal. He looked up at the guard. “Fine. Go ahead. Shoot.”
“What’s going on here?”
“Antioch. Sir. We found this hooligan in the control room.”
“That hooligan is my son. I would be deeply grateful if you did not shoot him.”
“Whaaaaa?” The guard stood. “I didn’t realize you even had a son.”
“We can discuss this later. Go.”
The guard helped his fallen comrade up and they wandered off, muttering about Antioch’s illegitimate son.
Antioch crouched beside him. “Robin?”
Robin clasped his hands to the sides of his head as the voices started calling his name again.
“I’m sorry. Son.”
Robin glared at him. “I ain’t your son.”
“I am aware of that. But can’t we try—-”
“To do what? Play father and son? Right after your heavies tried to kill me? Yeah. Have fun in your freakin’ fantasy world.”
“They were not following my orders.”
Robin’s anger deserted him, leaving him hollow and hurt. “I know.” He stood and started to look over at the monitors, but stopped.
If this was his doing, I don’t want to look at him. I don’t…
I don’t understand.
Why would he do this to me?
“I’m going home now. ‘Bye.”
“So, you’re pushing me away again?”
“Because I can’t talk right now. I just…”
He shook his head and ran out of the room.
Isellta quietly sat down on the chair.
I don’t understand.
Why didn’t he come back to me?
He must have known that I was worried about him.
Why did he leave without saying good-bye?
It doesn’t make sense.
His shoulders slumped.
I just don’t understand.
Raven walked into the kitchen.
Missy was still hard at work, trying to perfect her drawing technique.
She was still failing.
Her house was still a rectangle with a triangle perched drunkenly on top.
He pulled out the chair next to her and sat.
She tried one more time.
Rectangle with a triangle on top.
She threw her pen down in disgust.
“Raven. Why can’t I draw what’s inside my head I can see what I want to draw I can see how I want to draw but this pre-kindergarten junk drawing keeps coming out why can’t I draw it why Raven why can’t I why I don’t understand I don’t I don’t I don’t.”
“Calm down. As I said earlier, I’ll draw it for you.”
“Well. There are two ways we could go about this: You could describe it to me.”
She shook her head. “I’m not so good at describing things that aren’t your pretty shirtless chest.”
He laughed. “Is that so?”
“Yep.” She stared fixedly at the buttons on his shirt.
“The other way we could go about this…I’m unsure if you will approve of this one.”
“Try me I might surprise you and be all for it.”
“I suppose that is possible. Let me in your mind, Missy. Let me see that memory. I will draw it for you.”
She grabbed her pen and tried to draw it again.
Not what she was aiming to draw.
She set the pen down. “You really want to see that memory, don’t you?”
He looked down at Bad Drawing of a House #571. His thoughts drifted to her showing Antioch her memories. “Will it hurt you?”
She didn’t reply.
He looked up at her. “If you show me that memory, will it hurt you?”
Missy shrugged. “I don’t know it might bring up other memories it might hurt to remember I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.”
“Missy. Calm down. This is your choice to make. What would be easier for you? What would you rather do?”
She picked up the pen and hesitated.
“It is your choice. I will not influence you.”
She handed the pen to him. “I’ll try to describe it to you.”
“As you wish, miss.”