Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Caelus

I trailed my hands across the sky and felt free of the burden that was mine.

There was no way to hide the flinch.  Dick moved away from the sound far too violently for it to go unnoticed by anyone, let alone Bruce .  The slap of the metal cord as it recoiled, echoed in Dick's ears long after the line had broken.  Bruce however, did not comment on Dick’s jump back from the table where Bruce worked testing the grappling lines. Bruce was not in his suit as he would have normally been at this hour.  The gallery opening would be taking the evenings attention instead of Gotham's underworld. Dick was grateful that he was not required to accompany Bruce to the exhibit on postmodern surrealism that Bruce would undoubtedly be suffering through all evening.  

“Do you need anything before I head out?” Dick glanced over his shoulder as he clasped his cape into place.  

“No, I think I have everything under control, Dick.  What time will you be back?” Bruce pushed up his safety goggles and swiveled to face his ward.  

“Umm… I should be back by noon tomorrow, Wally has a science thing in the afternoon.  We are still on for tomorrow night..right?”  

“Yes.” Bruce promised.  Even if it meant he would have to get up at an ungodly hour for the rest of the week, he would make sure that tomorrow night was free for just the two of them.  

The month had been a busy one for Bruce and he had not had a lot of opportunities to spend as much time as he would have liked with Dick.  Between, Superman asking for help looking into LexCorp dealings, and endless board meetings, it felt as if Bruce had barely seen Dick. Dick’s absence from the gallery opening would pain him, but Dick had been looking forward to spending time with his friend all week.

 “Have fun at Wally’s.”  Bruce tore his eyes away from Dick loading his R-Cycle and turned back to the grappling guns.  

Dick speed out of the cave, and into Gotham.  The early night air held a slight chill and whipped against his cheeks as he rode.  The R-Cycle was exhilarating but still did not have the same appeal as grappling through the city.  Maybe Dick could convince Bruce to look into adapting the bike with the new Wayne tech hovercraft engine that was being developed.  

All too quickly Robin pulled up to the zeta entrance.  Slipping off the R-Cycle, he walked it over to the old phone booth so he could punch in the code for the cave.  After parking his bike carefully next to M’gann’s bioship Robin slinked back to the mountain’s secondary zeta point.  Bruce had worried that the zeta tube, in Gotham, would be too easily located if Dick hid the R-Cycle near it too often and so the expensive zeta tech had been added to the caves hangar deck.  The league had given up telling Batman that the zeta beams were too expensive to be so near each other.  

Robin had laughed watching the league debate the proposed budget for the installation.  Hal had scoffed saying “But there’s already one two floors up from the hangar.” It had really been amusing to watch the heroes shift uncomfortably as Batman stared down the rest of the league, silently challenging them to take Hal’s side.  

“He could just park his bike upstairs…” Flash shrunk under Batman’s glare.  

“That would be impractical for missions that require separate transportation, repairs and refueling.” 

Superman cleared his throat, sensing Bruce’s ire rising. “All in favor of passing this month’s budget?” Every hand raised. Including a scowling Hal Jordan. 

A small chuckle died in Robin’s throat thinking about Bruce’s overprotective tendencies. Dick adjusted his bag on his shoulder and punched in the code to send him to Central City

The evening passed in typical Wally fashion,  with the consumption of food, food, and even more food.  It had been a while since they had the opportunity to hang out.  No masks, no mentors, and no interruptions. It felt good to be two teenage boys just kicking back, playing games, and stuffing their faces with pizza and soda,  something Alfred would have frowned about. However, tonight Dick couldn't bring himself to think about that.  

“And then, so get this,  I just reached out and pulled the turtle off her.”  Wally said between gasps as he struggled to compose himself.  

“Bet she wasn’t whelmed at all.” 

 Wally shook a slice of pizza in Dick’s direction and nodded fervently. 

“Boys, we're turning in ok?” Wally’s mom stuck her head around the bedroom door.

“Ok, thanks Mom.” 

“Thanks Mrs. West.  I really appreciate you having me over,” Dick ducked his head as she sent him a bright smile.

“Just wake us if you boys need anything.”  And with that she was gone.

“So anyway, after we got the turtle back…”  

It was nights like this that reminded Dick most of his time in the circus.  No the West’s house wasn’t as loud, or filled with clowns or animals, but there was something about the normality of having Wally’s mom peeking in.  Or the way Wally’s dad would grab his wife from behind just to hold her for a moment. Wally would of course mime vomiting whenever this happened, but Dick loved it.   

It wasn’t that he didn’t love the way Alfred would brush off snow from his shoulders or hand him a cup of tea when he came in from the rain.  Dick loved how Bruce would show up unplanned to pick Dick up from school, or how he would smile at Dick in a way that was real. No the family Dick had found, was good and he loved it. But Wally’s house was special.   At Wally’s house there was dancing in the kitchen, and food fights. Sometimes it was just nice to be able to see that kind of love again.  

“So now it's just swimming in the school pool right?  And everyone is too scared to go in and get it out. But the pool has chlorine in it.  So Karen is just screaming that it's going to die in there right?”  

Dick smiled, but it had nothing to do with Wally’s tale. Yeah. There was something about Wally’s house that just made him ache.  But it wasn't a painful ache as it once was. No. Now it was kinda a nice ache.

“...and that’s when the fire department showed up.  Hey, you ok? I mean not to toot my own horn or anything, but that has got to be my best out of costume save.”

“What? Oh yeah just thinking, sorry.”

“No worries, anything in particular?”

Dick bit his lip.  He hated to worry Wally.  Gotham was a very different city than Central, a  darker city. “Just left half my mind in Gotham. B’s been really busy with work and its left me with a lot to cover.  I am not complaining, I mean B is counting on me and really putting his trust in me.”

Wally nodded in understanding, “But you don’t want to let him down.” 

“Yeah.  But really it’s fine, just got some cases turning around in my head.  The Falcones have been more active lately.” Dick laid back against Wally’s shoulder, closing his eyes. 

“It's so cool, you are getting to do case work on your own.  I wish Uncle Barry would let me do more solo stuff.”

Dick remained quiet, Wally was right.  Solo work was cool, and Dick treasured the way Batman would smile, well the muscle on his right cheek would twitch, when Dick solved a particularly difficult case, or made an impressive save.  Then there was the fact that Dick was the most experienced member of the team. He should be enjoying solo work more, shouldn’t he?

The next morning both boys overslept leaving Dick racing to get back to the batcave before noon.  Yeah, he could have easily texted Bruce and explained that three pizzas and getting past level ten of the new portal game had taken all night.  But Dick didn’t want to.

It was 11:57 when Dick leaned the R-Cycle on its kickstand and turned to find Batman standing next to the batcomputer.  

“Hey B. How was the gallery?”

“Hrnnn, it was dull.  Did you have fun last night?”

“Yeah it was great.” Dick swung himself up on the desk and leaned against one of the batcomputer’s towers. “Wally got the new Portal game and I modded it to make it harder.  You would not believe the amount of time it took for Wally to notice. And we had pizza from this new place that opened up," Batman turned from the monitor to listen as Dick rambled, "and we started building this catapult for one of Wally’s Science Olympiad tournaments.  I made some program updates that made the targeting system 70% more accurate. I don’t know how it was so bad before. But the person on his team that wrote it missed a whole line of code and then had another two out of order.” 

“I hope you didn’t make the coding too advanced.” 

“Naw, typical high school level.  Don’t worry.” Dick’s smile wavered but only for a moment. 

Bruce frowned, and wondered what he had said wrong. “I wasn’t.”

“What are you looking at?” Dick kicked his legs back and forth as they dangled in midair.

“Oh just looking into Ozwald’s latest financial investment.” Bruce’s eyes flicked back to the screen.  

Tipping his head back to see, Dick frowned. “Why would he buy out a flower shop?  You don’t think he is working with Ivy again do you?”

“Hrnnn, it's possible, but this shop has never been connected to any of her work before.”

“Maybe he's turning over a new leaf.”  Batman’s right cheek twitched.  

“Ah. Master Dick, you are back I see. I have brought lunch, sirs.”  Alfred set a long silver tray down next to Dick on the batcomputer desk.

“Alfred!  You are the best." Dick smiled around his cup of tea.  "How was your night?”   

“It was very quiet,  and allowed me to polish off a novel I’ve been neglecting.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Batman said reaching for a cucumber and cheese sandwich.  

“You are quite welcome, Master Bruce.”

“How did you like the ending, Alf?  Did you cry? I cried when I got to the part where--”

“No!” Bruce’s hand shot out and covered Dick’s mouth. “I haven’t finished yet. No spoilers.”

“Oh right. Sorry, B.” Dick grinned sheepishly. “This discussion will be continued, Alf.”

“Certainly, Master Dick.” 

“Oh. B, what flowers have been ordered since he bought it? Could be a code, or he could be using it as a delivery front.  We should look into if anyone new is making consistent orders since he bought the place.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.  Good idea, Chum.” Batman was suddenly intent on the monitor once more.  

The afternoon passed with Dick swinging about on the uneven bars, occasionally calling out to Batman different ideas on cases as he worked at the computer.  Every now and then Batman would turn to face his ward and watch as he twisted, flipped and spun round on the now warm metal bars. A bubbling pride surfacing whenever Dick completed a new or particularly complex move.  When it was nearing dinner time the two quickly changed and headed up the stone stairs and into the manor.  

Alfred had a strict rule about only serving one meal in the cave, if any, and they had already filled that quota for the day.  When the clock slid back to admit them into Bruce’s office, Dick was suddenly hit with a strong and familiar smell. Surprised by his sudden halting, Bruce walked straight into his ward. “Dick?” Bruce questioned after he  righted the both of them, his hands gripping both of Dick’s shoulders.

“I… It… how did? My mom made something that smelled just like this.”  Dick shook his head as if the smell was clinging to him.

“Oh.” Bruce shifted.  And gave a small squeeze to both of Dick’s shoulders.  “We can have something else.”

“No!  I just was surprised is all….” Dick gave a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Ok.” Bruce’s hands dropped.  

“Just on time, I was about to come and fetch you.” Alfred bustled about laying several dishes on the table.  Dick’s jaw dropped. Sarma, and several stuffed peppers were on a tray in between Bruce and Dick's chairs.  

“Al… I... Thank you.” The pressure at the back of Dick’s eyes had nothing to do with the thick scent of pepper, cabbage, and paprika filling the room. 

“Not at all, Master Dick, not at all.” The butler bowed ever so slightly and pulled out Bruce’s chair.  

The meal was of course incredible.  Anything Alfred made always was. But having Sarma for the first time in four years was overwhelming.  Watching Bruce trying to cut into the cabbage wrapped mince was like something out of a dream. If Dick closed his eyes he could almost imagine his mother and father sitting with them,  could almost hear their laughs.

That evening soaring around Gotham, Robin felt lighter than ever.  It was almost as if gravity had been turned off. Batman and Robin were, for a whole evening, enough for the city.  Every crook and criminal seemed to go down easily and the Dynamic Duo fought as one. It was nights like this that made the mission feel lighter.  Batman watched his partner flip over an assailant, a cackle falling off the boy wonder’s lips as he landed punch after punch. Dinner had been a risk, but the painstaking hours of calling town after town in search of Pop Haly had been worth it.  One of the lion tamers had tucked in the back of a box four recipe cards that had been written by John Grayson’s great grandmother. Bruce’s heart had dropped when Dick froze just smelling the Grayson family recipe. But it had paid off in seeing Dick’s joy eating.  Joy that had spilled over into patrol. Bruce knew that he would never be able to give Dick back even a small amount of what he had given Bruce. Yet seeing that he could return just a portion of that hope and happiness was enough. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Menoetius

Human
Such a curious word that should be longer because it means too much- atlas

Dick should have known it was too good to be true. Monday arrived with a loud wake up call in the form of World History. “Ten pages Babs! Ten! How on earth do they expect us to write that much on the global impact of the Spanish Civil War?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find something insanely obscure that will take up half your essay.” Barbara smirked at her best friend as he laid his head down on the cafe table.

“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night? My dad is working the nightshift so maybe we could have like a movie night?”

Dick frowned into the table. He had been planning to stake out the Penguin’s new flower shop tomorrow night, just to make Bruce feel more comfortable about the new purchase. Looking into order patterns had yielded no leads as to what the new business venture might mean. Dick was inclined to really believe it was an honest investment, not every moment could be dedicated to master plots and crime. Bruce on the other hand had no confidence in human goodness, therefore every criminal was suspect at all times. Guilty until proven innocent as it were. Well, when it came to the usual suspects anyway.

Tonight Dick was training with the team. But Bruce had promised that he could pick what nights he would patrol. He never said that Dick couldn’t double up on team and Gotham duties.

“Yeah. Babs, that sounds great,” Dick grinned up at Barbara. “but can we watch something other than Die Hard? You have to branch out, watch a Disney movie, or a romcom. Please, I am begging you. We can’t keep watching...”

“We’ve watched other stuff”

“Just because you think Alan Rickman is hot.” Dick winked.

Babara turned slightly pink, looked around at nearby tables and hissed, “For the last time, I don’t think Alan Rickman is hot!”

The day passed without further catastrophe, and Dick had forgotten the essay by the time Alfred came to pick him up. Dick slid excitedly into the back seat of the Rolls-Royce, and proceeded to inform the butler of all his plans for the week.

Alfred, who prided himself on being a dignified man with a firm grip on his emotions, couldn’t help but be filled with affection for the boy that chatted so freely from the back seat. It was such a stark difference from the boy that Bruce had brought home that cold day in late April just over four years ago. Dick’s entrance into Alfred’s life had been a shock. Alfred would never in a million years have placed odds on Bruce, the man with a mission, suddenly derailing the militant routine that had become life at Wayne manor. No, when Bruce had come home from the circus, Alfred couldn’t have predicted what would follow. The rage that filled Bruce’s eyes that night usually meant no sleep for Alfred and a high probability of medical treatment for Bruce. Instead it lead to two weeks of endless phone calls, with Gotham’s children’s services, yelling at officials, and endless threats of lawsuits. Until finally a small boy with haunted eyes arrived at Wayne manor.

Alfred had resigned himself to the assumption that he was now the carer of what would be two brooding boys, traumatized beyond repair. However, after a few weeks of silent meals and shy shuffling around. Dick had given Alfred and Bruce the shock of a lifetime. In retrospect, it had been a small moment, certainly nothing on what was now considered normal for the boy, but it had made the two realize something incredible.

Bruce had come home late the night before and was more tired than usual. So when he placed salt in his and Dick's tea that Alfred had laid out, it was not fully without excuse. Bruce had taken a sip of the unfortunate concoction and spewed it all down the front of his coat. All of which would have been an event of little consequence, however, it was the first time Alfred would hear Dick Grayson laugh. Miracles upon miracles, it was also the first time in fourteen years he had seen a true smile from Bruce Wayne.

No, nothing had really prepared Alfred for the young man in the back seat, who in that moment had wormed his way so completely into Alfred’s heart. But Alfred was a dignified man, so he would never admit to such. In fact, he was very determined to keep his feelings in check, as it would be very unbecoming to show them to his charge, and so he was ever so careful not to show Dick how thoroughly he had him wrapped around his little finger.

Alfred drove through Gotham and dropped Dick off near the Zeta tube before making his way back to the manor. This had been an old routine they had used when the league had still operated out of Mount Justice. It had allowed Dick to easily visit Bruce during the school year if the league kept him away. Now that the team was based at the mountain, it made sense for them to start using the old pattern once more.

Alfred watched as Dick slipped out of the car, now wearing his hoodie and sunglasses, and made his way to the old telephone booth. The absence of Dick’s chatter only pained Alfred slightly on the rest of the journey back to Wayne Manor.

Having Team training and going on a solo patrol in the same day was going to be pushing it, but Dick reasoned that a stake out was mostly sitting, so really Bruce couldn’t complain that he was pushing himself too much. Yeah, Bruce wouldn’t be happy but they had agreed that Dick could pick what two school nights he could go out. So if one of those nights also coincided with other masked activities then so be it. A deal was a deal.

By the time the team had gathered in the mountain, Robin had already done a light warm up, stretched and then performed a series of floor routines that were a mixture of gymnastics and Aikido forms he and Bruce had adapted together. Wally had, as always, been the last to arrive.

“It is important to always be able to understand one another during a mission. A good way to do this is to have pre-agreed upon terms and maneuvers.” Black Canary said, splitting the team off into pairs.

Robin smiled. Batman made Robin learn them when they were first developed by the league. He and Batman had been using them for years.

“For example," Black Canary continued, "if I were to say to any member of the league M7 they would all know that I wanted to be thrown into the air at a 45 degree angle. Likewise you all need to be able to communicate in high pressure situations and be able to work together.”

Robin worked to adjust his speed and strength to work with whatever team member he was partnering. The moves were second nature when Bruce was the one on the other end acting as a springboard, but when you changed the height of the person, and gave them powers it was a whole nother game.

With Kaldur he had to change the angle of his jump, Kaldur was nowhere near as tall as Batman. With M’gann he had to remember not to push off as hard, she tended to throw him telepathically. Wally’s speed made it difficult for him to slow down in the heat of a fight. So Dick worked to be faster in training. That way if they ever did a maneuver in battle the timing wouldn’t change as much. Artemis was easy. They both seemed to understand the need to adjust. So while Robin worked to compensate for her height and strength, she worked on lowering her center of gravity giving Robin a more stable base to leap from. Working with Artemis was the most familiar. They both were fully human, and knew the consequences of a mistake in a way no one else on the team would.

Then there was Conner. Being new to well, everything, made it hard to understand that not everyone had the same limits. Dick watched apprehensively as Conner accidentally tossed M’gann into the cave’s ceiling. Luckily she simply phased through it and flew down to the ground again. But Conner was a red as the S on his chest.
“Sorry.” Conner shuffled his feet inspecting his laces.

“That's ok, Conner. It was kinda fun!” M’gann beamed. The ease with which she brushed off the accident quickly put Conner in a better mood and he continued without further incident.

“Ok this next one, I like to call the slingshot.” Black Canary smirked showing them a holographic break down of the maneuver.

“So just swing you around three times and let go?” Conner looked nervously at Robin.

“Yeah just you know, don’t throw me too hard, like maybe 10% of full strength? And we can go from there.” The first try was abysmal. Conner had barely lifted Robin’s feet from the ground. The second, he let go to quickly. By the Fifth attempt Superboy was far from whelmed.

“You want to take a break?” Dick asked rubbing his right wrist through his glove.

“Yeah sure, Did… Did I … Is your arm ok?”

“What? Yeah, SB just itchy.” Dick let out a slight chuckle and pulled off his glove to show the skin was slightly red. “See probably just needs a good powdering from Agent A,” he said, inspecting the inside of his glove. Dick pretended to not see Conner’s look of relief. The thing with M’gann must have really shaken him.

The rest of the team broke up as they finished, and headed to various locations in the cave. Once Kaldur and Artemis were finally dismissed by Black Canary. Robin stood from where he was perched on a stalagmite and leapt down next to Conner.

“Wanna give it another go?” Robin tilted his head looking up at his friend.

“If you’re sure your wrist is ok?” Conner rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah totally traught SB.”

Superboy’s shoulders relaxed just slightly, and he gave Robin a small smile.

Black Canary glanced at them before silently leaving the training room. Best to let them work out the move without an audience, she decided. Robin had done it more than enough times with various members of the league.

Rolling his shoulders, Robin skipped over to the mats. “Ok, SB you got this, really I trust you to catch me if you get me too high, and I have my grapple if I need it.” Robin patted his belt.

Conner nodded and joined Robin. “Ready.”

Then Robin was running, and leaping with his arms stretched to Superboy. Conner reached out and clasped Robin’s gloved arm and began to spin. Dick smiled Conner had it. It was the right speed and angle. It was going to be perfect. Dick laughed as he was spun by SB. Then suddenly Dick felt Conner stop. However, at the moment Dick expected him to let go, Conner tightened his grip. There was a sickening pop, as Dick arm was simultaneously pulled to a stop and the rest of his body continued forward with the momentum of the spin. Fire erupted in Robin’s shoulder.

Suddenly Robin lay on the mat with no memory of getting there. Turning his head, Dick looked down at his now mangled arm and suppressed the urge to be sick. His shoulder was pulled from the socket and the ball of the joint was now pressed forward creating a large bulge near his collarbone. There were voices shouting. But Robin paid them no attention. Instead he carefully inhaled counted to ten then exhaled, repeat.

Fighting the need to vomit, Robin stood. A voice at the back of his mind, that sounded surprisingly like Batman, was telling him to move. Find the danger. Assess the situation, and make a plan of action. Robin’s shoulder would prevent him from being any assistance in a fight. So he needed to assess the situation and get back up if necessary. Looking around it became clear that the source of the shouting was Conner. Robin tensed and pulled a batarang from his belt. He then felt sheepish as he realized Conner was not punching or fighting, anyone. So there was likely no lingering danger. Robin quickly placed the weapon back in its place.

“You absolute idiot. You can’t just run into the middle of the training room! You could have gotten him killed.” Conner face was flushed with a level of rage that Dick had never scene on the boy’s face.

Wally looked frozen in place, but Dick knew he was moving faster than his eyes could follow. Wally’s eyes were wide and watery, as Superboy continued to shout at him. Robin frowned and glanced around the training room. There was no one else there. Who was Conner so upset about Wally hurting. Then it hit him, the reason Conner hadn’t let go. Wally must have run in without looking and been right were Conner was about to throw him. Dick chanced another look at his shoulder. Yep still bad. A quick peek under his tunic revealed that the skin was starting to purple and swell. Dick sank back on to the mat, realizing there was no further danger.

“Umm guys, not that I don’t enjoy listening to you talk, but could you get BC?” Dick did not want to set this himself, and painkillers sounded nice.

Wally finally got a look at his best friend when Conner turned to look at Robin. He began crying in earnest. Without a word the speedster vanished. Conner paled looking at Dicks arm.

“I… I am so sorry. I panicked. One second it was fine then he was there. I just panicked and tried to stop.” Conner knelt in front of Dick, his eyes wide.

“It’s ok SB, I'll be right as rain once this is set, and iced for a bit.” Dick went back to controlling his breathing. Sitting down had in all honesty probably been a bad idea. Dick didn’t think he would be getting up on his own anytime soon. In fact now that the adrenaline was wearing off, it was much harder to focus on maintaining controlled breaths that wouldn’t jar his shoulder. “Conner? Um I need a bucket.”

Dick felt the air move as Conner sped to the trash can near the door. Conner may not be as fast as Wally but he sure could move when it counted. No sooner did Conner push the can under Dick's nose, than Dick's stomach ejected his lunch.

“Crap, dude. I am so sorry.”

Pushing the can away. Dick closed his eyes. “It happens. Conner, I promise it’s ok. I’m not mad.”

“Robin!” Black Canary swept into the room, took in the scene, and cursed under her breath. “Ok, I got you.” She dropped down looking at the dislocated joint, and started pulling supplies out of a medkit she had brought. Robin smiled at Conner reassuringly as he was stabbed with a needle. The relief of Lidocaine was not quite strong enough to mask the pain of Black Canary twisting and pulling his arm into back into alignment before finally popping it back in its joint. But Dick was Robin and Robin was tough. So he smiled and bit the inside of his lip so he wouldn’t scream.

“Thanks BC, if it’s ok with you, I think I'm gonna call it a day.” Robin pushed himself up and blinked away little black spots in his vision. After promising Dinah to ice his shoulder and to tell Agent A if it caused him any problems, Conner walked Robin back to the Zeta tube with Wally trailing behind in silence.

“Thanks, guys but really I am ok. Nothing I haven’t had before. Seriously, one time when I was little I did a whole obstacle course with a dislocated shoulder. Sure the monkey bars were hell, but seriously this is nothing.”

Conner glared. Wally was still silent.

Sighing, Robin punched in the code for Gotham. “Conner, thanks for helping me, and you know, not throwing me at KF. Really, I will be fine, and you were perfect on form. Maybe in a couple weeks we can go again?”

Conner smiled and nodded.

“Can you give KF and me a minute?”

Conner’s smile faltered but he nodded and left the room. Dick turned to his best friend.

“You ok?” Dick asked softly.

“Am...Am I ok?” Wally looked at him in horror. “Dude, your the one who nearly lost an arm.”

“Yeah, and it’s fine, see?” Dick gestured to his shoulder, which was still feeling numb thanks to the glorious shot that Dinah had given him.

“Well, I am sorry. I should have looked before I ran. It's my fault you got hurt.”

“Dude, don’t sweat it, this is nothing.” Dick hated when Wally was upset because of him.

“Is Batman going to kill me?” The words rushed out of Wally’s mouth so quickly it took a minute for Dick to understand.

Dick’s stomach dropped. “Oh, is that what you're worried about?”

“Well...he gets all protective you know?” It was true. There had been times in the past four years that Batman had scared members of the league with how violent he became whenever Robin was injured.

“I won’t tell him KF, don’t worry.” Dick smiled, and with his left arm clapped Wally on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later.” If Dick knew how badly the promise would come back to bite him, he would have never made it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Rhea

Oh the earth rises to meet me, and I am pulled to it’s bitter kiss

The trip back to the Batcave had been long and painful.  Riding the R-cycle was difficult while trying to keep one arm immobilized.  Dick glanced around as the tires skidded to a stop next to the Batmobile. No sign of Bruce or Alfred.  Dick slumped forward and pressed his face into the handlebars, and allowed himself a moment to give into the pain that was now back in full force.  It was unusual for Alfred not to be waiting for him to return from Mount Justice, so Dick took full advantage of the butler's absence and grabbed a few painkillers as he slipped into the changing room.   After putting his uniform away, rubbing an ice gel on his shoulder, and getting dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, Dick made his way up to the house.  

Dick was very careful to not let Alfred notice his tender shoulder as he entered the kitchen, and gave the butler his usual hug.

“Oh, Master Dick!  I didn’t realize the time.  There is tea on the counter for you.” Alfred absently patted his arm then continued to stir a large pot on the stove. 

“Thanks, Alf.  You're the best.”  Dick poured, his hand shaking slightly.

As it turned out it was much easier hiding his shoulder injury then he had predicted as Bruce had been held up at work.  Batman would check in with Robin on patrol. At least that’s what Alfred informed him. Dick tried not to let the feeling of disappointment show on his face. The soda that Alfred served with dinner told him he hadn’t been successful.  Though Dick realized that if Bruce had been here for dinner, he would have not been able to hide his injury. He had a hard time just spooning the crab soup Alfred had made without grimacing. As it was he was lucky that Alfred was too busy to stay with Dick while he ate.  Some delivery had drawn him away. Dick would have to take some more painkillers before patrol. It was going to be uncomfortable at best.

With Bruce out of the house and Alfred occupied, it was fairly easy to slip out into Gotham after sneaking a few prescription level tablets.  Robin made his way slowly to the edge of Gotham’s Old District that bordered Chinatown. While Dick was fairly confident that his shoulder would hold up fine, he was extra careful as he swung through the city.  Batman would not be happy if he found out that Dick hadn’t told him and Alfred about his shoulder. Not that he hadn’t gone out feeling worse, but Batman didn’t like not knowing all possible factors. 

Once within a block of Fonzie Florist, Dick still couldn’t help but laugh at the name even if Fonzie had been the great grandmother of the last owner, he melted into the shadows and searched for a good perch. Robin found a space between a gargoyle and column to tuck himself out of sight.  Dick turned on his recorder in his mask, pulled out a pack of twizzlers and waited. 

“Robin, report.” Batman’s growl was low over the communicator.

“Hey B.  I’m in position at Fonzie’s.  So far no activity, but I’ve only been here for two hours.”

“Hrnn, keep me updated.” And like that there was a small click cutting of the faint hum that meant the line was open. Dick sighed and leaned back into the column next to him.  Since the team had started out, it seemed as if conversations with Batman were getting shorter and shorter. While Bruce was never a chatty man, he used to ask a lot more questions.  “Do you have everything you need? What is your exact location? Check in every half hour…” Dick would never admit to Wally or Roy who always complained about their mentors being overbearing, but he missed the fact that Batman had made an effort to ask.  It made Bruce feel nearby, even if he was across the city.  

Dick was a people person.  At the circus, you were never alone, not when you worked, slept or ate.  Then after...he had just had Bruce and Alfred. Dick had gotten used to the solitude of the manor. Eventually.  He didn’t mind that Bruce wasn’t a conversationalist. The fact that Bruce would listen to him filling the silence with an occasional question or hum had been enough. Patrol had always been, with the rare exception of solo work, one of the few times Dick could count on Bruce’s presence.  Sure B couldn’t always go to school events, and he had to attend board meetings in other cities, but Batman was constant. Bruce didn’t always say what he was feeling. Dick knew that. He was ok with that. But Batman and him had an understanding because if you weren't clear, and you didn’t communicate, people died.  Batman’s presence, even if it was just the hum of an open line, was his promise to have his back. The cold Robin felt had nothing to do with the breeze coming off the bay. 

The evening progressed slowly. The block was by no means empty, but no one so much as glanced at the flower shop.  As the hours passed with no activity Dick began to grow seriously bored. He considered radioing to tell Batman as such, but he was meant to be an experienced and serious vigilante. And so he figured that using the comms to tell his partner he had run out of twizzlers would not be a respectable use of tech. 

It was then that a slight glint of metal caught his eye.  Suddenly alert, Robin sat up and used his mask’s tech to scan the alley across from him.  Batman had made Robin memorize all of Gotham’s known members of the underground, and the masked man Robin saw was definitely a member of Black Mask’s cult, the False Facers.  But seeing Tattoo slinking around a property owned by Penguin was unusual enough to make Dick doubt himself. Using his grapple, Dick swung across the street to the roof of the flower shop.  Wincing slightly as the weight of his body strained his shoulder, Robin landed softly. Creeping to the edge, he watched the man break into Fonzie’s.    

Robin repelled down the roof and entered through the door  that had been left propped open. Amateur, Dick chuckled under his breath.  The inside of Fonzie’s was as thick as a jungle. Robin peered around a fern and between two sunflowers as the masked man moved his way through the shop, emptying drawers and pulling pictures down from the wall. As he searched, Robin got a better look at the man’s mask.  It was definitely Tattoo, Black Mask’s right hand man. Robin could see the edges of an ink sleeve peeking out from under his black turtleneck. So Penguin had something hidden here after all. But what? And why would Black Mask send Tattoo to look for it? 

It was clear after a short while that Tattoo was not finding what he had been sent to retrieve, and the man was getting very frustrated.  Robin had been hoping for Tattoo to lead him to whatever was so important, but today was simply not his day. There must have been an alarm that Tattoo tripped breaking in, because soon enough police lights were flashing through the window.  Sighing at his luck that the police happened to have a decent reaction time for once, Robin stepped out from behind the fern.  

“Well, this is awkward.  I was just gonna pick up some flowers for Batman.  Do you think he’d like tulips or azaleas?”

Tattoo jumped and spun to face the boy wonder.  He then rudely proceed to throw a vase at Robin’s head.

“Is that a no on the azaleas?”  Dick ducked behind a shelf, and pulled two batarangs from his belt. Dropping to the floor, Dick slid under a table lined with pots and tossed the projectiles.  One clipped Tattoo’s left arm and the other struck a knee. The drop to the floor had jarred Robin’s shoulder causing his aim to be subpar. The glancing blow that should have taken the man down, had merely caused him to stumble as he made a mad dash for the exit. Rolling to his feet, Robin gave chase.  

The cold night air hit Robin’s face as he entered the ally.  Tattoo’s boots gave away his position before Robin’s eyes found him. The fire escape? Really?  But Robin supposed that unless he wanted to confront the police at the mouth of the ally, the roof was Tattoo’s best option.  Aiming his grapple gun, Robin shot himself at the man now a flight and a half up from the ground. Pain lanced through Dick’s shoulder but he ignored it.  Instead he focused on twisting his legs in front of him so that he could kick Tattoo in the chest. Robin let his signature cackle out as he landed the blow. 

Tattoo pulled out a knife and swung his arm wide.  He was sloppy. Robin grinned, now to end this quickly.  Then he could get back to why Black Mask had sent the False Facer to break into Penguin’s property.  Robin ducked and spun in the tight space under Tattoo’s arms each time the man struck at him.  

“Swing batter batter.”  Dick sang under his breath.  Tattoo finally got lucky just as Robin moved to jump over the man.  Robin was already mid air when he realized Tattoo had a second knife.  To avoid being run through--which would have definitely not been aster at all--Robin launched himself over the railing of the fire escape, and grabbed a rung of the ladder beneath to avoid falling to the ground. Unfortunately, he caught himself with his left hand. Yeah his shoulder was going to be a major problem.  But still better than being stabbed. Robin pulled himself up and watched Tattoo’s foot disappear over the edge onto the roof. His head start was small enough that Robin wasn’t really worried, but a small voice that sounded a lot like Alfred in the back of his head was telling him to call Batman. But, if he called Bruce now, he would have to explain why he needed help. So Dick ignored the voice and began climbing.  

Once on the roof, Robin quickly calculated the most likely route Tattoo would have taken. He decided Chinatown would be the most likely place he would go to ground.  Dick ran and lept across a gap between buildings. Running over rooftops in Chinatown was always a bit harder then Old Gotham. The construction of the roofs were made of different materials. Old Gotham, was mostly constructed with brownstone from Little Falls, but Chinatown was all wood and clay tile. Every now and then a tile would come loose or break, so Batman had always reminded Dick to keep his grapple gun handy when they worked the area. But Robin had excellent balance so it had never been a problem. 

Keeping his weight on the balls of his feet Robin searched the roofs for any movement that could indicate where Tattoo had gone. Just when he thought he had made the wrong choice to search Chinatown, Robin saw the metal of Tattoo’s mask flash.  Robin was a ghost as he made his way across to where Tattoo was lurking. Pulling a batarang out, he prepared for ambush. Just as he crept around an ornate finial on the roof, movement caught Robin’s eye just to his right.

Robin didn’t have enough time to curse, as he flipped away from the blade that flew from the tip of Penguin’s umbrella.  Tattoo was sure to get away now. 

 “Penguin, what brings you to Chinatown?  Personally, I’m here for the mu shu pork. Little Beijing makes some that is to die for.”  Robin’s eyes were darting around in search of Tattoo. Yeah he had definitely made a break for it. 

“Where is it?” Oswald clipped.

“Where is what?”  Robin asked innocently, hoping to trick Oswald into telling him what Tattoo had been looking for.  No such luck. Oswald simply narrowed his eyes.

“Get lost, Boy Blunder.”

“No can do, Batman really wants that pork.”  Robin lept at Penguin, and threw his batarang at the umbrella.  Both were knocked over and they rolled together. Penguin snatched his umbrella back and proceeded to smack Robin hard in the hip. The metal tip smacked the bone hard, shooting pain down his leg. Gritting his teeth, Robin sprang forward and landed a jab. Oswald over balanced. Robin’s heart sped up as Penguin began to fall back.  He bounded forward to grab the fat man’s lapel and pull him back from the edge. Oswald, however, was not a very thankful man, and he snatched at Robin’s belt causing the boy wonder to flip away once again. 

It was nights like this where Dick was sure his family was cursed.  The tile under his boot gave way as he landed. Had his hip not already been bruised from Penguin’s umbrella, he probably would have regained his balance. As it was, Dick was thrown into the open air, his fingers seeking the handle of his grapple.  

But it wasn't there. 

Dick’s eyes widened behind his mask, as they landed on what Oswald was gripping in his hand.  The same hand that had grabbed at him just moments ago. Robin tipped back into empty space.

Robin could hear Batman’s commanding voice echo from a distant memory of the first night he had gone out with Bruce.  

“Robin, you need to always have a backup plan.  Equipment malfunctions, people are two slow, and Gotham is unpredictable. When things go wrong you can’t panic. So what is your Plan?”

Plan, Dick didn’t have a plan.

“For if I fall?”

“Yes, what do you do if you fall?”

“I use my grapple gun.”

“Your grapple brakes.”

“I grab something.”

“It crumbles and falls too.”

Dick tilted his head in thought.  “I slow my fall, and try and land so that I will have the least amount of injuries.”

“How do you slow your fall?”

“Wind resistance or friction.”

“How do you land?”

“Feet first, protect your head.” Robin smiled and put his hand on Batman’s arm.  “I got this B. Plus I know you won’t let me fall.”

“Robin… I.  I just want to make sure you’re prepared.”

Ok don’t panic, what is your plan?   Dick clamped down on his fear and turned his attention to finding anything to seize hold of.  A small carving of a dragon stretched out from the corner of the building. Robin turned to it, fingers just brushing its nose as he sailed past.  

Try to slow down. His hands trailed down the wall of the building and clawed at the siding.  His knee smashed into the sill of a window, but it was too small to grip.  

How do you land?  Feet first, and protect your head. 

 Yeah, the Graysons were cursed, all born to fly, yet all made to fall. Robin closed his eyes, and hoped Bruce would forgive him. 

Robin landed hard on the curb.  His legs gave way and breath was forced from his lungs as his back struck the ground.  He was filled with momentary panic as he fought for oxygen. Sputtering, Dick rolled over onto his stomach and just lay with his cheek pressed into the rough concrete.  Once he had brought his breathing back to a relatively stable pace, he took inventory of his body as he lay with his eyes closed. Head, yeah that hurt, broken no, bleeding no, concussion probable.  Neck, not broken he had been able to roll over. Shoulder, oh boy did that one suck. Chest fine, ribs fine, hips...at least one was severely bruised. Knees, one was swollen from hitting the window sill, feet would be very very painful tomorrow, but didn’t feel broken. Thank you Mr. Fox.  He hadn’t been kidding when he said the soles of his boots were made for maximum impact absorption. 

Eyes welling up from the pain of moving, Dick reached up to his communicator and called Batman.  

“B?” Dick coughed, “Batman?” Great, he sounded like he had swallowed sand.  He couldn't remember screaming, but the pain in his throat told him he definitely had. 

“Stand by Robin.” Bruce’s voice was slightly out of breath.

Great he was probably busy.  Of course he was busy. Robin’s eyes flew open. Crap....Penguin.  Dick rolled once more onto his back and looked up at the roof he had fallen from. There was no face glaring down at him. 

Batman’s breath was still heavy in his ear, but Dick paid no attention as he searched the alley for signs that Penguin would follow him down.  Oswald had seemed uninterested in Robin tonight, so he was probably already once again searching for Tattoo. Dick relaxed slightly, which was hard to do with his head spinning. 

“Robin. Go ahead.”  Batman had definitely just finished a fight. His growl was not as low as usual. Not that anyone but Robin would notice. 

“I think, I need to be picked up.” Robin tried to sit up and saw spots.

“What happened?”  

“I…” Dick bit his lip, and made a split second decision. “I am ok, a little bruised, concussion at most. But I lost my grapple, and the Cycle is at the Batcave.”

“Umf,” Well crap that was Batman’s ‘I am disappointed and will be expressing it latter’ sound. “10-20?” 

“I am in Chinatown  by Sovann’s market.”

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah, no problem.”  Robin hoped.

“Meet, in eleven minutes at Sal’s.” 

“Thanks.”  Robin pulled himself to his feet with a groan.  It was never fun walking on street level, but he didn’t dare risk running over rooftops after the hits he had taken today.  If it had been just his shoulder hurting yeah , just his hip or knee bruised sure , just his head spinning... probably .  But with one arm weakened, his feet unsteady and his eyes constantly trying to refocus, Dick would have to be certifiable to try it.  So, he made his way to Sal’s ice cream parlor slowly with both feet firmly planted on the ground.  

He was a block away when he heard three shots ring out behind him.  Robin ducked on instinct, and rolled behind a public trash can and looked for the source of the sound.  When he saw no immediate threat, Robin straightened up from behind the bin. Robin was sore, tired, and in no condition for a fight, so naturally he went in search of the disturbance.  

When Dick would look back on the night, he would recognize the stupidity of his choice.  However, given the concussion he had a least some excuse. He had even helped two girls escape danger. Not that that fact had impressed Batman. 

Dick ran headlong into the side street the shots had come from. There he saw two girls who looked young enough to be just out of highschool, holding each other huddled on the ground.  Three men were shouting and pushing each other uncomfortably close to the girls. Robin knew at least one was armed, as it had been the sound of gunfire that brought the group to his attention.  He couldn’t see who was in possession of the said gun. No one appeared to be bleeding, so perhaps the shots had been fired to intimidate the others. Robin decided it was best to get their attention off each other, and announced his presence. 

“I don’t know about you, but it's a bit late to be out.  I know I am feeling ready for a good night's sleep in the cave.  So how about we all just head home?”  

His plan worked masterfully, except now he had three angry men focused on him and not each other.  One of the girls at least had the presence of mind to slip away, dragging her friend with her. Robin quickly found himself in a tight spot, fighting three men who on any other night would have been a walk in the park. The inflammation in his left shoulder hindered his ability to block to any effect.  His muscles in his left arm shook as he tried to keep it held in a defensive position. All attempts at a jab or strike with his left hand held no power either, making his ability to effectively take down the men very limited. Not only that but now each kick sent sharp pain through his knee and hip. So he took an unacceptable number of blows.  Dick took comfort in the fact that he at least gave it back as good as he got it.  

It was here that Batman found Robin, surrounded and very much underperforming.  It took Bruce all of two minutes to knock out all three D-list thugs. Once they were ziptied, Batman turned to Robin, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Robin didn’t even notice when the Batmobile pulled up.  He was once again focusing on blinking away black spots. Yeah today sucked.

“Robin?”

“Mmm?”  Dick collapsed into the passenger side of the Batmobile, and leaned his head back against the seat. 

“I thought you were doing a stake out.” Batman’s voice was tight, controlled and even. Yep, he was pissed.

Dick frowned. “I was, Tattoo broke in to Fonzie's, but the police showed up before he could lead me to whatever he was looking for.”

“Mmm, the police have him?”

“Umm no, he escaped,”  Robin’s heart sped up, don’t ask why, don’t ask why.

“When you lost your grapple gun.” It hadn’t been a question. But Dick felt a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with his injuries. 

Robin nodded, “Yeah. He got away clean,” Dick knew he should probably mention falling off the roof, but then Alfred would want to check him over and he would definitely see the shoulder.

“I was on my way to meet up when I heard shots.  I couldn’t wait for you. There were two girls near the idiots fighting.” 

“You didn’t answer when I radioed you.”

“What?” Dick’s hand flew to his ear.  “Must have fallen out when I was fighting.”

“Hrnn, be more careful next time.”  Bruce’s hands tightened over the wheel.

“Sorry.” Dick wasn’t sure if he meant for lying or for making Bruce worry.

“So no new intel, other than confirming Cobblepot is up to something?”

“Umm no…not really, but you were definitely right, there is something fishy going on. Oh and whatever Penguin bought the shop for is definitely smaller than a breadbox.  Tattoo was dumping out drawers and looking for a safe in the wall.” Dick’s attempt at a joke fell flat. 

The rest of the drive the duo sat in silence.  Which for once Dick was fine with. He had a killer headache. 

The next morning Dick stumbled down to the kitchen, his body protesting every step.   He found Bruce and Alfred huddled around the morning paper.  

“What’s going on?”

Bruce pushed the paper away from him towards his ward as if it had personally offended him.  Dick felt a rock drop into his gut. 

Man Found Dead in Gotham Bay:

An unidentified man was found floating in Gotham Bay, by two dock workers early this morning.  The man was described by witnesses as African-American with several tattoos along his arms, including a symbol of the False Facers gang.  Police have not released a statement about whether this man is a suspected member, however the man was found wearing a mask. Police have not yet ruled the death as an accident or possible homicide. 

Dick looked up from the paper.  Bruce was watching him with a pinched expression. 

“You want to add anything about last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what happened, you said he got away.  He obviously didn’t get away clean” Bruce was purposely keeping his voice level.  

“Well, I got held up by Penguin so yeah he got away.”

“Penguin?” Bruce narrowed his eyes. “You saw Penguin last night?”

Dick felt the blood run out of his face. “Yeah, I mean.... Didn’t I say?”

“Where did Penguin go?”  

“I… I don’t know. I...He got away.” Then it hit him.  He hadn’t stopped either of them. He hadn’t told Bruce that Penguin was after Tattoo.  And now Tattoo was dead and it was Robin’s fault. No hurt shoulder, no bruised hip, no banged up knee, no concussion, and certainly no promise excused his failure to tell his partner all the facts.  Now a man was dead, because he was too proud to call for backup; because he was too tired, too sore, and foolish he hadn’t informed Batman that Cobblepot was there and was out for blood.  

It would have been better if Bruce had yelled.  Instead he simply left the kitchen. The newspaper still lay on the counter evidence printed in black and white, proclaiming his incompetence. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Koios

Placed before me,

You say “Let it lay”

 but now you’ve left and I sit here questioning.

The day passed in a haze.  Dick wasn’t sure if it was the pain that seemed to be everywhere on his body, or the constant ache in gut made it hard to concentrate on his classes.  Babs had gone from slightly bemused to concerned as the day progressed. By the time lunch rolled around, she had asked Dick at least five times if he was alright. Watching her best friend push food around his plate, was the final straw.

“Ok what is wrong? You're acting like somebody died.”

Dick dropped his fork.  

“Wait, Oh My G… Someone died?” Barbara way to put your foot in it .  She sat wracking her brains trying to remember if Dick had family he had ever mentioned left besides Bruce and Alfred.  She was sure that only his Uncle Richard had survived the fall, but he had died two years ago.  

“No... don’t be ridiculous.  I … I … Bruce is mad at me, I messed up something important, and it just sucks.” 

“Yikes, did he yell or just do the I am disappointed Dad stare?”

“Neither. He just left, for work.” Dick bit his lip, hesitating.  “I really, really messed up Babs.  I don’t know… I can’t fix this one.”

“Sure you can, this is Bruce.  He’ll forgive you. Just say sorry.  He’s your dad. He has to forgive you.”

“He’s not though.  My dad, I mean.” Dick looked as if he had swallowed a lemon.

Barbara sighed. “Just because you don’t have a piece of paper saying it, or the same DNA doesn’t mean he isn’t your dad.  I mean, the man freaks out when you get sick, like that one time Alfred was out of town and you caught the flu. He wouldn’t let you come to school for like a month.”

  Dick frowned. He hadn’t had the flu, he had been on life support after that terrifying  encounter with Two Face. 

“He helps you with your science fair projects, like that super cool working model of a space rocket.”  

It had been Lucius Fox who had helped him. 

“He is always taking you on trips..” 

Covers for missions. 

“He is your dad, legal or not.”

Dick forced himself to smile, and proceeded to stab his salad. “I guess.”

Barbara gave up the topic, and changed tactics.  “So I was thinking tonight we could watch The Greatest Showman.  It's about a circus so you should love it. And Hugh Jackman is in it so it can’t be bad.”  

Dick glanced up. “Sounds right up my alley. Your dad is going to be out, right?”

“Yeah… why?”

“Just wanted to know if I needed to worry about him freaking out when I show you how to actually do the stunts that are in the movie.”  His smile lit up his who face. “You should have seen Alfred’s reaction to finding me juggling knives the first time.”

“You mean he’s caught you more than once?”

“Well yeah, but if you don’t use it, you lose it.”

“Maybe we can start with tennis balls.”

By the time they arrived at the Gordon’s apartment, Mr. Gordon was running late for work.  Jim was dashing around looking for his badge, holding a cell phone to his ear with his shoulder.  

“Yes, I am well aware that that makes three bodies...No, I haven’t spoken to him about the possibility.  Yes, I know it looks like the start of a gang war, but the Falcones are denying any involvement in Tattoo’s death,  Oh hi Barbara, Dick.” Jim’s eyebrows shot up when he realized he had an audience. “I will be there in,” he glanced at his watch, “20 minutes.”

“Hey Dad, that sounds bad.”

“Oh no sweetheart, we just found another of Falcone's guys dead, but I am sure we'll have this sorted in no time.” His mustache twitched.  

Dick had been working with Gordon for years, and had learned to know when the man was lying.  This was him lying.  

“There is money for pizza on the counter. I should be home around six, so I will see you before school.  Ok?”

“Yeah, thanks Dad.  Stay safe.” Jim pecked Barbara’s forehead as he passed them.

“So,” Barbara clapped her hands together. “What do you want on the pizza?”

“Er, whatever as long as there are no mushrooms.” Dick eyes remained focused on the front door long after Jim had left. 

“Hello, Earth do Dick. Do you want cheddar on the popcorn or just butter and salt?

“Huh?”  Dick turned back to Barbara holding a bowl of popcorn.  Dick scrunched up his nose at the idea of ruining popcorn. “Umm no cheddar.”  

Dick tried to focus on the film, but the case continued to push its way to the front of his mind.  Three bodies. That meant that there were two more than what he and Batman knew about. Jim had said another one of Falcone's men.  So that indicated that two of the bodies were Falcone's but what did they have to do with Tattoo? Hadn’t Penguin been after Tattoo?  Were the Falcones after whatever Penguin had bought the flower shop for, as well as Black Mask? Dick was itching to call Bruce and let him know what he had overheard.  But no, Bruce was mad at Dick. And he was in a business meeting right now with some of Lexcorp’s executive team. So Dick really couldn’t interrupt that. Dick didn’t notice when the film finished.

“Hey, are you ok?”

“Huh?  Oh sorry, Babs.  Yeah, I'm just tired.”

“Yeah? That's it?  I mean, you are kinda all over the place today.  Is the thing with Bruce still bothering you?”

“What? No.  Of course not.  No, I just....” Dick sighed.  “I fell off the uneven bars yesterday. I'm still a bit sore from that.  But it’s fine. I'm good.” Dick wasn’t sure if it should be so easy to lie to Barbara.  It certainly left a bad taste in his mouth. “I think I should call it a night, Babs. The movie was great.” He would have to watch it again, he couldn’t remember the plot. In fact, he found it a relief when it ended and he could excuse himself for the night. 

Normally Dick would call Alfred to pick him up from Babs’ house to keep up appearances, but this case had gotten under his skin.  Robin could only go out a couple of school nights and he needed to save it for a full evening were he could really focus on getting to the bottom of this case.  

But if Dick poked around, he technically wasn’t breaking the rules.  So Dick pocketed his cell phone. Robin had a long list of rules that Bruce and him had come up with and rule number three, always have your utility belt on you, really came in handy when you couldn’t make a detour back to the Batcave to get it.  Dick pulled out his comms unit and switched it to the police frequency. Now. Where was this body?

After several dull minutes of listening, there was finally just enough chatter for Dick to make an educated guess that the body had been found on the Upper East Side near the Bowery Bridge.  Dick would have to cross half of Gotham at night as Dick Grayson to get there. While there was technically no rule that Bruce or Alfred had given him about that, it definitely wasn't the smartest plan,but Robin was certainly not an option.  Nevermind breaking the rules, Dick was still sore enough from the beating he had taken yesterday, he really wasn’t in the mood to swing through the city.  

Mind made up, he would ghost his way through town on street level. Dick zipped up his hoodie and kept to the shadows.  

By the time he reached the lower Bowery Bridge and found the crime scene, the clean up crew were already working.  Several detectives stood just beneath the bridge speaking to some uniformed officers.  

Using his grappling hook, Dick began silently climbing the bridge’s rusted bearings.  The climb made the muscles in his left shoulder shake. He only slipped twice, but he smacked his still stiff knee on the blunt edge of a support beam. Once he was up, he crawled until he was just over the officers.  

“I just don’t get it, man,” one of the uniformed officers said. "There has been no chatter on this."Dick recognized him. Officer Brice was one of the few uniformed officers who Batman really liked.  The man was clean as they came and hard working to boot. 

“Nothing in vice or organized crime?” Brice’s new rookie asked. She looked a bit green.  It could have been the light, or this had been a particularly gruesome crime scene. Perhaps even her first.  Dick couldn’t remember seeing her at a homicide before. 

“No,” Detective Harvey said, “yet all of a sudden the gangs are just up and offing each other.  I mean, the False Facers I get. They want revenge. But why would anyone risk offing Tattoo? There was nothing big going down.  There has been word that the Falcones are moving more drugs, but they never cross into the Facers' territory.” Harvey tried to look unfazed as he took a drag of his cigarette.  But Dick could hear in his voice the man was unnerved. The scene must have been particularly grisly to have shaken Harvey. 

Dick pressed his face to the metal beam, three deaths were on him, and he still had no leads as to why. He was particularly bothered that the police had picked up no rumors. Harvey always had decent CIs, so if he was saying the Falcones were uninterested in moving in on the Facers then why would they kill Tattoo?  Dick was leaning towards a frame job by Penguin more and more. It just made sense. He was after Tattoo when Dick had fought him and--no, Penguin had definitely killed Tattoo. Now to prove it. 

“Did the Commish say if the Bat had any intel?” Dick refocused on the officers beneath him.

“No, man. He's keeping it all hush, hush.  Which either means it's really bad, or the Bat doesn’t know what's going on, right?” Brice fidgeted with his badge.

“Don’t be an idiot.  The Bat always knows what’s going on.  That thing isn't even human.” Harvey was never much of a fan of Batman.

“What about Robin?  Did he say anything?  That kid is always willing to talk to us about cases.”  

“Nah, he wasn’t with the Bat tonight.  The Bat was colder than normal to Gordon too.  I hope the kid's ok. He is so much creepier when the kid's not around.” Harvey had a soft spot for Robin, though he would never admit to it. 

“I don’t know... the kid freaks me out.  Have you heard that laugh?" The rookie shivered. "It makes me feel like someone’s walking on my grave.” 

Dick bit his lip as he listened.  So Bruce was still upset; upset enough to be rude to Jim.  Dick sighed and began to make his way back down from the bearings.  He was almost back to the ground when he heard it. Just a slight rustling of fabric.  Dick’s stomach flipped. 

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Batman was perfectly blended in the shadows of the bridge.  Only the white lenses on his cowl were visible. 

“B...I. Well I heard Jim when I was at Babs' and I…” Dick trailed off seeing that Batman’s lips were pressed so thinly that they had almost completely disappeared. 

“Car. Now.”

Dick felt ill as he and Batman made their way to the Batmobile.  Waves of fury rolled off Batman. When the doors clicked shut it felt scarier than any gun going off.  There had only been two times in Dick’s time at the manor that he had seen Batman this mad, and one of those times, he had fired Robin.  Dick shivered at the memory of that night. Three years later and Dick was still messing up. Even when he tried to fix his mistakes, he just seemed to make it worse. He just let Batman down more.  These three deaths were one hundred percent on him, and if Bruce had fired him because of the judge... No. Don’t go there.  Dick’s breath picked up.  Batman didn’t even look at him, when he got into the car. Dick waited for yelling or a lecture but Bruce said nothing, simply put the Batmobile’s gear in drive.  The tension on the ride back to the Batcave made Dick itch to crack a joke. But there was no way that would help, so he bit back every comment that tried to bubble to the surface.

The car came to a rough stop when Batman threw it into park before the vehicle had stopped rolling.  Batman jumped from the car. Dick reluctantly followed.  

“What were you thinking?”  Batman’s shout echoed throughout the cave. “No, I’ll tell you what.  You weren’t thinking at all. You could have been seen, Dick! Then where would you be? Huh?  You want to be kidnapped? You want to be killed because you made a stupid choice to go out and walk across half of Gotham at night?”  

This hadn’t been the lecture he was expecting. “I--” Dick started. 

“No, I’m not done talking.”  Batman cut him off with a wave of his hand. “You know better.  I taught you better than this. Dick Grayson, can’t fight back the way Robin can.  You could have been killed tonight. I don’t care what you thought you could do. I really don’t.  You… I don’t know what is going on with you right now, but I am disappointed. First the lying, now this? What am I supposed to do, Dick? Tell me because I frankly do not understand you.” 

“I couldn’t…I...I was following a lead and I couldn’t get my uniform in time.” I wanted to fix this, wanted to fix us, Dick thought but couldn’t bring himself to say.  He had let Batman down and so he needed to fix this by himself.  

“You can’t go out as yourself at night.  You understand that right?” Bruce reached for Dick’s shoulder, but Dick stepped back away from him.  Batman’s hand fell to his side once more.

“It won’t happen again.” Dick refused to meet Batman’s gaze, still confused by the conversation. 

“No. It won’t.  Room, now.” Batman watched as Dick made his way up the stone steps into the manor.  When he heard the tell tale click of the clock swinging back into place, Bruce pushed the cowl back and sat heavily on a stool.  

Bruce’s hands were shaking.  The initial shock he had felt when he saw his ward out of uniform deep in gang territory in the middle of the night had quickly turned to deep fear.  The Gordons lived in a decent enough spot for Gotham, but the Bowery Bridge was a haven for crime. While Bruce knew, logically, Dick was in dangerous situations and places all the time, there was something about seeing the boy without his mask, without backup, roaming around that made him panic. He is safe. He is upstairs, get a hold of yourself.  

Bruce couldn’t understand what was happening.  He could clearly point to the moment in time their partnership began to crack.  Lord knows and probably Superman, Bruce’s heart had stopped that day Dick, Wally and Kaldur’ahm had disappeared and when Conner had told them to get on board or... well ever since, Bruce couldn’t shake the fear that Dick was out growing him. But the formation of the team could not be the only cause.  Had he not given the boy enough room to work independently? After Roy had left Oliver to strike out on his own, Bruce had spent hours interrogating Oliver to determine where the breakdown occurred. Not enough trust, not enough space, too much instruction and management were clearly the main factors of their partnership failing.  Bruce had adjusted. He wouldn’t push Dick out the way Roy had been. But it obviously wasn’t enough. It was infuriating. He worked hard not to yelled when he found out that Dick had lied to him last night. He had walked away, cooled off, and kept a level head. But no. Dick had kept pushing.  

Bruce sat with his head in his hands until the early hours of the next morning.

Chapter Text

Five: Epimetheus

Call me fool - he who bears the sky. But do you have the strength?

Dick didn’t think it was possible but he woke in more pain than the day before.  Looking in the mirror it was easy to see why. His shoulder which he hadn’t iced or let rest was swollen and inflamed.  His hip was a deep purple color and the skin was broken over the ilium. His knee was swollen and stiff, and his legs were protesting every time he moved.  Then there was his headache. He would have to sneak some more painkillers from the med bay, there was no way he would be able to hide his injuries without it. Sighing, Dick slowly made his way down to the kitchen.  Alfred was of course shuffling about, placing fruit and porridge down in front of his charge. Bruce was noticeably absent from his bar stool. 

“Good morning. Not sleep well, Master Dick?”

“Huh?”  Dick gracefully dropped his spoonful of porridge on the counter.

“You are not as quick as usual, sir.” Alfred raised an eyebrow and wiped up the spill.  

“Oh, well no.  I have a pretty bad headache. Is it ok if I take some aspirin with me to school?” Dick realized grabbing painkillers would be easier if Alfred had a valid reason for him to go to the cave. He could blame taking the wrong ones on not paying attention later if anyone noticed their absence.

“Of course, just give me a moment and...”

“Nah, I’ll get it, Alf.”  Dick hopped down from the stool and bit his cheek, stifling a groan as sharp pain shot up his legs.  He made his way to the grandfather clock that hid the entrance to the Batcave. 

Cool air hit him as the clock swung forth to admit him.  Dick made his way quickly over to the medical bay, and pulled open the cupboard stocked with enough meds to supply a small army.  His hand brushed the aspirin bottle as he reached for the co-codamol. Dick sighed, he hated lying to Alfred. He bit his lip as he unscrewed the cap and poured several into a small plastic bag. Dick quickly reread the back of the bottle, just to be safe. He could see his mother’s disapproving face now.

“Richard John Grayson! What on earth do you think you are doing?” Mary Grayson stood towering over her five year old son as he held a bag of stolen crackerjacks. 

“Ummm, Dad got them for me.” John had most certainly done no such thing.

“You march right over to Pop and tell him you are sorry for stealing from him.  Right now, young man.” Mary had been fuming all day over the event. The lecture seemed to never end. “Richard, I am so disappointed in you.  You never take what isn’t yours. But what hurts me worst of all, is you took from someone you love. You took from your family, and you lied to me about it.”

Dick shook his head trying to expel the memory. If only you could see me now Mom, a disappointment to you and Bruce. Dick slowly made his way back up the stairs.  He could hear Alfred washing the dishes, humming softly.  Alfred, kind, wonderful Alfred, had poured him a glass of water to take the so called aspirin with.  He had also gotten him a light jacket for the day. Dick bit back his guilt and quickly downed the glass, as he took two of the stolen tablets. Finishing breakfast had never seemed so appealing.

“Alf, is it ok if I walk this morning?” 

“Of course, will I be picking you up?”  If the butler thought the request was odd, he didn’t let it show.

“Yeah, I think I need to run by the cave after school though.  Is that ok?”

“I have heard nothing that would forbid it.” So Alfred knew that Bruce was less than pleased with him.  

“Was he mad this morning?”

“Master Bruce? No, just tired.  Much like yourself.” There was something in Alfred’s eyes that Dick couldn’t identify.  

Dick was half way to Gotham Academy when he hailed a taxi and rode to Fonzie Florist.  Dick was determined to get to the bottom of this. The hope that Bruce would forgive him if he solved the case had nothing to do with it. No, not at all. Dick had an hour before his first class, which was plenty of time to poke around.  Normally he met up with Babs in the library, but after a quick text that he was running late, he was free to investigate.  

Fonzie's in the day time was a lot nicer.  The shop was well kept if not over crowded from a plethora of plants. Behind the counter was a middle-aged women who  Dick wouldn’t have looked twice at had he not known better. However, he knew that this was Roxy Rocket. One of Penguin’s contracted specialists that he only employed when he had something serious going down. There had been a number of times when she had given Batman a challenge.  If she was here, then she must be guarding something.  

Dick wandered his way around the shop pretending to inspect different flowers.

“Can I help you young man?” Roxy’s voice seemed overly loud, in the tight space of the shop.

“Ummm, I am looking for some flowers for my mom and dad,” Dick lied smoothly.  As Dick Grayson there was always a chance that he would be recognized, so it was easier to have some truth in a lie.  Flowers for his parents grave gave him the perfect cover to be at the shop.

“Oh, what do they like?”  So she didn’t recognize him.

“Um, I think my mom would like Saffron Crocuses.”  Dick named a flower that was not out on the floor, mostly because they were an ungodly price.  

“Oh… I don’t know that we have any.”  She frowned.

“Well, I kinda had my heart set on them.” Dick hoped they didn’t carry the flower, or he would have to explain to Bruce the purchase of a thousand dollar flower. “Do you have any in back?”  Dick widened his eyes and did his best to look endearing. 

“You know, I’ll check.  Saffron?”

“Crocus.”  Dick waited until the door clicked shut and dashed to the computer.  He shoved a flash drive into the USB port. The computer had decent security, but it was no match for the code he had designed.  He quickly broke through their firewall and begin to download everything. He would sift through it later. He was just pulling out the drive when he heard Roxy coming.  Pocketing the drive, he turned to look at some yellow roses in a case beside the computer desk.

“Well it looks like we are out of stock.  But I can order them if you like?”

“Oh no that is ok.  I’ll just buy some lilies.”

In the taxi to school, Dick typed a text to Bruce six times about the flash-drive he had managed to obtain, and six times Dick deleted it.  Why was it this hard to tell him he had a possible lead? Four months ago Dick would have been crowing to Bruce, but now he felt nervous. Dick dropped his phone back into his bag.  He would stick to his plan, check the drive out at the cave, solve the case and then bring in Bruce. Yeah if he could fix this then it would go back to normal between them. But on the other hand it was probably important to tell Bruce about  the new development, Roxy Rocket was in town. Sighing he fished his phone back out.  

Hey B.   Dick paused would he be mad that he had gone out without permission?

Dick deleted the message.  No he needed to tell Batman.  Just get it over with.  

Hey.  Went to Fonzies to pick up some flowers.  They have a new employee. She was telling me about a new Space exhibit on moon Rocks that is going to be in town.  I got the info for it. I will have to check the calendar to see if works. Dick hit send and waited...

Maybe he had been to cryptic.  But Bruce had always figured out what he meant. 

An ellipsis appeared, showing Bruce typing.  Then it was gone. Dick waited. It appeared again, then once again disappeared. Dick bit his lip.  Then… a question mark. Dick frowned and typed, I was just getting Flowers at that place we were talking about, and--   Dick deleted it.  And begin again.  Never mind. He threw his phone back in his bag as the taxi pulled up to Gotham Academy.  

Dick paid the driver and headed into the building.  Maybe this is what Roy and Wally had meant. They had always told him a day would come when he and Bruce would grow apart or even not want to work together.  Was that this? Was Bruce tired of working with him? Over the past four months he could count on one hand the number of patrol and missions that he had done with Bruce.  Now Robin only seemed to get, solo patrols, solo missions. Wasn’t that supposed to be more fun? Yeah he had done solo stuff before, but he could always count on Batman to understand him. This was not even a new code. They called Roxy Rocket, space rocks when they were needing to talk over a civilian line before.  And checking the calendar always meant, intel to analyze later. 

Or worse yet, maybe Bruce had understood the code, but did think the information was enough.  Maybe the question mark meant what else. Well, Dick would have more after he went through the drive.  Yeah, then Bruce would want to talk to him about that. Dick gathered his books from his locker and checked his watch.  Seven hours. In just seven hours he would be able to look into the drive and give Bruce a full report. 

Bruce was in a meeting with the head of international development and medical advancement, when his phone went off.  There were only a handful of people with the number so he rarely put it on silent, even in meetings. Dick. Bruce looked at the time.  He should be at the library with Barbara now.

Hey.  Went to Fonzies to pick up some flowers.  They have a new employee. She was telling me about a new Space exhibit on moon Rocks that is going to be in town.  I got the info for it. I will have to check the calendar to see if works.

Bruce froze.  What on Earth was he doing? Bruce began typing, completely ignoring the two men across from him.  You What? I thought I was very clear last night!  Bruce stopped thumb over the send.  If he yelled now, if he was angry, would Dick tell him in future? Would that push him to want to work alone more. Bruce deleted the text. Put his phone down on the table and turned back to the meeting.  However his mind was far from focused on programmatic theory of change developments. He picked the phone back up. I wish you would have told me you were going before you went.  Do you mean the space rocks exhibit that was in town last year? I can check my calendar as well. No that was too overbearing.  When had it become so difficult to talk to his son? Ward. Bruce corrected himself.  He had promised not to replace his parents. Bruce sighed and sent a single question mark.  

They could talk later tonight. They could work on this together. Bruce would keep from getting mad.  Dick had been clear when he first brought him to the manor. He didn’t want a father, Dick had had a great father.  Bruce was just a placeholder. At least that is what he told himself. Bruce had long given up trying to feel like a mentor, or a guardian.  No, it had taken no time at all to view Dick as a son. But maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe Dick had realized and now didn’t want to work with him. Bruce paled at the thought.  Was that it? Had he finally over stepped? Bruce looked at his watch. Just over seven hours until school would be out. Bruce would be home. They would finally be able to talk.

When Alfred pulled up to Gotham Academy his youngest charge was standing outside.  The boy was bouncing just slightly. Alfred tutted when he took in the boy's lack of rain jacket, it was misting.  He would surely catch a cold. Dick slid into the car, shook his hair out slightly, and began to slip into the change of clothes Alfred had placed in the back for his trip to the Cave. 

  Alfred watched his charge in the rear view mirror.  The young man was uncharacteristically silent. He sat gazing out the window absently turning over a flash drive in his hands. Dick had said nothing but a polite hello, when he first opened the door.  Silent was never a word that Alfred liked to associate with the boy. On the drive Alfred cleared his throat three separate times, intent to break the quiet of the car, but the words died on his tongue each time when Dick didn’t so much as look his way.   Perhaps it was time he spoke with Bruce. There was obviously something that had come between the two. Likely, Bruce’s inability to talk about feelings. Bruce had confided his fear that Dick would leave the way Roy had left Oliver to Alfred just a few months ago. But Dick was a mystery to Alfred.  The boy had said nothing to the butler about what was bothering him, which was unusual. Dick Grayson had always been very much an open book, if you spoke the right language, and Alfred liked to think he was fluent in bat at this point in his tenure serving the family. 

Alfred wished he knew what to say to get the boy to talk to him.  Instead he simply watched as Dick slipped out of the back seat once more with a short thanks, and disappeared into the Zeta beam.  

The flash drive had felt hot in his pocket, all day. He was just itching to look through it. By the time Alfred pulled up to get him, Dick had been practically bouncing with anticipation.  This could be it. All the answers to this case could be on the drive. The final step Dick needed to take down Penguin, to make up for his mistakes. After the beam deposited him at the Cave, Dick quickly made his way to the mountain’s main computer room. He passed by M’gann without so much as a hello.  Dick booted up the monitors and began sorting through all that he had collected.  

After two hours of double and triple checking every bit of data gathered, Dick had concluded he had nothing. There was no evidence, no leads, nothing .  Frustrated, Dick threw the USB into the trash on his way out of the room.

Dick began to make his way back to the living area of the Cave but stopped when he heard his name mentioned.  Glancing around, he saw the door to the library ajar.  

“It's not like that with Batman and Robin.  Look at Robin. Batman just lets him get to work,  but he still looks out for him. I mean, is it always this hard?  Do Flash and Green Arrow ever... you know... ignore you?” Conner’s voice was low. Dick peered around the door. He probably shouldn’t be listening. 

“Well, not so much ignoring us...” Wally trailed off looking at Artemis for help.

“Well, everyone has different problems.  We can’t all be the perfect dynamic duo.” Artemis sounded bitter. “Green Arrow, constantly brings up Roy.  I know he would rather have him than me.”

“But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.” Wally had his hand on Artemis’ shoulder. 

“I know that, I am just saying he would rather I was Roy.  What about you? I never even see Flash. What is working with him like?”

“Well it's great most of the time. I mean, he is the only one who really gets the speed thing.”

Conner huffed.

Wally turned red, realizing he had hit the nail on the head.  Superman was the only one who would understand what being Kryptonian was really like. “It's not perfect though.  There are times were he doesn’t tell me everything. Like Watchtower, and League missions, he doesn’t tell me about those.”

Dick began to push the door open just a bit more.  Maybe they would know what to do about him and Bruce.

“Robin is so lucky.  Batman is the best. Have you noticed, he's never overbearing?  I mean last week at the briefing he took Robin’s theory and just ran with it. He didn’t even question Robin’s judgement.” Artemis sank further into the couch.  

Dick froze.

“Yeah, and he's always helping Robin train.  They're always working together too.” Conner looked at Wally pensively, “Do you think Robin knew about Watchtower?”

“I...I don’t know. He seemed upset about it at the time.” Wally’s frown deepened.  

“I bet he did. Those two don’t even have to talk half the time.” 

“They’re the Dynamic Duo.  The perfect partnership.” Artemis was nodding along with Conner, her voice dripping with venom. 

Dick felt like he had been punched in the stomach.  Dynamic Duo, what a joke. Boy were they in for a surprise.  What would the team think if he walked in right now and told them what a failure he was? He and Batman were far from perfect. They hadn’t felt like the Dynamic Duo in a long time. 

“...but you have to remember.  He’s been doing it longer. He’s been working with Batman since he was nine.  They had more time to work out the kinks. You know?”

“You’ve been with Flash for over two years," Conner scoffed.  "Do you think you’ll ever stop being treated like a kid? It’s in your name, Wally.” 

“Yeah, face it.We're always going to be the Junior Justice League.” Artemis, pushed Wally’s hand away. 

Dick pulled away from the door, his heart racing.   Was that really what the team thought? That he and Batman were without their problems?  Maybe a year ago that was true, but lately he hadn’t been pulling his weight in their partnership.  He needed to pull it together. But he didn’t know where it had gone wrong. Where had it started to go wrong?  Maybe if he cracked this case, they could get back on track. He would be worthy of being Batman’s partner. Dick made his way back towards the Zeta tubes with a renewed determination. Solve the case, fix us . Unfortunately, Dick turned the corner and walked straight into Black Canary.  

The fall shouldn’t have shocked him.  Had he not already been on edge he would have used the momentum to do a flip or roll.  But walking head long into someone he should have heard coming a long way off just felt like further proof.  He was losing his touch. How many times had Batman drilled into him, you need to be aware of your surroundings when in uniform, or in the presence of other heroes. Being human meant you had to be at a hundred percent, all the time. The impact of hitting the linoleum was unpleasant with an uninjured body, but in his current condition the collision was enough to bring tears to his eyes. His lower back felt numb, while his joints sent violent shouts of protest.

“Robin.” Dinah jumped back. “Are you alright?”

Dick sat seemingly stunned.  But what really had Dinah worried was he did not immediately jump to his feet.  She bent down and plucked Dick’s sunglasses off the ground and handed them back to the boy.  

“Thanks, BC.  Sorry I wasn’t really paying attention.” Robin readjusted the sunglasses, but remained seated. His hands were shaking.

“That’s ok.  How are you feeling?  Your shoulder still bothering you after the other day?” 

“It’s not too bad.” He still made no move to stand.

“Robin, how about we go take a look at it?” 

This got him moving.  “Oh, no its fine. Agent A has been putting an ice rub on it.”

Dinah took a step back as he pulled himself to his feet.  Well if it wasn’t his shoulder bothering him, what was it? “Everything else ok?”

“Huh? Yeah BC, everything is great. I was just thinking about a case in Gotham, it's been particularly challenging.”

“Ahh,  gotcha.  You and Batman have it though.”  She smiled. “I swear the two of you are so in sync it's crazy.  I know you'll solve whatever it is soon. You always do.”

Robin’s smile faltered just slightly. “Thanks. I should probably head home.  Agent A is making dinner.”

Dick walked as quickly as he could, without running, to the Zeta.  He was thankful for the sunglasses as he blinked back tears. He wasn’t sure if they were from the pain of falling, or the sinking weight he felt pushing down on his injured shoulder.  He was such a fraud. The team thought he and Batman were something to envy. That they were a united team. And Dinah thought he could solve this case. But what if he couldn’t? Maybe he had just been tricking everyone.  

If Artemis thought they were just the Junior Justice League, then what was he? Wasn’t he expected to lead the team one day? To join the League? If he couldn’t handle one case in Gotham, then what hope did he have of helping the League? Robin had more experience then half the Justice League, yet he was still not good enough. 

One day Wally would take over for Flash. Conner was the only other Kryptonian, so Superman would have to one day accept him.  But he would never be Batman. Maybe that was just his burden to bear, to always watch everyone leave him behind.

Chapter Text

Six: Lapetus 

“Don’t break alone

Alone is the hardest place 

To get back from”

-Atlas, Them fierce. At Last. by Rizna M Rameez

When Dick entered the Batcave, Bruce was already in the cowl, sitting at the Batcomputer.  Photos of last night’s crime scene were displayed on the monitor. Dick’s stomach churned. Even after four years in the field, he still had a difficult time looking at homicides.  Dick blinked away the memory of the unnatural angles that his mother’s arms had made when she hit the ground. He cleared his throat to let Bruce know he was there and Batman swiveled to face him. 

“Dick, I didn’t hear you come in.” Bruce’s lips were pinched, just slightly, but enough to tell Dick that he was chewing the inside of his lip.  

“Yeah, umm… anything new?” Dick gestured to the monitor. 

“No.  The scene was clean of any evidence.  They still haven’t gotten the autopsy done either; the cause of death was unclear.”  

Dick looked at the pictures that were playing like a slideshow.  It’s no wonder the cause of death was unclear. The body was practically unidentifiable. It was burnt horribly, but the way the man’s legs were bent... Dick’s heart sped up.  Dick could smell sawdust and blood. He took a breath. It’s just a picture. Get it together Grayson. That is not Dad. It is some random gangster. That is not Dad   Dick fixed his eyes on a stalactite hanging beyond the Batcomputer. “Do we have a positive ID?”

“Yes. It is one of Falcone’s lower ranking members.  Rusty. He moved money, but wasn’t a particularly active member of the family.”  Bruce’s look turned sour as he looked at a file spread across the desk.

“Oh, I liked Rusty.”

Bruce’s head shot up. “You knew him?”

“Yeah. Well not well or anything. But he gave me intel a few times. Was always good too.”

Bruce hit a key and the screen went black. “I’m sorry. You shouldn't have to see that.”

Dick shrugged and shuffled his feet still not looking at his guardian.  “You sure there was nothing else to gain from those?”

“No, I’ve been going through the photos for an hour, and I was thorough last night.” Bruce’s attention was focused on his ward, regarding him thoughtfully. “Did you find anything useful at Fonzie’s this morning?”

Dick didn’t think that had been Bruce’s original question. “No, other than seeing Roxy Rocket there.  I hacked the computer, but there was nothing on it.”

“Well that’s still--”

The Batcomputer gave a loud alert, cutting Bruce off. He turned back to the monitor. An incoming call from Watchtower. Dick, without his uniform, stepped over to stand next to the computer tower.  When Bruce saw that Dick was out of view of the call, he answered.

“Batman, thank goodness. I was afraid I would miss you.” Superman looked disheveled.

“What is it?”

“I really could use your help with that Lexcorp case I was telling you about.  I think he is moving in quicker than we thought.”

“Have you been exposed?”

Dick looked at Clark.  He looked flushed, a tell tale sign of Kryptonite exposure. 

“Yeah I think so.  It doesn’t feel quite like pure Kryptonite, but there is definitely something in the tech.”

Bruce was biting his lip again. “The Lexcorp executive team was nervous when I asked them about the audit on the project.  Lucius was concerned at the implications of the contaminate factors for water sources as well.”

“I hate to ask, but I don’t understand half the tech.  And well, I am not confident I should dismantle it myself, but with the possibility of the Kryptonite too…”

“I'm on my way. I will be at Watchtower for a full briefing in half an hour.” Bruce cut off the call.

“Do you need me for this?” Dick tried to sound uninterested.

“Hrm, I don’t think we will. But if something comes up, be on standby.  Are you going out tonight?”

Dick fixed his expression so as not to give away his disappointment.  “I wasn’t planning on it. We don’t have the autopsies back yet, and I wanted to look into something I heard Harvey say last night.”

“Do… do what you can from the cave, and you can monitor the Lexcorp op from here.” Bruce bit back his question. Do you need anything from me? Don’t hover.  Give him room. Mentor not parent.

“Ok.  See you… tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” Bruce agreed.

It turned out there was little to monitor from the cave. Batman had the mission well in hand and never needed to direct anything to the Batcave, so Dick grew bored and refocused his energy on Gotham.  Robin spent the better part of an hour sorting through text messages--illegally retrieved from phone carrier servers--between various members of Falcone’s gang. He filed some of the intel for future reference; it appeared there was a developing interest in some scientist from Central City.  He would have to flag that with B. He hoped the woman had nothing criminal going on. Her name was familiar; maybe Wally had a thing for her? 

Ehn. It didn’t matter.

What he really wanted was more information on the drugs that Harvey had mentioned the other night.  If this was all about new drugs hitting the streets, then they need to kill that quickly. New designer drugs in Gotham were never good.  

 Dick’s eyes itched as he continued to sort through endless emails and text messages.  Most were benign but the Falcones like to use code within words so the police couldn’t catch on. However, he and Bruce had gotten pretty good at spotting what was actually a spelling error and what was truly missing from a message on purpose.  He had even been working on developing a program to sort Falcones’ messages for them, but he hadn’t gotten it to be completely accurate yet. So he was left reading, highlighting and going back and forth to the dictionary to try and nail down where they would be. Dick wanted to get a sample of the drug and then just maybe he could see what they were dealing with.  

Bingo, a time and location.  

Wednesday, 11:45, dock 68.  

Robin smiled, finally a break in the case. Well, if this was even about the drugs….  

Dick was just going through blueprints of the warehouses on the dock when the Batcomputer let out a chirp. 

The Batsignal had been lit.  Dick leapt up and raced to his R-cycle.  Please don’t be the Joker, Please don’t be the Joker.  Robin wove through traffic, speeding through the city.  Dick was glad B always made him suit up if he was on standby for the League. It definitely saved him time tonight.  Robin stashed his bike, enabled the lock system so no one unapproved could move it, and began scaling the Gotham PD building. Gordon was standing facing the harbor. He wasn’t pacing.  Robin felt tension leave his body. Not the Joker then. 

“Heya, Commish!” Robin flipped over the man and landed lightly on his feet.  Dick instantly regretted the action. It had been unnecessary, and the co-codamol had long worn off.  “What seems to be the trouble?”

“Robin. Where is Batman?” Jim looked around.

“Oh he sent me to see what was going on?” Best not to mention that he was out of town.  You never know with GPD, but if someone overheard and they were on the books… well it could be a pain later.

“Oh.  Well it’s nothing time sensitive. But I was wondering if you had anything on what caused the Facers and Falcones to feud?”  Jim ran his hand over his chin. “This one really has us stumped. Mind you the coroner is taking their sweet time with the autopsies.”

“Still just three deaths, yeah?”

“Yes, but it feels like they are gearing up for something big.”

“Do you have an ID on the second body?” Dick liked Rusty, but the Facers would want to go after someone more important in Falcone’s hierarchy if they thought he killed Tattoo.

“Christopher Castillo.”

Robin kept his face impassive, but he could feel his heart sped up. Louisa Falcone had a soft spot for Christopher. If there was one sure way to hit Carmine Falcone where it hurt most it was to piss off his wife.  If this wasn’t handled quickly then they were heading for an all out gang war.

“Well, we don’t have anything congregate, but the working theory right now is Penguin is involved.” Dick put his hand on his hip. “He was after Tattoo the night he died…” Robin frowned

“Robin?”

“Has Tattoo’s autopsy been completed?”

“No. Why?”

Robin rubbed his hip, just over where the skin had split. “I just--well how opposed would you be if B and I took a look?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Jim walked over to the Batsignal, and turned off the beam. When he turned around Robin was gone. Jim chuckled and lit a cigarette. He could just hear a distant cackle when the wind blew just right. 

Robin swung down to his bike and headed for the nearest safe house.  He didn’t want to waste time going all the way back to the cave. Once safely inside, he began pulling out a trace evidence kit from the makeshift medical bay. Unclasping his tunic, he examined his hip.  The cut on his hip was shallow enough he had mistaken it for a split, but it was in fact a laceration. He quickly swabbed it. And placed the swab in a bag to examine further at the Batcave. It was unlikely to have any evidence left in the cut after two days and several showers, but it was always best to check just in case.  He would have to go over the uniform he’d been wearing that night as well. It was lucky Alfred hadn’t had time to wash and repair it yet. He grabbed a full forensics kit and was on his way.  

Dick hated the morgue.  It made his skin crawl. The room was unnaturally cold and always smelled of ammonia.  Dick wasn’t sure if the smell or the sight of the dead that caused his stomach to gurgle.  Whenever possible Batman took care of examining bodies for evidence. Dick didn’t know if it was because Bruce knew of his aversion to the dead, or Batman just preferred to do it himself.  Dick was thankful that he had never pushed for Dick to do more of the field work on homicides, but dead bodies tended to be part of the gig. And so Batman had made sure Robin knew what to look for, what was typical and what was not.  It helped that Dick had lots of experience helping Alfred patching up his and Bruce’s injuries.  

Robin pulled out a drawer marked “Tattoo.”  The man was paler than he had been in life, almost ashen.  The ink on his arms stood out prominently. Holding his breath, Robin took several pictures of contusions and lacerations on the man’s torso and extremities.  He had several defensive wounds on his arms. Robin forced himself to thoroughly examine each one, taking pictures and swabbing for any trace evidence left behind.  He measured each injury and took notes on depth and possible cause. He recognized several that he had caused, and made note: batarang, and wrote an estimated time, so he could more accurately catalog a timeline for his other injuries.  It was while examining a particularly nasty cut on his upper arm, that Robin found it, a thin sliver of metal. Using a set of tweezers he pulled it out and placed it into an evidence bag. 

While he was fairly certain what the metal had come from, he needed to wait, needed to be one hundred percent positive.  He had botched the case at every turn so far; this needed to be airtight. So Robin, after careful documentation, closed the drawer and moved on to the next. 

Christoper Castillo. 

 He was a lot younger than Dick had expected. It wasn’t hard to find the cause of death: gunshot wound to the back of the head. It hadn’t been so much a homicide as an execution.  Robin was glad Batman wasn’t present. GSWs always made Bruce tense. 9mm slug with no rifling at close range, there were flash burns on the back of his head next to the entry wound.  Once again holding his breath, Dick made quick measurements and closed the drawer.

Finally Rusty.  Robin hesitated before pulling the drawer open.  Get it over with.  He yanked the handle harsher than was necessary.  Robin quickly turned away and emptied his stomach into an unused medical dish on the examination table. Taking deep breaths through his mouth, so as not to smell Rusty’s burnt flesh, he turned back to the man.  

“Oi, kid what you doing out here?” 

Robin looked down into the alley, spotting a red headed man, his face was so freckled he was almost tan.  

“Go home to your ma, kiddo.  Streets ain't no place for someone so young.”

Robin hopped down from the roof onto a fire escape. “Why are you out so late then?”

“Why am I ?  Kid just how old are you anyway?” The man squinted up at him. “You can’t be even seven.”

“Hey, I’m nine!”

“Nine? Son of a --  heaven’s you’re small.” The man rubbed the back of his neck. “So it’s true then the Bat’s got a kid working for him.”

“No, with him.  We’re partners.”

The man swore under his breath. “Where is he then kid?  You really should stay with the big bad Bat if your not going to stay home with mom.”

“I don’t…” Dick stopped himself, he shouldn’t tell people his mom was dead. That would give away part of his identity.  Bruce had been very serious about keeping their identities secret. 

“You don’t know where the Bat is? Well how about you come down here and we can figure out how to look for him?”

“I’m not supposed to trust strangers on the street.” Dick sat down, swinging his feet as they dangled between the bars of the hand railing.

The man sighed. “My name’s Rusty. What’s yours, kid?”

“Robin.”

“See now we ain’t strangers.  Do you have a number you can call to get… Mr. Batman, or a place you are supposed to meet at if you get separated?”

“Yeah, we have a radio, but mine isn’t working. So I am supposed… Are you trying to trick me? Batman says that people do that.” Dick was suddenly back on his feet.

“What? No, listen kid. I just don’t like seeing you by yourself out here alright. My niece’s about your age, and I would want someone to help her out if she was lost.”

Dick looked down at the man, head tilted considering.  He threw himself into motion, springing over the handrail and flipping several times before landing on the lid of a dumpster. “We’re supposed to meet at the Wayne Enterprise building if we get separated. But I can’t see it from here.”

“Oh well, thats cuz its behind that Soder Cola billboard. Here I’ll show you.” Rusty turned and walked out of the alley onto the main street. He didn’t turn to see if Robin was following him.  

Dick hopped down from the dumpster and trailed behind skipping.  

“Why are you out this late, Mr. Rusty?”  Robin asked, catching up to the man. 

“I… Well truth be told, I’m waiting for my cousin to drop off somethin’ for me, but he’s late, so he can wait for me to get back.”

“Oh what is he dropping off?” The kid was still skipping.

“Never you mind that. Just grown up stuff. It’s boring.”

Robin turned to face him.  “It sounds like you don’t like it.  Do you not want to wait for your cousin?”

“Well no, but family is family and sometimes you gotta do things you don’t wanna.”

“Then that's not real family.” Robin was looking far off, as if he was no longer thinking about Rusty’s cousin. “Do you need help?”

“I..What?”

“I asked if you needed help.”  The kid was looking at him again.

“No, ole Rusty’ll be alright. They don’t ask for much, and like I said they’re family.”

“Family doesn't make you do bad things.”

“What about your family? They let you out this late? They want you running with the Bat?”

“I don’t know, but they never made me do something that was wrong.”

Rusty was rubbing his neck again.  This kid was going to kill him. “No, family shouldn’t.  But sometimes it’s more complicated than that. Well here we are kid.  Wayne Enterprises.”

“Thank you.”  Robin was pulling out his grappling gun and began looking for a good place to shoot.  

“Yeah, yeah.  Listen kid, you be careful out here ok? It's a rough town and if you let it, she’ll will skin you alive and leave you for the rats.” Robin was suddenly looking at him again grappling points forgotten. “You can’t always count on people helping you.  But if you find yourself in a tight spot, without your Batman, you just ask for Rusty, ok? You never want to find yourself alone in this city.”

Dick couldn’t help but wonder if Rusty had felt alone and the end.  No, stop it.  He continued to work for his cousin even though he knew what bad things he did.  Rusty was a grown man, he made his choice .  Dick bit his lip.  He really wished Rusty had taken up his offers to get him help, to get him away from his family. He felt sick when he noticed small bite marks around his fingers. Rats.

Dick pushed down any feelings for the man who had once helped a lost kid, pushed down any thoughts about sweet wrappers with intel written in loopy writing left where he would find them. Right now was not the time for it.  No, being sentimental wouldn’t help the man now. Knowing Batman had already looked for evidence and cataloged injuries meant this would be a short examination. Robin flipped open the coroner's file on Rusty and looked for any new information.  There wasn’t much. Most of the injuries were antemortem, which made Dick glad he had nothing left in his stomach, but the burns at least were postmortem. Small mercies. Possible cause of death, strangulation. Dick looked up from the report and looked more carefully at the bruising around Rusty’s throat.  Robin reached forward and lift one of Rusty’s eyelids, broken blood vessels. But unless Dick wanted to examine Rusty’s lungs it would just be a theory.  

Instead he took scans of the bruising around this neck to pull prints and closed the drawer. He was feeling lightheaded and most certainly not up to performing a full autopsy on a… friend. Instead, he cleaned his vomit from the tray, making sure to leave no DNA evidence that could be used to identify him, and packed up his findings for further examination at the Batcave. 

When he arrived back at the Batcave, he found a plate of sandwiches and a pot of tea sitting on the desk. No chance of eating that tonight.  Only when he peeled off his mask did he realize he was crying. He sat heavily at the Batcomputer and pulled out the evidence bags he had collected. He sorted them out by murder and placed them with their respective files. He looked at the time, 2:30 am.  Great, it was going to be an all nighter. He took a small shaving off the sliver found in Tattoo’s body and placed it in the mass spectrometer. Once the machine was processing the material, he made his way to the locker room. He needed to see if there was anything on his damaged uniform.  

There was in fact small flecks of metal and paint just on the hip, right where Penguin had stuck him with the tip of his umbrella.  He collected the flakes and programmed the computer to compare the two samples. It would take several hours to be done. So Dick made his way back to the desk rubbing sleep from his eyes and checked on Batman’s op in Metropolis. There was a notification.

Dick sat up immediately alert.  He opened the notification.

Operation longer than expected. Will not be back until Thursday. 

Dick sank back.  Great. He had been counting on Bruce to help him with the drug bust tomorrow.  He would have to work on adjusting the plan for the bust after school tomorrow to work for a lone man operation. He looked again at the time, 4:00 am. Had he really been down here that long. Alfred would be getting up in an hour. He still had time before the samples would be done analyzing, so he turned back to the blue prints he had been examining early.  Might as well get a jump on planning for tonight. 

Alfred found him head down on the desk drooling on the files

Chapter Text

Seven: Perses

Let the sky’s weight crush me or make the ground set me free for you have the ability to hold me or destroy me completely.  

The constant beeping was obnoxious.  Bruce must have changed his alarm from the radio setting. However, when he tried to roll over he found himself slipping from the Batcomputer chair and crashing to the hard stone floor of the Batcave.  Dick groaned as he was rudely pulled to reality. The mass spectrometer was emitting the loud noise that had woken him. The plate of sandwiches and pot of tea had been cleared away. Alfred must have been down already. Dick looked at his watch, 8:30 am.  He was half an hour late for school. Leaping from the ground, Dick launched himself over to the machine to turn off the alert, and bounded up the stairs taking them two at a time.  

“Alf!” Dick bolted around the corner of the kitchen and skidded to a stop next to an impassive Alfred.  “Alf I am so sorry, I overslept. Can you--”

“I called you out of school.”

“You... what?” Dick blinked.

“I called you out of school, sir.  It appeared this morning as if you hadn’t slept properly and so I called you in sick.”

“I… You… But that’s against the rules.  If I go out as Robin, I have to go to school.”  Dick didn’t understand. The rules hadn’t changed since he was nine.  Bruce had drilled it into him. If you can’t handle being Robin and going to school, then you can’t be Robin.  Had he been benched?

“Yes, however I believe that you have been working extra hard and just this once will not destroy your education.”  Alfred folded a dish towel and turned to Dick. “Now off to bed, if you please. The security footage showed you had only been asleep for an hour.”

Dick had just laid down when he realized he had not in fact looked at the test results in the Batcave. His eyes snapped open, and he rolled to his feet.  Alfred would be sure to turn him back to bed if he saw Dick going back to the cave. But he knew sleep would be impossible with the uncertainty hanging over his head.  So, Dick found himself once again padding down the corridor of the residential wing of the manor. The carpet felt soft--Alfred must have just had it washed. It smelled distinctly like lavender. Bruce liked lavender; Dick thought it must remind him of his mother.  There was a half empty bottle of women’s perfume that sat on B’s dresser, and Selina didn’t smell like flowers. She always had a light soapy smell to her. Dick paused at Bruce's bedroom door. 

He knew Bruce wouldn’t be there, yet the room still made him feel better when he was tired.  Dick wondered if Zitka was still there. He hadn’t slept with the stuffed animal in over a year, and the last time he had seen it was when he had jokingly lent it to Bruce after a difficult evening with Johnathan Crane.  Bruce had been hit with fear gas. For once it hadn’t been Dick seeking Bruce out in the middle of the night, but Bruce looking for him. While it hadn’t been fun to deal with the side effects of the gas, it had been nice to know Bruce wanted him around.  The man had panicked each time Dick left the room. Eventually he had given up trying to go back to his own room and had instead fallen asleep reading to his guardian.  

Dick put his hand on the door. He missed the old elephant that his father had sown for him.  He had never told Bruce why he kept the old toy. Maybe B had gotten rid of it. Dick turned away from the room, not wanting to know if another thread that connected him to his parents had been cut.  

Slipping past Alfred had been much simpler than Dick could have predicted. While on the main staircase Dick spotted the butler outside.  Alfread was busy minding the peonies that lined the front path. 

Dick shivered as he entered the Batcave, normally he wouldn’t go down without his shoes.  The floor always felt like ice on his toes. Not wanting to be discovered by Alfred, he hurried to the Batcomputer and pulled up the analysis. 

Sample one largest component composition:

C 

Cr 

Ni

Mo 

Va 

Database match:4041 Steel with traces of black paint number 48654 

Sample two largest component composition:

C

Cr

Ni

Mo

Va 

Database match: 4041 Steel with traces of black paint number 48654

Analisis match 84%.  

Sample one additional genetic material detected. 

Sample two additional genetic material detected; database match: Richard Grayson  Genetic material 4% match to sample one. Sample two additional organic materials detected; database match: Wayne Tech polymer fibers, red color 9.4.

Dick sank into the computer chair.  This was it. Proof Penguin had attacked Tattoo.  Tattoo had been beaten with Penguin's umbrella. The tip had broken and a piece of it had been left imbedded in Tattoo’s arm.  The umbrella likely had been cracked when Oswald had hit Dick in the hip earlier in the evening. Dick frowned, the genetic material match would have to be cleared before passing the evidence to the police.  Dick must have bleed on Penguin’s umbrella.  

Dick was grateful for the Justice League’s agreement with the federal government that enabled them to submit evidence with redacted information to protect their identities.  It had made working in Gotham a lot simpler. When the League had just started and were less trusted, he and Bruce had to be far more careful collecting evidence. The agreement had made investigations a lot easier.  They no longer had to throw out evidence that would have convicted the criminal but opened Batman and Robin up for detection. There had been several times that Jim had accidently misplaced a blood sample, in Robin’s first two years. 

Dick saved the analysis to the case file and bagged the samples. By the time he was done, his eyes were itching.  That nap was sounding better by the minute. 

When Dick woke it was already dark out.  Alfred had let him sleep through lunch. Dick hoped Alf wasn’t coming down with something.   It was odd that he had called him into school and let him sleep so late. He never let him or Bruce sleep in like this.  Even if they had had an especially late night.  Dick slipped downstairs and found a tray sitting on the kitchen counter.  He frowned. 

 “Alf?” 

The manor’s silence was his only reply. Dick looked around and spotted a note on the refrigerator door.  

Master Dick, 

I have gone out to assist Miss Kyle. She has fallen down some stairs at her apartment. I have left your dinner ready to be heated up on the counter.  

Alfred

Selina must be really hurt if she called the manor.  Dick pulled out his phone to text Bruce. But no, Alfred would tell B, if it was really bad.  He put the phone down and turned to his dinner. It was like chewing rubber. Alfred’s cooking was great but Dick’s mouth was dry and his stomach felt unsettled.  Finally giving up Dick headed down to the cave to suit up for the night.

While he was worried about Selina, he was glad Alfred was out of the manor.  He was definitely breaking his two school nights a week rule. But there was no one else in town he could send in his stead.  Bruce was in Metropolis and Catwoman would likely be down and out for the foreseeable future, so Robin needed to step up. Alfred would have pinched his ear, and sent him back upstairs.  Dick only felt slightly guilty when he thought about how the man had let him rest all day. And Dick had to admit he felt better. His legs and lower back were not feeling pain every time he stepped, and his shoulder was only slightly sore when he stretched it out.  While he wasn’t back to one hundred percent he was at least back over fifty.  

Robin looked over at his bike.  Alfred would likely not get back until late tomorrow, but he didn’t want to risk the man coming down to the cave and finding out Dick had gone out without permission. That meant he had to leave the R-Cycle behind. 

It was raining.  Robin felt the drops pelting his face as he swung through the city. It was on nights like this he missed living with the circus.  They had always traveled south once the cold set in. He had never really seen snow, until he moved to Gotham, but right now he would happily give up snow, if it meant he never had to deal with freezing rain again.  The half frozen drops stung as they smacked his exposed cheeks. 

 He had been so excited that first winter in Gotham. 

“Bruce! Bruce wake up!”  Dick leapt up on his guardian’s bed and tackled the sleeping man. Over the course of the year Bruce had worked hard not to wake up swinging.  The first time Dick had come into his room and jumped on him had been awkward. He had thrown the all too small eight year old across the room.  It was lucky Dick was a trained acrobat, he had simply flipped and landed on his feet. Bruce had continuously apologized for a week.  

“Chum, it’s not even six yet.” 

“But look! Look!”  Dick was off and bounding across the room.  Sunlight filled the room as Dick proceeded to rip the curtains open.

Bruce groaned and pulled the covers up over his face to hide from the suddenly bright room.  

“Bruuuce!” Dick pulled the duvet up and stuck his face under right next to Bruce’s.

Resigning himself to an early morning, Bruce opened his eyes. “Yeah?”

“You have to look, B.”

“Ok, ok.” Bruce pushed himself up and blinked away the sleep.  Outside there were large white flakes falling from the sky. The grounds had a thick blanket over them.  Bruce frowned, he didn’t know if Dick had ever seen snow before. It suddenly seemed like a serious oversight in his knowledge of the boy. He cleared his throat. “Um, Dick? Is this the first time you’ve seen snow?”

“Umm well no, but never this much of it. There was one time when we were in London, but it didn’t stay, it...” Dick paused trying to remember the word. He wiggled his fingers spreading his hands out. 

“Melted, chum,” Bruce supplied. 

“Oh thanks, that is a weird word.  It melted when it hit the ground.” His eyes were wide as he surveyed the snow building up on the ground.  

“Well that settles it.  Go get bundled up.”

Dick smiled at the memory. It had been a fun day.  Bruce had shown him how to make snowmen, and forts out of snow.  They had stayed outside pelting each other with snowballs into the late afternoon.  Alfred had finally come out and declared it too cold for them to say out any longer.  Bruce had then panicked, realizing Dick didn’t have the same cold weather training he did.  

Dick snorted thinking about the number of blankets and the endless hot cocoas that Bruce had gotten him.  He had only stopped stoking the fire in the study when Dick had started sweating. While winters with Bruce had had their moments, he still missed the months spent in warm places around the world.

Snow had seemed like a fantastic dream when he was small, something far off and magical. The circus had always traveled to warmer places, as most of the families couldn’t afford heating in their trailers.   When he was six the circus had stayed in the south of Greece. That was his favorite Christmas he could remember with his family. His cousin Johnny had taken him swimming almost every day that winter. Dick felt a familiar ache in his chest.  It was hard to think of Johnny anymore. Usually missing John came with thinking about his aunt and uncle. Even in his memory they remained an inseparable group. Maybe it was being the same age now as Johnny had been when they fell. Dick shook his head, frozen drops flying everywhere.  

Lost in thought, Dick was surprised when he arrived at the docks. He tucked himself away above the main entry, but with a view of the water so he could see if anyone arrived from either direction. He checked the time: 10:12 pm.  He suspected that one party would arrive a bit early. No trust amongst thieves after all. 

Unfortunately, Dick had not turned off his GPS when he left the cave.  

“Robin?”

Dick stiffened, then realized that B wasn’t behind him just on comms.

“Umm, yeah?”

“Why are you out?”

“I found a drug shipment while sorting through stuff at the cave, and well, your not in town so….”

The line was silent.  Dick swallowed waiting for orders to go back to the cave.  

“No patrol this weekend then.” The line went dead.

Robin sat blinking, unsure of what to make of this turn of events. He wiped the rain off his mask and turned on the recording.  All that was left to do was wait. He had mapped out all the warehouses around the dock and planned all possible escape routes and memorized the layout of nearby roads.  Robin was ready.  

After what felt like hours, a car pulled up to the dock. Three men got out.  Falcone’s men. He recognized one of them. He bit his lip, was that Rusty’s brother? Man, what was his name? Robin pushed the thought aside and began looking for weapons.  They all had pistols tucked into their belts, but other then that they didn’t have anything visible to his mask’s scanner. The men seemed relaxed. They were quietly joking amongst themselves. 

After another twenty minutes a small speed boat pulled up and docked.  Two men disembarked and walked towards the group. The men shook hands and two even hugged each other.  This was no new arrangement. These men had been supplying Falcone for a while. Dick felt irritation bubble up in his gut.  Batman and he had gotten sloppy. Their attention was split between too many things. They should have known there was incoming shipments regularly. 

Robin carefully took photos of each man and sent them to be stored on the Batcomputer.  This with the drugs would be enough evidence to put these guys behind bars, maybe even Falcone if they flipped on him.  It wasn’t until a third person got off the boat carrying several briefcases that things went sideways.  

A shot rang out across the docks.  The man hadn’t even fully stepped onto the wooden dock before he was hit.  Robin’s eyes dashed around looking for the source of the shot. The five men near the car all pulled out their guns.  Three black vans pulled up and surrounded the men.  

This was not good. Robin pulled a handful of smoke bombs out of his utility belt.  By the time Robin was swinging into action the van doors had been thrown open and the street was filled with the sound of gunfire.  Robin landed lightly on the top of a van and threw a smoke bomb into the open door. He ran and leapt to van after van throwing the black marbles into each one.  The men, all wearing masks, burst out gagging. While the smoke prevented the vans from firing on Falcone’s men, it did not stop Falcone’s men in the slightest. This night was not going to be without major injuries.

This was supposed to be a simple mission.  Recon, then snatch and go. Now Robin felt out of his depth.  With B or the team, the numbers wouldn’t have been a problem, but by himself… There was no way he could save everyone.  He would be lucky if he came out with just a handful of bruises. His teeth were grinding together. Alfred didn’t like it when he did that.  Dick clamped down in his fear. Fear made you freeze and freezing got you killed, freezing got more people killed. What is you plan, Robin? Think.

 He was majorly out numbered with no available back up.  He had to have a plan, Bruce would have a plan.

Think think think.

“Ok, Robin.  I am down and you are outnumbered. What do you do?”

“Umm, I disarm everyone.”

“There’s too many”

“Aaa, I could ….” Dick stuck out his tongue thinking.  

“You have two options. You can run, or you can confuse them.  You should always run if you have the chance. Do you understand?”

“What do you mean confuse them?”

“Disorient them.  Make them not know which way them are looking.  Use smoke, and sound to throw them off. But I mean it Dick. If you’re outnumbered and I’m not there, I want you to run.”

“Yeah, Yeah. sure thing B.  But can you show me how to do that smoke stuff?”

Right, disarm, confuse. Robin leapt into action, running through the black smoke still issuing from the three vans.  His mask lense allowed him to see the heat signatures of the men through the smoke. He ducked and weaved his way around the men. Each time he passed them he smacked, snatched, and struck out all in the hope of turning them around and or taking their weapons.  The goal was to disorent them. They wouldn’t fire if they didn’t know where their own men were. Fear of friendly fire could be almost as effective as disarming. Once they were confused he would have an easier time picking them off one by one. As he went he dropped more of the black marbles, making the smoke thicker.  

It was shouting and pure chaos.  Just what Robin wanted. He cackled as he moved in to take them down. He threw his voice around the space causing the men to spin and turn in search of a phantom.  

Robin was lucky that night.  Lucky there was no breeze coming off the bay, lucky that he had enough smoke bombs and lucky that by the time the men had become more afraid of him then shooting each other, he had already taken down over half the men.  

He was not so lucky when the butt of a rifle smacked him hard in between his shoulder blades.  The blow wasn’t painful so much as it threw off his balance. The aerial he had been about to land ended with him lying on his back instead of his feet.  His vision went white. His lower back and hips were not happy with their forced introduction to the ground. Robin rolled to his feet and elbowed the offending man in the gut, doubling him over. Using the man’s involuntary reaction against him, Robin kneed him hard in the face.  Yeah, that was definitely a broken nose.  

Robin stood panting over seventeen men, ten who would be needing medical treatment for bullet wounds and three who were dead. Unfortunately, he had no time to revel in his victory, or fume at the deaths.  Instead, he pulled out zip ties and began securing the still intact and living men. By the time he was tying up the last two, several of the men were coming around. Robin sighed. No rest for the weary.  

Dick put on his biggest smile.

“Hey guys, you sure know how to throw a party.  But maybe next time we can do party poppers instead.”  Robin kicked the pile of rifles he had gathered together.  

“Great, it's the Batbrat.” 

Dick turned around, to face the man.  Rusty’s brother, Joe maybe, or Jimmy. He had the same red hair as Rusty.  

“Hey. So you wanna tell me what’s in the briefcases that’s so important?” Robin asked not looking up as he typed quickly on his holo-wrist computer and routed several ambulances to the scene. 

The only reply was a stream of curses.  Alfred would be pulling out the soap if Dick used any of those words at home.  

“Ok how about an easier question.  Why did Black Mask send Tattoo to break into Fonzie Florist?” Dick asked putting away the computer and turning to another group of men tied together, all sporting False Facer masks.  Robin walked over and pulled the mask away from one of the men’s faces. His eyes were wide and the blood had drained from his face. Well that was new. What could Penguin have that would make them scared?  

“Let it go, kid.”

“Not a chance.  So just make it easier for all of us.  What are you after? A new drug formula? You competing with Joker and Scarecrow for gassiest villain?”

Laughter erupted from the men.

“You think this is about drugs? You and the Bat are dumber than you look.”

Robin’s eyes narrowed behind his mask.  

“Well, why don’t you enlighten me then?”

“Oh hell no, kid.  Just call the cops already cuz it's more then our lives are worth to talk.”

Robin tilted his head considering.  “Well, I guess I don’t need to tell you who really killed Tattoo then.”  Dick rocked back and straightened up turning from the False Facers.  

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, just that I would want to know who really killed him.  I mean you were friends, right? But oh well. I better call you all in to be processed and booked.” Dick walked back towards the vans and raised his hand to his ear to turn his comm on.  

“It was Falcone.  He was killed by Falcone.” 

“Well, that's just what the real killer wanted you to think, but oh well guess they’ll get away with it now.” 

“Wait! Who was it? Kid?”

“You help me, maybe I help you…” Dick slowly turned on his heels half facing the men again.  

“Ahh come on, kid?  I told you, we can’t say.” Seeing the battle was lost Robin turned to Falcone’s men.

“How about you? You want to help me clear your bosses name?”

The men shook their heads jaws clenched. 

Well now Dick was well and truly mad.  A whole two gangs were covering for each other.  Which was a definite sign something big was brewing.  Dick took his anger out on the brief cases of drugs that were piled in the boat. He emptied each and every one into the harbor.  Much to the displeasure of the men tied up.

“Kid, that's thousands of dollars worth of murch!”

“Ahh, come on.  Stop that!”

Robin was careful to keep several samples for evidence.  But as much as he trusted the commissioner, there was no way this amount of drugs would stay safe in Gotham lock up.  Robin had just dumped that last briefcase when the first ambulance pulled up.  

It was late by the time Dick had gotten back to the Batcave and Alfred still hadn’t returned from Selina’s.  Dick threw a sample of the drug on the Batcomputer desk to be analysed later, and made his way back up to the manor.  The rest that Dick had gotten that day felt inadequate compared to the new aches and pains that were racking his body. 

Right now he really wanted Bruce.  He half hoped the man would be sitting with two cups of hot cocoa at the kitchen counter.  He was tired and stumped. This case was driving him insane. He wanted his dad to give him a hug and tell him they would figure it out in the morning.  He wanted to be reminded to stretch before going to sleep. Dick felt a pang of guilt in his chest. That wasn’t fair to Bruce. Bruce wasn’t his dad and they had agreed.  Dick had had a great dad. But sometimes it felt like the ghost of his family was holding him trapped in the past, like he could never be free to be apart of Bruce and Alfred’s family, because that would be like letting go of his own. 

The kitchen was empty.  

He made his way up the long staircase trying to think of anything but the case and of Bruce.  Dick collapsed on his bed and let his mind drift into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Eight: Prometheus 

May this flame burn to hot to steal

This fire my gift to you

Dick sat tapping his foot watching the clock tick down to the last bell.  The day had been agonizingly slow. Babs cast him nervous glances every so often.  Dick checked his phone for the umpteenth time, hoping that Bruce had texted him. He had not.   Dick was looking forward to getting home. The drug sample needed to be analyzed and he had completely forgotten to start his essay. The fact that Bruce had said he would be home tonight had nothing to do with it.  

“Ma’s? No way.”

Dick’s ears perked up as two boys sat heads together at the back of the classroom.   

“Yeah, I know! I thought it must be-- you know-- just a joke, but they really shot Billy there.”

“But it’s Ma’s. That’s the only place that doesn’t get hit.”

Ignoring the possibility of the teacher seeing him on his phone, Dick pulled up the Gotham Gazette. 

Two men were shot dead in Ma’s Old Fashion Diner this morning at 10:24 am.  Another four people were injured in the incident, however the police have assured us that none of the injuries were life threatening. Commissioner James Gordon made the following statement: “At this point we believe the incident to be related to an ongoing investigation regarding a gang dispute. However, rest assured, Ma’s has no current implication in this event.”

Dick locked his phone and felt bile rise in his throat.  What had seemed so little to him just a week ago, had lead to the largest break down of the Gotham underworld in the past decade.  How had something as trivial as the purchase of a flower shop in Old Gotham, led to breaking the oldest truce in town. Ma’s diner was an institution in Gotham.  It was so beloved that not even Joker would dare mess with it. There had been a number of times Bruce let a thug go for a night, and had taken extra time to hunt them down the next day, simply because the chase had endangered the dinner.

The body count was now up to a grand total of eight people. Eight people, that Dick had inadvertently gotten killed.  Dick wasn’t stupid enough to take all the credit, but he had definitely helped get the ball rolling. Tattoo’s death had been the start of it all-- no, that stupid flower shop.  Dick’s face felt hot. He needed this to end, needed this case to be solved. Whatever Penguin was hiding, Batman and Robin would find it tonight.  

Dick looked down as his phone lit up. With none of his usual grace he grabbed at the phone.  However, it wasn’t Bruce. It felt like a balloon burst in his chest when the notification was from Wally. 

Hey man. Will you be at the cave later?

Wally never could remember not to talk shop over a civilian line.

No, I don’t think so. Gotham stuff. Dick shot back keeping his eyes fixed on the whiteboard.  Texting without looking really came in handy in this class. Mrs. Kelly’s eyes were sharper than a hawk, and she was strict. 

Aww Come on man. It's been forever.

Dick sighed and locked his phone.  He felt drained. Sometimes it seemed Wally forgot he was only human and needed time to get things done.  Not everyone was a speedster. Gotham was nothing like Central City. In Central, things seemed to have a sort of... technicolor hue to them, and he didn’t just mean Flash and Kid Flash’s costumes.  But in Gotham? Here it seemed like the place just was getting darker by the day.  Even Robin’s uniform had changed in recent years. Dick wasn’t sure if it was a sign of him growing up and being more practical or if Gotham had gotten to him.  Maybe it had started to leech him of his circus wildness and had left him more subdued. Maybe that was what had happened to Bruce. Dick wondered vaguely if that was why Batman didn’t allow other heroes into Gotham; not because he didn’t trust them, but because he was trying to save them from the city itself.  

Only when the bell rung did Dick snap out of his daze.  

Leaves and grass sloshed underfoot as Dick made his way up the long drive of the Manor.  The bracken still slick with rain stuck to his shoes. Dick let himself into the entry hall and began prying off the now waterlogged loafers. His head snapped up when he heard two voices murmuring at the top of the stairs.   Dick was only slightly disappointed to see that it was Alfred who was helping Selina down the main staircase.

“Kitten! How was school?” She was leaning heavily on both the banister and Alfred.

“Hey Selina, Alfred. It was ok.  How are you feeling?”

“As well as one can be when you’ve pissed off the princess of hell .”

Dick frowned.  What on earth could Selina have done that would have made Talia Al Ghul attack her?

“Now, now Miss Kyle, you know how I feel about improper language in this house.” Alfred kept a steady hand on her back down the whole flight until they reached the foyer. 

“Yes, of course, I would hate to be a bad influence on such impressionable young ears.” She gave Dick a small wink when Alfred had turned away.

“Is Bruce back yet?”

“No, although he did call and promise to be back today.” Alfred tugged Dick’s jacket off and set it on its hanger in the coat closet. 

“Oh… right.” Dick turned back to Selina, “Why were you and Talia fighting?”

“I...aaa...” Selina blushed. “I may or may not have stolen something Talia thinks was hers.”

“What did you take?”

“Oh, nothing that was really hers.  Now where is my hug?”

It turned out to be a rather enjoyable evening, if one could forget that Dick still had a case to solve and Bruce still hadn’t gotten back from Metropolis. He and Selina had lounged about the study while Dick worked on his essay for history.  She had even offered some interesting details, mostly about famous acquisitions that had occurred during the war.

  Dick didn’t mind spending time with Selina, she was by far his favorite girlfriend Bruce had had since Dick had lived with him.  She was cool, never needled when he changed topics, and honestly reminded him a little of his mom. They were absolutely nothing alike. So it made no sense. 

 His mom had been loud and excitable.  She had never really taken time to think before jumping, she trusted far too easily and his dad had always been sure to catch her.  His mom had been the life of the party, the center of attention. Not because of her looks, but because she was always laughing and telling a story full of adventure. She had drawn people to her, like a moth to flame. 

Selina was weary of people.  She was sly and used her looks to trick her way into a room full of powerful people.  But she never could be found at the center of a crowd. She prowled its edges. She was calculated in a way that made her such a good match for Bruce.  She could look at a chess board and see all the possible outcomes before you could even make your first move.  

No, they were nothing alike at all.  But somehow talking with her in the study with the fire going, gave him the same feeling he had gotten after an all day tumbling practice with his mom.  

“Ahh, Kitten, what’s got your head spinning?”

Dick realized he had been staring into the fire for far too long.  “Just thinking about my mom.”

“Mmm, is that what has been bothering you lately? Bruce has been in knots trying to figure it out.”

“What? No… I mean, I don’t think so.” Dick pulled his feet up under him.  

“Well then why don’t you tell me what you are thinking?”

“I just think I'm not… I should be better.”

“Better how?”

“Better at this. Everything. Robin… I don’t know.”

“Hmm, well I know Bruce doesn’t say it much, the idiot, but he thinks you’re the best.  A couple weeks ago, I asked if he wanted to go out and he told me that you were going to be home for dinner.  He said he couldn’t miss it and told me we could go out next time you went to the cave.”

Dick furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember the night.   

“The man digs your company far more than mine.  And I have been absolutely forbidden from joining the two of you on patrol.  Bruce never did know how to share.” Selina stretched out on the couch and winced.  

“You should get some rest.” For as lucid as she had been all evening, Dick knew that she must be in some serious pain.  

“Hello, Pot.  I’m Kettle.” Selina mumbled into her throw pillow.

However, after a few more moments her breathing evened out and she was asleep.  

Dick twisted himself around to look at the old cuckoo clock hanging near the door of the study.  9:26. Where on earth was Bruce? Had the case in Metropolis taking longer? 

Dick slid off the couch and made his way through the manor.  He could hear Alfred whistling faintly. The sound was disjointed and echoey.  He must be in one of the ballrooms.  

One of the things that had taken Dick a long time to get used to when he had first come to the manor, was the way sound traveled in it.  The way it bounced off the walls and floor had been so unsettling. The trailers and tents of the circus had either absorbed the sound or let it disperse into the open air.  The first night, Dick had hidden in the wardrobe of his bedroom, anything to stop the echoes of footsteps and of water running through the pipes. Bruce had panicked when he found the bed unoccupied the next morning, and Dick had woken to his new guardian running throughout the house calling for him.  The next night a sound machine had been set up and waiting for him next to his bed.  

Dick turned the hands on the old grandfather clock until they landed on the right time and slipped past when the clock swung forward to admit him.  The cold air for the cave washed over him along with the strong smell of wild bats. Dick moved silently down the stairs. Plucking the small plastic packet from the desk, Dick made his way over to the lab and carefully placed a small pinch of the drug into a vile.  He slowly went about setting up several analyses on different instruments. Even if the drug had nothing to do with Penguin, they still needed to be tackled. He glanced at the time, 10:40.  

Where was Bruce? Dick was starting to feel uneasy.  He made his way to the uneven bars and chalked up. After working through several light routines he dropped back to the mat. His shoulder was aching again.  11:24. 

 He didn’t think he could wait any longer.  Slowly, he made his way over to the changing room and suited up.  He took his time doing up his clasps and sticking his mask over his eyes.  Dick sat on the hood of the Batmobile, fingers drumming against the polished metal.  He glanced at the time. 12:10. Bruce was late, Thursday had come and gone.  

Flipping his wrist computer out, he checked for a message, anything to excuse B’s tardiness.  There was nothing. Anger bubbled up in his gut. Was this not important to Bruce? Batman had been gone for two days and the bodies were piling up.  Decade old truces were falling apart. Yet Bruce couldn’t even show up? 

Dick sprung off the Batmobile and made his way over to his bike.  He took longer than strictly necessary to check the fuel. 

12:27.

He pulled the R-Cycle out of the Batcave. Fine, I don’t need you anyway.   Dick turned off his tracker as he made his way into the city.  

Robin pulled into an empty alley several blocks away from Fonzie Florist.  The ride into Old Gotham had done nothing to temper his anger. He slammed on the breaks and skidded roughly to a stop.  He would do this himself. Eight people were dead, and he would not wait for more bodies to drop to act. Batman or no Batman this case would be ending tonight.  

Robin slinked his way across the rooftops, encased in shadows.  When he arrived at Fonzie Florist he dropped onto a wide window sill and shimmied a window open carefully checking for alarm wires or sensors.  He found two separate systems and disarmed both. Keeping his weight on the balls of his feet he made his way through the top floor of the building.  The floor was comprised of a small, but tidy apartment. It looked as if it had not been touched since the last owner had passed away. Robin combed it thoroughly anyway.  Behind picture frames, under loose floorboards, every nook and cranny was inspected. Nothing.

Robin moved to the stairs. He ran his gloved hands over every step and every crack in the wall.  No hidden compartments.

The shop itself, he had already watched Tattoo go through, and he had filed through the computer.  He picked up every plant, and lifted any loose tiles, then made his way to the back room. He took apart the panels on the refrigerators.  Using his wrist computer he pulled up the blueprints for each model and looked for anything missing or out of place. Nothing. Dick clamped down on his desire to punch the metal door of the refrigerator, and looked around.  It was here somewhere. He knew it. There was something here worth dying for, worth killing for. 

Robin went to the air vent and pried it open.  He was really getting too big for this. The vents in Old Gotham were slightly smaller than anywhere else in town.  He had to shimmy his way in, with his cape tucked under an arm so as not to snag on anything. It was after five minutes of working his way across the building that he smelled it.  The draft that was coming through the vent didn’t smell like the flowers of the shop, but more like fertilizer. None of the fertilizer in the shop had been open.

So there was another room in the building somewhere.  Following the smell Robin made his way forward with renewed excitement.  He dropped into a small unfinished room. The floor was packed dirt and the walls bare concrete.  Ok, so not as promising as he had hoped. There wasn't even a computer. There was nothing but a pile of refined dung. 

Robin sank to the ground and leaned back against the wall. What was he doing? Penguin had probably moved whatever was so important the day after Tattoo had broken in.  The window had been missed, and he had no clue where else to look. Dick looked for the door, to get out of the room. He sighed. It was barricaded with several bags of fertilizer.  Deciding it would be easier to move the bags then to crawl back through the vents, he turned to place the vent cover back on the wall. That was when he noticed the metal had been cut and welded back together.  Robin blinked.  

Keeping his hope in check, he pulled out his batlaser, and began to cut over top the weld.   When the small rectangle fell away, he held his breath. He peered inside, and taped to the inside of the vent cover was a small flash drive.   Carefully he reached in and pried it loose. In his palm sat a sleek metal drive. This was it. He had found it. Robin felt like dancing, like cartwheeling, like leaping out onto a trapeze.  Of course being a professional, he did no such thing.  

Robin slipped the vent cover back into place and moved the bags away from the small door.  He was still feeling quite pleased with himself when he straightened back up and found himself standing in the alleyway that he had fought Tattoo in.  

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the famous Boy Blunder .”

Robin’s head snapped up. Like a complete amateur he had gotten caught up in the excitement and hadn’t scanned the alley before stepping out into it.  

“So you found where that old man hid it, did you?”

“Well, looks like you caught me.  I do believe you’ve got something of mine.” Dick nodded to the grapple gun clipped to Penguin’s belt.  

“What? This little thing? I must say, I’ve become pretty fond of it.” Cobblepot patted the gun affectionately. “Call it payment for breaking my umbrella.” 

“Well, all the same I would like it back.  You know Batman, he is a tad possessive.”

It was at that moment Cobblepot launched at him.  Robin sprung over the man and tucked the flash drive into a compartment of his belt.  A shot rang out mid flip, echoing through the alley. Robin’s side burned.  

“The hell?” Dick spun round and found himself facing Black Mask. Roman Sionis was holding a pistol, the barrel still smoking.   

“I think I’ll take that. Hand it over, Kid.”  His voice was electronically modified by the mask. 

Putting a gloved hand over the bullet graze, Robin turned himself slowly so that he was facing both Black Mask and Penguin.  Dick’s eyes scanned the alley for his best route out of here. As much as he hated running, it was probably a better move to get the flash drive back to the Batcave--who knew what was on the thing.  Black Mask shot again. This time all he got was Robin’s cape. Guns really sucked when they were pointed at you. What he wouldn’t give for Wally’s speed or Conner’s invulnerability right now. But he had been in worse, much worse, before.  Dick needed to think fast. He hated to admit it, but he really wasn't up for a full fight right now. But how did he get out of here without getting shot again? Robin always went up, both Cobblepot and Sionis would know that, so he did the only thing that made sense.  He dove down, throwing a smoke bomb as he moved. The gun went off again. But this time missed completely. Using the smoke to his advantage, he silently made his way out of the alley, followed by shouting and taunting from both men.  

He was almost to his R-Cycle when they caught up to him.  

It was a mix of vaulting and flipping that kept him from being shot again.  However, he was forced to abandon the R-Cycle when his way was blocked by a red-faced Penguin holding what resembled a small rocket launcher.  Robin pulled out his grapple gun and sailed into the sky. Running through Gotham was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. But if he could make it to a safe house, he could wait this out.  He could upload whatever the flash drive contained and send it to the Batcomputer. He stopped. Or he could use his wrist computer. Robin dove under the shadow of an old caryatid and pulled out the flash drive.  

Just as the screen pulled up, he heard the sound of another gun going off. His arm was on fire.  No literally. It was on fire. The bullet had struck the circuits in the glove’s computer and set the glove ablaze. Robin ripped the glove off and used his other hand to pat the smoking skin on his left arm. He had no time to inspect the skin for damage however, and was bounding off once more. It was really lucky the bullet hadn’t broken his arm on impact. His gloves were armored but the left one had spots that when hit just right could do some serious damage.  Bruce had tried to talk him out of the wrist computer more times than he could count. But it was always so handy.  

But they really needed to fix the whole combustible thing. That had been a new one. His shoulder and side protested as he threw himself across rooftop after rooftop.  He needed to shake them and needed to do it fast. Whatever was on this drive better be important.  More shots bounced around his feet and this time Dick felt a burning in his leg, another graze.  

Robin stumbled on the edge of the roof he had just landed on.  He forced himself back onto his feet. Keep going. Keep going. Move or die.  

Robin almost cried when his communicator crackled in his ear.

“Robin .  You get back to the cave. Right now .”  Bruce was pissed.  He was beyond pissed. But in that moment Dick didn’t care. Because Bruce would only know he was out as Robin if he was in Gotham.  

“B.  Penguin and Mask can’t shake’um.” Dick was breathless as he continued his escape.  

“Where are you?” It was a testament to Bruce’s panic that he forgot to ask in code.

“Old Gotham.  84th and Harrison. Heading to WE.”

“I’m on my way.  Don’t stop.”

Dick could hear the Batmobile’s tires squealing as Bruce hit the throttle.  

“No kidding.” 

However, tonight was not his night.  It turned out Penguin did indeed have a miniature rocket launcher.  Because one moment he was standing on a perfectly good stone ledge and the next he was being thrown against a metal fire escape. 

“Robin? Robin!”

Dick could hear Bruce’s voice but it was like it was far away.  Dick’s ears rang, and his head spun. What happened? Robin looked around trying to understand.  Why am I wet?   Dick looked down and frowned. His uniform wasn’t normally that dark.  With his ungloved hand, he felt his uniform; it was sticky. Oh . He thought idly, that’s blood . 

Chapter Text

Nine: Atlas

It was there I saw him, Atlas, stooped and bleeding

Why do you hold the sky?

He looked down at me with sad eyes

Who else is there?

Bruce pulled into the manor’s drive and quietly turned off the engine.  He was tired. Dealing with Lex Luthor was never fun, but dealing with a half Kryptonite sick Superman was even worse.  He was ready to be home. The manor was quiet, Alfred had long gone to bed and Dick was either asleep or down in the cave waiting for him. Bruce really hoped the boy was sleeping.  Leaving his bag by the door he made his way up the stairs. 

Bruce frowned when he reached the residential corridor.  One of the guest room doors was open. He poked his head in expecting a friend of Dick’s to have stayed over, but instead he found Selina. She was propped up and her leg was elevated. Bruce felt his heart skip a beat. He stood watching her breathe for a moment. It was even and she didn’t look like she was in pain at least. 

Turning away, he padded down the corridor to Dick’s bedroom. It was empty. Bruce sighed and turned back down the hall. So he was in the cave. Guilt bubbled up in his gut.  He hated to picture Dick sifting through files, or working on the uneven bars alone all evening.  But no, Selina was here.  Dick would have at least spent time with her.  Bruce smiled at the thought.  Selina had always said she didn’t want kids-- it was one of the things that made Bruce hesitate to date her-- but she lit up around Dick.  Bruce had been sure that their on again off again relationship had ended for good when he brought the boy home. But Selina had surprised him, as she often did.  

Bruce hoped that having Selina for company tonight would temper Dick’s disappointment at Bruce for being home so late.  Lex had more Kryptonite involved in his project then Clark had originally thought. The result had been nearly devastating for Superman.  Bruce loathed to think what would have happened if Clark hadn’t called for back up.  

That didn’t mean that Bruce was happy about his later than expected return to Gotham.  Mentally preparing himself for a less than warm welcome, Bruce opened the passage that lead to the Batcave. He was greeted with silence.  Must have fallen asleep at the computer.  Bruce smiled as he made his way down the stone steps, careful to be silent.  Dick hadn’t been getting enough rest lately. 

So when he found himself staring at an empty computer chair, he was confused.  He glanced around and his gaze fell upon the empty parking space next to the Batmobile.  The R-cycle was gone. It took Bruce a full twenty-two seconds to understand Dick had gone out as Robin.  No, that wasn’t right. He had gone out over his weekly limit. Dick didn’t break rules. Bruce went over to the Batcomputer, and pulled up Robin’s tracker. Dick must have gone to the Cave or he was at Wally’s, maybe Barbara’s house.  

The tracker was turned off. 

Bruce let the worry he had been holding at bay hit him.  He pulled out his phone and made is way to the changing rooms.  

“Hey this is Dick, just kidding it’s a machine.  Leave a message and if it’s cool enough I might call you back.”

Bruce hung up. 

He pulled out a comms unit and opened a channel. He received static.

Bruce found himself back at the computer.  Why wasn’t the comm working? “Batcomputer reactivate Robin’s tracker.”

“Tracker offline.”

“Contact Robin on main comms.”

“Main comms system not receiving.” 

That made Bruce panic. Dick was never without his wrist computer, which held his connection to the Batcomputer and even the Watchtower. 

“Computer, contact secondary comms unit.”

“Remote activation will take five minutes”

 Frustrated he ripped the ear piece out and opened his phone again.

“Bruce, it is two in the morning. Why are you calling?”  Barry Allen spoke with his speech slurred from sleep.  

“Is Dick in Central?”

“Umm… No, Wally is staying with us tonight. So, definitely not.”

Bruce hung up.  

“Mr. Wayne?” Jim was already awake, but sounded tired.

“Jim, is Dick over?”

“Umm…” Bruce listed to him wondering about his apartment. “No, he isn’t here.  I’ll ask Barbara if she knows where he is.” 

Bruce was fully suited up by the time Jim spoke again. 

“She doesn’t know. Bruce, do you need me to come over?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, call when you find him. Will you?”

“Of course. Thank you, Jim.”

The computer had finished the override. The comms unit came to life. Finally .

“ Robin . You get back to the cave. Right now. ”

Dick was breathing heavily.  Bruce felt himself tense up.

“B. Penguin and Mask--” 

Ice washed over Bruce’s body.

“--can’t shake’um….”

Bruce didn’t remember getting in the Batmobile, but suddenly he was turning the key. “Where are you?” Don’t be on the other side of Gotham. Please say it's just the Narrows or Crime Alley. 

“Old Gotham. 84th and Harrison. Heading to WE.”

Bruce’s heart sank, Old Gotham was on the southernmost point of of the City. “I’m on my way. Don’t stop.” Bruce hit the gas and peeled out of the cave taking curves far to quickly. 

“No kidding.”

Bruce gripped the wheel harder. Dick’s voice was shallow.  He was injured. 

Bruce made it into Gotham. He swerved around traffic and ran every light.  Cars at least tended to move out of his way. Batman was just entering Robinson Park when it happened.  The labored breaths that had been a comforting sound in his ear, stopped. An explosion erupted over the radio link. Bruce could hear stone and metal shattering and colliding.  No .  No.  No. I’m not there. You can’t, not when I’m not there. 

“Robin?” Bruce’s voice broke.  There was no answer. Don’t be, don’t you dare be...   “Robin!”

Robin sat staring down as his now red hand, ears still ringing.   Well that is not good. Mom’s gonna be mad.  No, that wasn’t right.  Dick frowned someone else was going to be mad. He shook his head and pressed his hand back against him. Right, keep pressure. Dick reached out and grabbed the now bent metal railing of the fire escape and pulled himself to his feet. The world tilted and he fell back. He took a slow breath and pulled himself back up again.  

“Robin I swear to --”

“B?” That’s it.  Bruce. Bruce was going to be mad.  

“Robin? What happened?” B sounded strange.

“Um Penguin got a new toy. It’s not fun.” Dick looked around. It wasn’t safe to stay where he was.  Penguin and Black Mask would be closing in. “How close are you?”

“How much time do I have?” 

“Umm, I can play keep away for a bit.” Dick began climbing up the bent ladder on the fire escape. 

“How injured are you?”

Dick looked down at his chest again.  The blood had stopped flowing so it was probably just a superficial cut. But he could already feel bruises forming across his torso and arms. That paired with the bullet wounds to his leg and side…. well it wasn’t looking good for the home team. He pulled himself up a rung and his shoulder gave a loud pop.  Pain shot across his shoulder and up into his neck. Definitely not good.

“It’s all minor… I think. Not sure about my shoulder.”  He really hoped the tendons weren’t torn. The adrenaline in his system was probably keeping him from feeling other injuries, but none of that would matter if he didn’t keep moving.  

“Five minutes.” Bruce was probably breaking every traffic law.  

Dick had finally pulled himself up to the roof.  He wanted to lay down. He wanted to sleep for a month after this.  He probably could. He was going to be grounded at least that long.  

“No Bat tonight?” Dick’s head snapped up. Great. Just fantastic. Carmine Falcone stood looking down at the panting Boy Wonder.

Dick didn’t feel up for talking. He didn’t feel like running either, but he turned and  leapt onto a grotesque. The stone figure wobbled slightly but held his weight. Dick swung himself over to the neighboring roof. 

Keep away. He could do that for five minutes. 

It turned out he could not.  After about a minute and a half of mad leaping from rooftop to rooftop, he found himself cornered by Falcone and Black Mask.  Dick was spent. He was shaking, bleeding, and to top it off, it was now raining-- hard, cold rain.  

“Alright, Robin, let's be reasonable here.” Carmine spoke softly as if to a wounded animal. “Just hand it over and you can go.”

Fat chance .  Robin was too tired to try and argue. “B?”

“Two minutes.”

Robin took a deep breath and rolled sideways over the edge of the roof, and grabbed the gutter.  Using his momentum he swung himself down to a window ledge. In the alleyway below he spotted several men sporting masks.  False Facers. So the ground was not an option. He shot his grappling hook and used it to pull himself up a neighboring building.  If he couldn’t go down, he would go further up. The tug of the line pulling him up was usually exhilarating. Today it made him feel sick.  He was still too far from Batman to wait. His toes had barely touched the hard metal roof of the gothic skyscraper when he noticed Penguin was standing right infront of him.   Robin threw a batarang at him, but Cobblepot just laughed and easily defected the projectile. Penguin raised his umbrella and bullets peppered the ground. Dick cried out as one nicked his ungloved forearm. 

“B. I really need you.” Dick’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Hold on, Chum. I am almost there.”

However, wait Robin could not.  Penguin had leapt forward and smacked the back of his head with the end of his umbrella.  Dazed, Robin fell forward and he could feel Penguin pulling on his belt. No . Dick tried to push the man back, but he was hit hard again. Cobblepot left Robin laying on the ground and rummaged through the belt.  He dumped out batarangs, evidence bags, a snack bar, spare lock picks, a roll of gauze and medical tape before he found what he was looking for.   Dick was too busy trying not to throw up to notice when Black Mask and Falcone joined them on the roof. 

They were arguing now.  Dick pulled himself to his feet.  He needed to get back the flash drive, needed to stall for Batman.  Black mask had his gun pulled and aimed at Penguin. Dick was too focused on them to see Batman.  The Bat swooped in so quickly. The men didn’t have time to react, before he was on them.  

Robin sank back down.  He could wait. Dick watched Bruce work.  He was more aggressive than normal. He was mad.  Penguin at some point lost the flash drive to Falcone, who lost it to Batman.  It was over. Batman had the drive. Dick got up. Bruce would tie them up and they would go home.  Dick was so ready to go home. 

Robin didn’t see Black Mask’s gun.  It went off and suddenly Robin was on the ground.  Batman’s grappling hook was wrapped around his ankle.  Bruce had seen Black Mask and pulled Robin to safety. But it had cost him.  Penguin threw down a vial and gas poured out. Batman coughed and dropped the flash drive and his grappling gun.  His feet were unsteady. Dick’s eyes widened as his mentor-- his father-- tipped back too close to the edge of the roof.  Just when he thought Bruce had caught his balance, Falcone shot the Dark Knight in the chest. And down he went over the edge.

In reality the gun was what Dick should have been able to hear, but his mind tricked him.  It lied, and all he could hear was the sound of metal cord snapping. Dick moved quicker than he would have thought his injured body would allow.  The flash drive lie forgotten, as he threw himself over the edge of the building. He had no grappling gun, no plan to save them. There was no net to catch them this time.

He could hear his Uncle Rick yelling at him.

“Richard Grayson, you know better than to jump out before have the net tied off.”

 Batman was hurtling towards the ground ahead of him, but all he could see was his mother’s outstretched hand.  He blinked. No it was Bruce’s cape. 

He collided with Bruce, changing the man’s trajectory. With one hand he clasped Batman’s shoulder, fingers slipping under a fold in the uniform that enabled Bruce better range of motion and found purchase to hold to. Dick reached out blindly as they plummeted. He snatched at a rusted wrought iron grill that decorated a window.  The metal cut into his ungloved hand as he closed his fingers around it and halted his descent.  But Batman, still held with his right hand, kept falling.  

There was maybe a second where Dick realized how bad this was going to be.  The full weight of Batman falling at near terminal velocity pulled his left shoulder clean out of it’s socket.  Dick screamed but refused to let go. Blood ran down his arm and dripped into his arm pit, as the rusted metal cut deeper into his hand.  

“Br-- Batman.” Dick’s voice shook.  But there was no answer. Whatever gas Penguin had used, Dick prayed it wouldn’t last long. He was grateful he didn’t have to worry about the bullet.  It had hit an armoured plate in Bruce’s uniform. Dicks eyes traveled past Bruce’s limp form. They were high. Much higher than the trapeze platform. Dick swallowed. He could see five bodies mangled on the ground beneath him.  Dick closed his eyes. They’re not there.  They’re not there. The wind rushing in his ears sounded oddly like people screaming.  

Dick didn’t know how long he hung there clinging to his father and the old grill.  

“Hrnn…”

“Batman!” Dick was crying. His arms were going numb, and his shoulder, well he really didn’t want to think about that.  Bruce came to slowly, but Robin knew the exact moment he realized what was going on, because he went board stiff.  

“Robin?”

“Yeah.”

Bruce looked up at him and took in the blood running down his arm and the way his whole body was shaking. The metal was slick from blood and rain, but Dick held tighter.  

“Rob-- Dick… you got to let go.”

“What?” Dick didn’t think his ears were working, had the rocket launcher damaged his hearing?

“I need you to let me go.”

Dick looked down again, they were still over ten stories up. Bruce didn’t have his grapple gun what was he…

“No. You… Don’t ask me...You can’t ask me… No! B.”

“Chum it’s ok.  I need you to let go of my suit and pull yourself up.”

Dick looked back at the ground.  A sixth body had joined the group.  He wanted to throw up.

“Screw you, Bruce.” Dick was pissed, so why was he crying?  Didn’t Bruce understand what he was asking of him? Did he not realize what letting go would mean?  

“You can’t hold both of us.” Bruce’s voice was soft.

“Watch me.” 

Dick swallowed.  He couldn’t watch his family fall again.  Just this once he had to save Bruce. Failure was not an option. 

His arms were shaking, he needed to take pressure off of his shoulder or they would both be dead. He began swinging Bruce slightly away from the building and then back against it. His shoulder protested violently.  Dick bit back a scream and continued.

“Dick--” Bruce voice was low, like the night he had first met him.

“I got you.  Look at me, Chum.  Just look at me, that's it.  Let me get you cleaned up.”

Dick wanted Bruce to wash this hands like he had that first night. The drying blood pulled at the hairs on his arm and made his stomach churn.  It felt too much like his aunt’s blood caking his fingers. He could hear the crowd still screaming in his ears.

“Dick your shoulder can’t take this.  I know its hard, but you have to let me go.”

“Shut up!” Dick didn’t know if he was talking to the memory or Bruce here and now.  Ignoring his shoulder he twisted his body as he and Bruce swung one last time and hooked his knees under Bruce’s armpits and wrapped his legs around his chest.  In the same moment he let go of Bruce’s uniform and pulled himself up with his left arm, ignoring the tearing sensation he felt in his shoulder as he did so. His right hand was just high enough. He grabbed the bar. Robin screamed.

“Dick?” Bruce squeezed his knee. “This is not your fault.  If… if I don’t... know this isn’t your fault.”

Dick didn’t dignify Bruce with a response.  Instead he carefully breathed in and out, letting numbness return to his left arm and shoulder once more.  Bruce squeezed again, his hand a gentle pressure.

Ok. Ok it’s just a pull up. Just a pull up with a two hundred pound plus weight, a dislocated shoulder, and man does this suck.

“Dick?”

“Bruce, I really need to focus right now. So please , for the love of this stupid city, shut up .”

“I.. right. Sorry.”

Dick began to pull them up. He made it about a third of the way, when his arms gave out. “Come on!” Dick roared cursing at the metal rail,  at the building, at the whole city of Gotham. Bruce kept quiet for a long moment. 

“Dick, just high enough for me to reach the bar.  You can do. I’ll meet you halfway.”

It was like being given a lifeline. But then Bruce had always given him a way out. 

“I… err… I was wondering, that is to say. I would like to be your guardian.  If you wanted me to. I can’t replace what you lost, and I won’t try to. But maybe we can help each other out?” Bruce held out his hand rather unsure of himself.  Dick had taken it anyway.  

Halfway, he could make it halfway. 

Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, he started again. He pulled up and curled his legs, lifting Batman higher, He just needed to be a bit higher. Just one more inch. Then one more after that.  One more, Grayson, just lift him one more .  Bruce grabbed the railing and Dick let Bruce go. Dick pressed his forehead into the rough stone of the building just for a moment.  He didn’t have to do anymore; Bruce would get them out of this.

“Can you hold on, or do you need me to push you up first?”

Dick looked over at the man, now hanging next to him.  It was strange looking at the cowl but only hearing Bruce.  

“It's safer to pull someone up rather than push, B. I can wait.”

Bruce nodded and begin lifting himself up. But he never moved out of reach. Dick could no longer feel his fingers in his left hand.  He hoped there wouldn’t be nerve damage. He watched as Batman swung himself over the wrought iron grill and waited; He was too tired to try and lift himself. So he just held on. Batman reached down  and grabbed him, careful of his shoulder. Dick’s whole body was shaking. The moment he felt Bruce’s secure hold, he let go. Bruce never dropped him.

“Dick! How on earth did you get stuck in the chandelier?” Dick could hear Mr. Fox laughing on the other end of the phone.

“Well the ladder fell…. Do you think you could...um get it for me?  Or maybe a mat to land on?”

“I’m coming.” Bruce carried him the whole way back down to the ground.  And Dick had clung to him like a small koala.

Batman pulled Robin up onto the window sill with him.  Though he couldn’t see Bruce’s eyes through the cowl, he could feel them boring into him. Dick swallowed. Here it comes, the lecture . 

Instead, Batman pulled him forward, and wrapped his arms around him.  For a long moment Bruce just held him.

Until finally he pulled away and using a batarang Bruce broke the window and pulled them both inside. Dick let himself be carried.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Asterie

It’s the space between the stars

That black void into which we seem to keep falling

Bruce felt sick as he began to pull himself up. The climb up would have normally required minimal effort, but the lingering effects of the gas left his head spinning.   The dizziness certainly didn’t help his fear that Dick would let go before he could pull him to safety. Dick’s left hand was cut deeply by the rusted metal of the grill and his shoulder was a mess.  The joint was completely pulled out of place. While his sleeves were baggy enough to hide the worst of the injury, it was clear the damage would be benching Robin for months.

Bruce had done that.  He had hurt him.  There had been several times Bruce had questioned his judgement in allowing Robin to exist, but waking up dangling fourteen stories in the air held up by his thirteen year old partner was up there.  He could almost hear Clark shouting at him the day the League learned that the rumors of the Boy Wonder were true.  

“Are you insane?” Clark stood in the newly furnished briefing room of Mount Justice.  “He’s nine. Nine , Bruce. You can’t take him out to fight crime.  I always knew you were crazy but this? I won’t allow it.”

“It’s not up to you.”

“I was voted head of the League. Of course it’s up to me.”

“Then I resign.”

“I… What? You can’t.”

“He needs this Clark.  He is safer with me on the street, than alone.  I’ve banned him from going out. I’ve locked the whole manor down.  He got out anyway. It is not a matter of whether or not he goes out, it's a matter of whether or not he’s alone.  And I won’t leave him alone. So you can either accept that or my resignation.”

Right now, Bruce certainly did feel insane for not listening to Clark.  For years, he had consoled himself that Robin would have died his first year on the street if not for him, but nights like this made him wonder if he had tried hard enough to get the boy to stop all together, before the fight was in his blood.   He looked down at the boy he was meant to be responsible for. Bruce has a sinking feeling that he had let down more than one Grayson. He could only imagine how Dick’s parents would react. He could only picture their ire for the life he had given their son.

Dick’s whole body was shaking from exhaustion.  Finally, after an agonizingly long time of awkward lifting and shifting to adjust his grip, Dick was standing securely on the lip of window sill. But Bruce couldn’t bring himself to let go of the boy.  Bruce struggled to grasp that they were both there. He could only stand, cape wipping around them, holding on to the boy’s tunic and stare at his miraculous boy, this stupid and wonderful child.  

Bruce was a mess.  Half of him was screaming, how could you do this to yourself?  Why won’t you ever just save yourself? I am not worth it . The other half was sobbing with relief.  They were both still standing. Both still breathing.  He pulled Robin forward and wrapped his arms around his son.  Dick was still shaking.  

Had Dick not been injured Bruce would have stayed there until the sun rose.  But he was hurt.  His child was hurt and Bruce needed to get him home.  Batman surfaced again, and Bruce pushed his feelings back.  He needed to get them to the cave. Pulling a batarang from his belt he smashed a pane of glass near the latch of the window. 

Once inside, Batman examined Robin’s shoulder and hand all the while fighting waves of nausea and blinking back black spots.  That gas was nasty. He pulled gauze and a small capsule of hydrogen peroxide from his belt. Robin was silent the whole time he worked.  Not even a hiss escaped his lips as Batman poured the liquid onto his palm. Batman didn’t know what to say, so he just continued to treat his partner in silence.  

The shoulder would be a problem.  It shouldn’t wait to be treated, not with how much weight had been put on the joint.  Dick seemed to understand this, for he merely nodded once and put a corner of his cape in his mouth.  Bruce didn’t want to set the shoulder, but it was necessary. The grinding and popping was made worse by the boy’s silence.  Batman wished Dick would say something, anything .  

The icy silence felt thick.  Bruce had to fight to keep his breath even.  Bruce couldn’t see Dick’s eyes, but he could guess they were a cloudy blue storm.  This cold and silent fury coming off the boy, was unlike Dick’s normal anger. Normally there was an explosion, hot and fiery.  This was new. Bruce found himself unsure of what to do. It felt like the first weeks with the child all over again, where Bruce and Alfred were left guessing and grasping at straws to understand the pain of the new addition to the Wayne family.  

“Richard? Are you hungry?” Bruce ducked his head into the boy’s new room.  The small eight year old was still sitting on the corner of his bed, his small bag at his feet.  Had he not moved in an hour?   Bruce and Alfred had thought it best to give him space.  That is what Bruce had wanted when his… But then maybe Richard didn’t want space. 

The boy turned at the sound of Bruce’s voice, but he gave no answer.  His eyes were watery, and the bruises on his face looked even worse with the added redness of his eyes and nose.  

Bruce wanted to call for Alfred.  He would know what to do. Or maybe he wouldn’t. After all most orphans didn’t turn to a life of vigilantism so maybe Alfred had felt this lost with him.  Bruce entered the room and sat down on the bed with him. They stayed sitting quietly until Alfred called them down for dinner.  

In four years, Bruce had never experienced this.  There had been tears and temper tantrums, laughter and pranks but this raged filled silence was something he had never experienced.  The unexpectedness of it all was more unnerving than the anger itself. The closest he could remember to seeing Dick this way was when Zuko had gone to trial.  But then that anger he had understood-- this was directed at him.

Bruce was eyeing various cuts on Dick’s arms and chest when his comm unit went off.  

“Batman, this is Black Canary.  Are you receiving?”

“Affirmative.” What now?

“Flash called.  Did you find Robin?”

“Affirmative.” Bruce frowned he would need to call Jim, but that could wait. Robin needed to get home.  Bruce considered the cuts and decided they could wait until they were back at the cave. 

“Thank goodness.  Flash was freaking out, which freaked out Kid Flash.  Is Robin okay?”

“Hnn.” Dick was still shaking, so Bruce unclipped his cape.

“Crap.  How is his shoulder doing?”

Batman paused in wrapping his cape around Robin.  His shoulder.  How would Black Canary know Robin had injured his shoulder? She not prophetic.   Dick looked uninterested in tuning into Bruce’s conversation.  His gaze was fixed on the light fixture above them.

“His shoulder?”

“Yeah, It’s not causing him too much trouble?  He said Agent A said it was fine but when I saw him earlier, it still looked like it was bothering him.  Superboy still feels horrible for dislocating it in training.”

“He’ll be fine.” Batman closed the line.  A rock settled in his gut. Robin had been injured before tonight and gone out anyway.  There hadn’t been training at the cave for days. Which meant Dick had been hiding the injury for a while.  Robin had been going out all week. Dick had deliberately put himself at risk, all week. “When did Superboy dislocate your shoulder?”

Dick’s head jerked to look at Batman.  “What?”

“You went out injured.” How could I have not noticed?   

“It’s fine.  I was handling it.”

“ Handling it? You call this handling it? You almost died . I found you lying bleeding on a rooftop. Had they been more interested in you... You could have been killed! Why didn’t you tell me that you hurt your shoulder during training?”  Bruce was staring at his ward not seeing him. Didn’t the boy understand how the night could have ended? Bruce was sick just thinking about it, about the way Dick had held on to him, the way he had put himself in danger just to try and save Bruce.  

“It was fine!  Not like you care about me anyway.” 

 Bruce felt like he had been slapped.  “What?... I ...You are not fine! And what do you mean--”

“Wait, the flash drive.” Robin stood up, Batman’s cape pooling at his feet. Dick made quick strides toward the door. “B, we can’t let them have the flash drive.”

“Stop.  Robin, where do you think you’re going?”

“Batman, we have to go after them.” Dick was halfway to the door. How the kid was even moving was beyond Bruce.

“No. You need to go back to the cave.  I’ll deal with it later.”

“No! No, you don’t get it.  This has to end, to be over.  I am sick of this.” Dick spat at Batman with same fury he had earlier.  

“Sick of what?”  

“This!” Dick made a sweeping motion between them. “Us. All of it.”

Bruce felt something in his chest break.  Here it was. The moment he had been working so hard to avoid.  Dick had realized that he deserved better than Bruce could give.  But he was Batman and he could take it.

“I am so sick of this, fighting,  lying, letting you down. But I don’t know how.  Every time I try it just gets worse. I just want to stop this.  I can’t have you looking at me like… like a failure. I don’t want anyone else to die.  How could you ask me that? How could you tell me to let you go?” Dick was red in the face as he shouted. 

Bruce’s mouth felt dry.  

“I am tired of having to see you be disappointed.  I know this is my fault alright? So I am ending this.  I’m gonna get that flash drive back even if it kills me.”  Dick turned on his heal and pushed past the door.  

Bruce stood rooted to the ground for far too long.  In reality it was probably only six seconds but it felt like years. Bruce’s head was spinning. Possibly in part due to the gas still working its way through his system.  How could Dick think that? How had he misread the boy so badly.  Disappointed? No. Never.   Yet somehow that is what Dick had heard.  

“Wait! Robin!” Batman started for the door, but the room tilted.  Bruce willed his body to react the way he wanted, willed his feet to keep moving.  “Robin, that's not what… Please come back, we can do this together!” 

By the time he reached the hall Dick was gone.  

Dick was seething.  He threw open a heavy metal service door and was back out in the open air.  The trek back to the roof had done nothing to clear his head. He felt another wave of fury when he found it empty.  The aches in his body were numbed by his anger and adrenaline. However sharp pain still lanced across his shoulders and chest every few steps as he made his way across the roof.  He was being stupid and irresponsible. If he ran into even the Condiment King he would likely lose, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.  

Bruce didn’t care.  Bruce didn’t care that he had asked Dick to murder the only family he had left.  He didn’t care that he had not only asked for Dick to break the vow, but he had asked for him to kill Bruce.  He didn’t care what watching him fall would do to Dick. So Dick wouldn’t care about what happened to himself either.  It would serve Bruce right. Robin, the first partner to the Justice League, killed from stubbornness. Yeah, that would make a great headline.  Maybe Clark could write it, just to rub it in Bruce’s face. 

The roof held no clue as to where the men had gone.  The only evidence Penguin, Falcone and Black Mask had been there at all was some blood,-- probably his own-- Batman’s grappling hook, and the contents of his belt still strewn about.  He paused only to grab the grappling gun and he was off. 

His swing was clumsy.  His landing was rough. His father would have made him muck out the elephants for a month for flying so injured. Robin kept going anyway. Two landings then three, four, five.  It was on the sixth his legs buckled. 

Dick landed hard on the sawdust floor of the big top.  

“Mom? Dad?” He could see them lying ahead of him, blood spreading out under their bodies. Dick didn’t remember the climb down to the ground.  The sawdust was wet. He looked down and realized what he was sitting in. 

“Aunt Karla?” She didn’t answer either.  None of them moved. His Uncle was still screaming, but lay still. 

Dick pushed himself up off the ground, pushing the memory back.  The flash drive.  Focus Grayson. The flash drive .

He would check every known hideout anywhere with a connection to the gangs.  He would leave no stone unturned. The Iceberg Lounge would be a good starting point.  Someone there would know something. Penguin’s club was a cesspool of intel, if you knew who to ask.  Robin leapt to the next roof. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Batman’s silhouette falling. He blinked it way.  

 His comm buzzed to life, crackling in his ear. He wanted to yank it out.  To throw it away.  

“Look, I know you’re mad.  I’m sorry. Please don’t go after them right now.  You’re hurt… I… Dick I can’t lose you.” Bruce’s voice was shaking just slightly.  Dick could only tell from years of exposure to the man. To the untrained ear, he would have sounded stoic. It was the slight waver in the man’s voice that stopped him from throwing the earpiece away. 

Dick swung onto a fire escape, cloaked in the shadow of two buildings, and stilled.  

“I wasn’t disappointed, I was scared, and jealous of the team..”

Jealous?  Why would B be jealous, the team wasn’t as cool as working with Batman. 

 “I didn’t want you to leave like Roy left.” Bruce sighed. 

What? Why would Bruce think that?  Bruce wasn’t Oliver. Batman and Robin had always worked based on trust, a partnership.  Oliver and Roy had never built that same trust, Green Arrow and his sidekick Speedy. But then that had been the problem  Roy didn’t want to be a sidekick.  

 “I was upset you lied about Penguin, but it was because I didn’t understand why …I still don’t.”

Dick felt sick.  He should have never promised to keep his injured shoulder from Bruce and Alfred.  If he hadn’t maybe the case wouldn’t have gotten this out of hand. Wally would have never asked him to hide it if he had known what the promise would lead to.  None of this would have happened. Tattoo wouldn’t have been killed. And that meant none of the others would have died. Dick’s hands felt bloody again.  

“Dick you don’t have to carry this by yourself.  It’s not your fault they died...”

Dick felt salt mix with a small cut on his chin, and quickly wiped away his tears.  Had he spoken aloud?

“It wasn’t your fault when your family died and it wasn’t your fault that Tattoo, Rusty or any of them died.  It’s only the people who killed them’s fault. I’m sorry I had to ask you to let go. It wasn’t fair, but I was scared.  I thought you were going to die because of me…”

Bruce was quiet for a long moment.  Dick sat staring at the chipping paint on the building next to him, unseeing.  Bruce was never scared. No, that…Batman didn’t get scared. Did he?

“It’s ok to ask for help.  We can call Superman, the League, anyone you want.  Just please, don’t go injured.”

Dick’s eyes grew wide.  Batman never called the League to Gotham.  Not when Joker broke out, not when Two-Face attacked.  Gotham was a meta free zone.  

“Dick. Please. Just say something? Anything.”

Dick sank back further into the shadows between the buildings.  The darkness was a comfort, something Batman had taught him not to fear.  And Robin didn’t. Darkness and shadows meant safety. They meant Batman. They meant help, protection.  Dick could hear in Bruce’s voice that he meant it. He really would call the League. He had to admit that sounded good.  To let someone else take over. To go home.  

“Okay.”

“10-20?”

Dick looked around, he hadn’t made it very far in the past twelve minutes.  He didn’t really recognize the building he was next to, but that was ok. Batman could find him. Bruce always found him.  Dick’s eyes slid shut. 

“Robin?”

Dick woke with a jolt.  His face was pressed against a grimy hand railing. He couldn’t believe he had nodded off. “B?”

“Yeah, where are you, Chum?”

“Oh.” Where was he? Right he had been going to the Iceberg Lounge to find Penguin. “I’m on circuit four.”

There was a hum of acknowledgement, and then silence.  The sounds of the city washed over him, distant honking, sirens, music played too loud from a party down the way, laughter and shouting.  Eventually the low growl of the Batmobile rumbled out underneath the fire escape.   

“Robin?” Batman was slightly unsteady on his feet as he exited the Batmobile, and ran to the ladder.  

Dick watched as Bruce jumped and missed twice before catching the bottom rung to pull the ladder down. 

“Let's get you home.” Bruce was once again trying to wrap his cape around him. 

“No, I told you we have to get the flash drive.”

“We’re both in no shape to be going after it right now.  We need to regroup.”

“Regroup? No, this drive is too important.  B, call back up if you want, but I can’t go back to the cave now.”

Bruce sighed. “Car, now.”

“I just said I wasn’t going back.”

“It's cold.  We can sit in the car while I call the League.”

The car was indeed warm.   When Bruce settled into the driver’s side, he did not pull away as Dick had half expected him to, but instead began calling Superman.  As the computer transmitted the call, Bruce pulled off a gauntlet and pulled a bag of saline out of one of the medical consuls.

“Batman?” Clark sounded half asleep on the line.

“How soon can you be in Gotham?”

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

Bruce glanced over at Dick, “Robin and I need back up.  Are you available?”

“I need to recharge, but yeah give me twenty.  Are you hurt?”

“I’ve been exposed to a toxin, and Robin has some serious injur--”

“I’m fine.” Dick didn’t want Uncle Clark worrying to much.

“What happened?” Dick’s interruption hadn’t reassured the alien at all.

“I’ll explain when you get here.  Sending you our coordinates now. Do you know who is on duty tonight?”

“Hal.  Ok, I’ve got them.  Do you want me to bring him with me?”

“No. No.  I’ll call Flash, he is up anyway.” Batman ended the call.  He was still fumbling with the IV. Dick watched him miss vein after vein.

“Batman! Thank goodness.  I was getting really worried, but Canary said you found Robin and he was hurt--”

“Flash, I am sending you my coordinates.  Just you though. Don’t bring Kid Flash.”

In less than thirty seconds, there was a bright red blur tapping on the driver’s side window.  Barry slid into the back seat of the Batmobile the second the door was unlocked. He took in the two in front of him then took the IV from Bruce and cleanly inserted it into the man’s arm.  

He then pulled out a granola bar, unwrapped it and handed it to Robin.  “Toxin?”

“Yes.” Batman, grunted.

“Do you have an antidote?”

“No, I don’t know what I was hit with.  Maybe just a high grade sedative.” 

Flash was already rummaging around the Batmobile pulling out a portable tox screening kit. Bruce handed over his arm once more without question. Robin watched it all with quiet disinterest.  He knew Bruce was just waiting for Superman, but the waiting was killing him. He just wanted this night to be over.

“Robin?  Robin?”

Dick was pulled out of his thoughts as Barry turned to look him over. 

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m ok…” Dick trailed off seeing Bruce's glare. The silent standoff was finally broken by the arrival of Clark.

“Batman! What is going on? What the… Are those bullet wounds?” Superman’s eyes were wide as saucers as he joined Flash in the back of the Batmobile.  The man was obviously looking over Dick’s wounds past what the human eye could see. Clark’s face paled when his eyes reached Dick’s shoulders. “Robin, what happened to your arm?”

Chapter Text

Eleven: Themis

Sometimes Fate calls and we must shoulder it

Other times Justice prevails and we simply shrug

Superman’s eyes narrowed as he scanned Robin’s shoulder through the back of the passenger seat.  

“How bad is it?”  Bruce swiveled his chair around to face the back of the Batmobile, his expression completely business, even as his knees were crammed into the Flash’s.

“Well, you have a couple of tendons that have detached.  You’ll need surgery to fix it. We could see if Hal could call a Blue? They might be able to help speed up the healing...What happened?”  Clark’s whole body was leaning forward as if he could somehow heal Dick himself through proximity. Dick refused to turn to face the man. He didn’t think he could handle seeing the concern in his eyes.  Some days he was glad for B’s mask. It was easier not to feel guilty when you couldn’t see the pain.

“Robin decided to fight gravity.”  Batman was pulling a tablet out and typing.

“I’m sorry? What?” Flash leaned around Batman to look at Robin. “What does that mean?”

“We fell off a building and I caught us.” Dick mumbled.  He could feel waves of sympathy emanating from the back of the Batmobile.  “I’m sorry.  I should have been listening for you, bud.  How are you feeling?”

“You can’t listen all the time, Uncle Clark.”

“No, but I should when I know you’re out.”

“This isn’t your fault, Clark.  Now if you don’t mind, I would like to get this over with so Dick will get treated.”  

Dick could almost hear Bruce’s eye roll, but he refused to budge, this was more important this his shoulder.  Bruce flipped the tablet around so Barry and Clark could see it.  “I need you two to check these locations for these men. I don’t care what other crimes you see, you only get them.  Am I clear?”  After a brief moment of hesitation from Clark both were nodding.  “Good, once you have them bring them to GPD’s downtown headquarters.  Robin and I will be there waiting for you.”

After a brief stare down between Superman and Batman, the Flash and Superman were off.  Bruce sighed after the doors of the Batmoblie clicked shut, and turned his seat once more to face forward.  

“When this is over, we need to talk.  You know that right?” Bruce sounded so tired.  

“Yeah.”  Dick fixed his eyes on a bug smashed into the windshield. “Do you think my shoulder will…”  

Dick felt a light pressure on his knee.  He looked down and saw Bruce’s hand. “I’ll take care of it.  Even if we have to work with the Lanterns, I promise you’ll be ok.  Clark didn’t think it was irreparable.”

Dick’s eyes burned.  Bruce gave him a moment to collect himself, before pulling away.  The engine roared to life and they made their way to the precinct.  On the way, Bruce sent a voice message to Jim, letting him know that Dick was fine.  He had been vague, probably waiting to see how apparent Robin’s injuries would be, so he could come up with a plausible cover story.  He had then called Leslie, who was less than happy to be woken up, and definitely upset when she heard about needed to repair tendons in Dick’s shoulder.

“What the hell is wrong with you?  No, don’t answer that. You are certifiably insane, but in this City that’s not enough to get you off the street.”

“It wasn’t B’s fault, Doc.”  Dick was chewing his lip as he listened to her attack on Bruce.  

“It’s ok, Chum.  Thank you, Leslie.  We will see you in the morning.”

Bruce reached over and pulled Dick’s lip out from between his teeth. By the time they arrived at the precinct, Bruce not only booked surgery for Dick, but had called his school and left a voicemail that Dick would be out for several weeks, and left a message for his assistant that he wouldn’t be in the office for a while either.  Dick marveled at all Bruce could do while driving, then realized the Batmobile was on autodrive.  

The Batmobile pulled to a stop, but Batman made no move to get out. 

“B? Is the gas still bothering you?”

Bruce waved off Dick’s concern and activated his comm.  

“This is Hal.”

“Green Lantern…”

“Oh, Bats to what do I owe the displeasure?” Hal’s voice was far too chipper for someone on monitor duty.  

“Blue’s have healing abilities, correct?”

“Err… Yeah, they do...Are you ok?”

“How quickly can you get one here?”

“I mean, it can take awhile for a request to go through for a non-corps member. There aren’t many of them in the corp. But really are you ok?”

“Well, put in a request…”

“Batman. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“... is Robin ok?” Hal’s voice was oddly small.  

“No, but he’s not dying.  You will get a Blue Lantern.” Bruce closed the line, and threw his door open as if he were physically fleeing the conversation.  

Robin tapped the redial.

“Jeez louise, I’m working on it.”

“It’s not that bad, GL.”

“Robin?” Hal swore colorfully. “What is going on?”

“I messed up my shoulder, and well, Superman thinks a Blue will help it heal better soo…Thanks.”

“Well, that’s just--”

Robin closed the line and followed Bruce into the station, careful to keep his arm tucked closely to him.  

By the time Batman had scared the on duty sergeant into loaning them a couple of interrogation rooms and cells, Flash had dropped off Carmine Falcone.  Batman ordered Robin to stay in the observing room during the interrogation. So Dick found himself sitting on a cold metal table looking through a two-way mirror as Batman stood towering above a seated Falcone.  

The man might have been one of the most powerful men in Gotham, but in a dark room with Batman literally breathing down your neck, well that would freak out anyone.  Robin would normally insist on being in the room with Batman, but tonight he had been silenced by a stony glare. And Dick had to admit, it would be scary not to see Robin.  Especially when the last time anyone had seen him was tumbling over the side of a building.  Batman with a hurt Robin was terrifying, but Batman with a possibly dead Robin...  Dick didn’t think Gotham would ever recover if that day came.  

While Batman and Falcone continued their battle of wills, Dick hacked into the GPD’s surveillance.  He wanted to know when the others arrived. He also tapped into the intercom system so he could listen to what was being said.  The video and sound wouldn’t quite be insync with each other, as they were coming from completely separate sources, but it was close enough.  Dick glanced back up, Batman hadn’t so much as twiched.

Bruce was good.  He didn’t even need to speak and the man cracked. 

“I don’t have it ok! Penguin and Sionis got the slip on me! And I never touched your bird. So will you let me go now?”  The man was sweating. Bruce swept from the room. The only sound he left in his wake was a slight swish of his cape.  Dick frowned, Bruce hadn’t even tried to get what was on the flash drive from him. But then, maybe Batman didn’t want to admit that they didn’t already know what was on it.  

The next to arrive was Superman, with a petrified Penguin. Robin frowned, he didn’t understand why Penguin was so scared of Superman.  Then his spotted what was in Clark’s left hand, a bloodstained umbrella. The blood was dry, so it definitely wasn’t Penguin’s, and that wasn’t Clark’s style.  Then it hit him, the blood was probably his own. Oh, that would do it.  

Clark placed Oswald in an adjoining room with slightly more force than necessary.  

Flash wasn’t far behind, he deposited Black Mask in a holding cell.  Sionis looked a bit green.  

“Is this what you’re looking for Batman?” Clark held the flashdrive between his index finger and thumb.  It looked so small and insignificant.  

“Hrnn.” Bruce held out his hand for the drive and Clark dropped it into his palm. Batman tucked it into his belt.  

“So… What do you want to do with them?” Flash jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Sionis, who by the looks of it was still having a hard time getting his stomach to settle down after traveling faster than sound. 

“Leave them.  Gordon can charge them with something later.  I would like to get home. Thank you for your assistance.”

Flash grinned. “No problem, let me know how Robin’s doing though. Yeah? Kid is probably going nuts, so I should head back.” And he was gone, the only sign he left was a slight static serge on the speakers.  

Dick frowned. Wally must have been around when Batman called for backup.  

“If you don’t mind, I would like to join you at the cave.” Clark had a prominent crease between his eyebrows. 

Batman’s response was garbled so Dick didn’t catch it.  But both men turned and headed to the room he was in. Dick quickly disconnected from the GPD’s systems leaving no sign he had ever interfered.  By the time he was powering down the computer Batman opened the door.

“Lets go.”

The ride back to the cave was quiet.  Superman had flown ahead, so as not to cram in the backseat. Normally Robin wouldn’t mind giving the passenger side up for Clark, but the front was more comfortable and all of his injuries were screaming for attention.  The walk back to the Batmobile alone had reopened some of his cuts and fresh blood had begun to stain his uniform once more.  

Every few moments Bruce would steal glances at him.  Dick pretended not to notice.  

“Did the tox screen ever say what was in that gas?” Dick need something to think about other than the burning of bullet gazes,  deep bruises forming or the tingling feeling like a million small knives waging war in his shoulder.  

“Yes, it was a mix halothane and FBS.  I’ll make an antidote letter to minimize the effects if we come across it again.”

“FBS?” Dick didn’t know if it was the pain but he couldn’t even guess what that was.  

“An old Russian cold war creation. Nasty side effects.  It's probably why I was having a hard time until I got fluids.” 

“Oh. Did I know that?”

“No.  The League of Assassins uses it sometimes, but I have never seen anyone else use it.  The Russians don’t even use it anymore, too likely to kill the target. And as it’s meant to knock you out, it's not particularly useful unless you don’t care if the victim dies.”

“Wonder why Penguin had it?”

“Let’s leave that for another night.” 

Clark was already changed and standing in the medical bay pulling out various equipment by the time they pulled in.  

“B?”

Bruce had already gotten out and was forced to lean down to see Dick.  

“I’m really sorry.  I didn’t mean… I’m just sorry.”

“I forgive you, but I would still like an explanation.  Come on let's get you treated and to bed. You’re gonna need a lot of rest.”

Clark and Bruce worked without speaking-- cleaning, stitching and bandaging each and every cut Dick had accumulated.  Clark had eventually just cut off his tunic instead of trying to get Dick to maneuver his arm out of it. Bruce had to sit down when he saw the black and purple swollen mess that had once been a joint.  Clark swallowed and carefully laid Dick down and elevated his arm. Dick only cried a little.  

Bruce quickly pulled himself together. He was soon setting an ice pack on Dick’s shoulder.  

“Chum, you should try and sleep if you can.  Leslie is going to be here in an hour and a half.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Clark cleared his throat. “Um… I would like to know what happened… I mean if your up to it, kiddo?”

“I guess.”

Clark was looking back and forth between the two. Dick was beginning to suspect the  crease between his eyes had become a permanent fixture on Clarks face.

“I don’t know where to start…” Dick was having a hard time looking at Bruce.

“How about the beginning?”

And so Dick talked.  Bruce sat heavily on a stool next to his head, and Clark continued to clean small cuts and scrapes.  Both listened intently to the boy before them.  

“And then Penguin got my grappling gun, and knocked me off, which was when I called B and--”

“Knocked you off?” Bruce’s face had gone down right ashen.

“Umm… yeah.”

“The roof?” Bruce didn’t wait for Dick’s confirmation before turned to Clark. “Do you see any other internal injuries?”

Clark was once again staring him down.  It was a little unnerving to know he could see all of Dick’s organs and bones.  

“B. I told you that night that I had some bruises and a concussion.”

“Yeah, but you neglected to mention you feel off a building!  You of all people know how bad that can be!” Dick winced, and Bruce deflated. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that. I just… Hell, Dick. You’re really scaring me.  I’m sorry I said that.”

“Well other then some hairline fractures on your hips and femurs you look ok.  Just some severe bruising. Nothing life threatening.” Clark paused and lowered his voice. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?  I mean I understand it can be hard to tell your dad things but… you have the whole League, Alfred. You can come to us with anything.  I am always there to be a buffer if it’s too hard to tell Bruce.”

Bruce looked shocked.  

“I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Clark sighed.  “Getting hurt happens to everyone.  Even when you’re not human.  Needing help is never going to be a disappointment. But not asking for help when you need it is.”

“I’m sorry.”  Dick looked so small, plastered in bandages and wrapped up.

Bruce shuffled forward on his stool. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.”

The rest of the tale finished with little interruption aside from a question or two for clarity. By the time he had finished, Clark had slumped into an empty chair and Bruce had put his head in his hands.  

“And then Bruce called you so…”

The cave was silent apart from the rustling of a hundred bats settling in for the day.  

“Master Bruce! What on earth is going on? I went to wake you and-- Master Dick! Good heavens!  What’s happened?”

“I’ll fill you in later Alfred.  Leslie should be here soon. Dick’s going to need surgery.”

“Of course.  I’ll bring down coffee. Shall I?  Master Dick, you shouldn’t eat, but I will bring you down some blankets and shall I fetch Zitka?”

“That sounds great. Thanks Alf.” So Bruce had kept his old stuffed Elephant after all.

Dick woke weighed down by a pile of blankets.  He didn’t want to open his eyes. He could just hear his mom and dad whispering-- likely sitting at the small table in the trailer. Dick smiled he could picture them, heads close together probably looking at some new sketch of his mother’s.  It would either be of some new bird they had seen last week in Italy or possibly a diagram outlining a new routine.  

The comfort of his cocoon of blankets couldn’t last. Unfortunately his nose was beginning to itch.  It was when he moved to scratch it that the illusion was broken. Pain shot across his chest and his eyes flew open.  The weight was a cast on his arm and the murmuring hadn’t been his parents.  

Bruce was at his side instantly.

“Dick are you ok?  What do you need?”

“I’m ok.  Just forgot for a second.”

The hospital was white and sterile.  He longed for his mother’s colorful quilts and the smell of cinnamon.  His father had dropped a jar of it when he was three and they had never been able to ride the trailer of the smell.  

“I’ll get you some water.” Dr. Thompson ducked out of the room.

“How long have I been out?”

“Just a couple of hours.  You should go back to sleep.  You need it.”

“So do you.  How long has it been?”

“I honestly don’t even know anymore.  Over 48 hours.”

“You can go home and sleep. I don’t mind.”

“I know.  But I do.” Bruce pulled the pleather armchair closer to Dick’s bed and all but collapsed into it.  “I can sleep just fine here, after you’ve gone back to sleep yourself… how are you feeling?”

“Traught.  Absolutely traught.”

“And that would be the opposite of?”

“Distraught.”

“Naturally.” Alfred appeared in the doorway holding a glass of water and a cup of coffee. 

“Thanks, Alf.” Dick said between sips through a straw.  

“You are most welcome.  Miss Kyle sends her best.  She was quite cross she was not well enough to come herself.”

“Oh, how is she?” Bruce sat up, eyes wide.  He had completely forgotten that his girlfriend had been convalescing injured at the manor.  

“Absolutely fine.  She has some bruised ribs and a few sprains.  Nothing a couple weeks rest can’t fix.”

Bruce sank back into his chair again.  

“Now, I have brought you both overnight bags, as I am sure I won’t be able to persuade you home to rest?” Alfred looked disapprovingly at Bruce. 

Bruce smirked into his coffee cup lid.

“Very well. Now if you will excuse me?  I have a four wheeler crash to stage and several other things to attend to.”

“Thanks Alf.  I don’t know what we would do without you.”

“I shudder to think.”

“Bruce?”

“Hmm?” Bruce’s eyes had fallen shut.

“Did you find out what was on the flash drive?”  Dick wanted the drive to make it all worth it somehow.  Wanted it to be so valuable that it would make all his mistakes seem small.  

“Yeah, I did.  It was a mix of intel on all the major crime families and gangs.  It looks like the last owner of Flonzie Florist, was working for some organization gathering intel on all the major players in Gotham.  The data was pretty heavily encrypted, so I will need you to double check that I haven’t missed anything--when your feeling better obviously-- but it looks like it’s from some group called Fos.”

“Fos?”

“It means light in Greek.”

“Was the intel good?”

“Some off it was new.  I turned over what was viable to Gordon.  It should put Falcone and Cobblepot away for a good while. Some others will get time but most of the intel on the False Facers was inadmissible.”

Dick frowned. So two men and low lying thugs would be in prison-- at least until the next prison break.  Dick thought bitterly. It didn’t feel like he had unearthed anything that was worth the death and destruction he had unleashed upon Gotham.  Maybe if he looked into this light business…

“Dick?”

Bruce was no longer looking tired. He was leaning forward and focused on his ward.

“Huh?”

“Have I ever told you about Atlas?”

Dick shook his head.  He remembered the mythical figure from one of his English classes, but he couldn’t recall a case report about anyone named or code-named Atlas.

“Well, Atlas is this titan right? And he-- in Greek mythos-- gets stuck holding up the sky, because the sky and earth if they ever met again it would probably kill everyone and destroy everything. So even though he is tired and carrying the heaviest burden there is, he holds it.”

Dick began chewing his lip, unsure where Bruce was going with this.

“Well there is this book that talks about this Titan that I read a long time ago.  I don’t remember now how exactly it goes, but two of the characters are talking about Atlas and one of them says something like-- what would you tell Atlas to do if you saw him bleeding and being crushed by the weight of the sky? And the other guy gets confused because what could you tell him right? But the thing is, he is holding this all by himself. So there is only one thing Atlas can do.  He can shrug.”

“Bruce, why are you telling me this?”

“Dick, it’s ok to shrug. You don’t have to be some Titan holding the whole sky up all alone.  It’s ok to let go.  We’re partners. I’m here to catch the weight.”

Dick’s eyes were stinging again.  He couldn’t quite make his tongue work to get what he wanted to say out. Dick didn’t know how to communicate how much the man sitting across from him meant to him.  But Bruce seemed to understand anyway. He just brushed back Dick’s hair and after a few minutes turned out the hospital light. Soon both Batman and Robin were sound asleep. 

Chapter Text

Epilogue:  Pallas 

Sure inside we know the sun always rises

But sometimes in the dark we have to be our own light

Dick was picking at his tie.  The car ride offered little to distract him from the discomfort of his suit.  Today would be his first day back at Mount Justice, and the fact that he had been forced to attend the opening of a new park was more than irritating.  Bruce had said it was important for people to see him at public functions. Really Bruce hadn’t wanted to attend alone.

The day was overly humid but Alfred kept the car cool enough. The ride through Gotham to the Zeta Tube was slow.  No one seemed to want to walk in the heat.   

“Make sure you take it easy today.”  Bruce glanced nervously at Dick.  

“Doc said I was good to go, B.  There’s nothing to worry about.”  

After three months, filled with physical therapy and an odd mix of alien treatments, Dick’s shoulder was almost as good as new.  Dick would always have slightly tighter muscles in one shoulder, but he figured the rest of him was flexible enough to compensate for that.  It would be fine; just another thing to get used to. He had been cleared a week ago to go back to the field but Bruce being a worrier had pushed back his first patrol and Dick for once had let him.  

Not because he was nervous himself, but he had noticed all the pinched glances and little ticks that meant Bruce was uncomfortable with something.  So Dick had waited an extra week, all the while, slowly proving to Bruce that he was ready. He walked on his hands for a whole day, did a complex trapeze routine when Bruce was doing his morning workout, and even taken to sliding down the banisters on his feet with socks on.  Alfred had told him off for that one, but that was more because the socks then the actual activity. 

Finally Bruce could come up with no excuses.  It was obvious Dick was craving the mask, and Bruce didn’t want to risk Dick sneaking out. Though Dick and him promised to be more open with each other.  So far it had gone well. Dick had yelled and shouted at Bruce the whole way home from his first day of physical therapy and Bruce had listened to every word.  When Bruce came home from patrol with a case he couldn’t crack. They sat down the next morning and talked it through. The Dynamic Duo may not have been back on the streets but they were back in sync.  

“Dick, I know I told you not to stay late tonight but if you want… I mean the team’s missed you.  Wallace has been asking about you non stop.”

“B. I will text you when I get there. Ok?”

“And every two hours.”

Dick sighed, “B, I don’t think Red Tornado has any other siblings that are going to break into the cave.”

“Hrnn…”

“Ok fine.  Every two hours.”

Dick found himself standing inside the smelly phone booth turned Zeta tube suddenly nervous .  It had been a whole three months of not seeing his friends.  Sure he and Wally had texted and Artemis, he saw at school--not that she knew that-- but other then that it had been radio silence.  Dick took a deep breath and punched in the cave’s code.  

“Recognized Robin B01”

The wind was knocked out of Dick. A mass of yellow was wrapped around his middle and emanating a high pitched buzzing sound.  

“Wally.  Ummm you are going to bruise a rib.”

“Iamsogladyou’reback.Imissedyousomuch.Howareyoufeeling?OhcrapdidIhurtyou?” The speedster was suddenly across the room as if his proximity alone would injure his best friend. 

“It’s fine, just let me text B.”

Wally stayed where he was across from the zeta tube, all excitement seemed to have vanished.

“Rob?”

Dick looked up, message sent.  Wally was biting his lip. Dick’s stomach dropped did Wally not want to be friends now? Had three months been too long a silence? “Wally? What's wrong?”

“I’m really sorry.”

Dick blanched.  

“I know I really messed up and if you don’t want to be friends like we were… I understand.  But I promise, as your teammate I will never put you in a position like that again.”

Dick’s mouth was opening and closing. He had not expected this. “Wally. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I still want to be friends...Don’t you?”

“What? Of course I do. I just... It’s my fault.”

“Good.  That settles it. Best Friends.” Dick’s eyes narrowed.  “Wait. Do you think I’m mad about the shoulder?”

“Well, yeah. Batman said it had permanent muscle damage and if… If I hadn’t made you promise not to tell him…” Wally’s eyes turned glassy.  

“Wooh wooh wooh. Ok, my shoulder is fine.  I am still ten times more flexible in that joint then B. And I made a lot of dumb choices, and B made a lot of assumptions and you asked me a favor and Conner almost pulled my arm off, and I got shot by some goons and Batman got gassed and fell off a building. So really if you’re going to blame yourself you gotta blame me first and the most and then everyone else too.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“Exactly.  That’s crazy.” Dick smiled.  

“I missed you.”

“Missed you too.  B said I could stay late.” 

That was all it took.  Wally was talking a mile a minute.  Dick had so much to catch up on. M’gann had made seven new kinds of cookies, Kadur had short circuited Red Tornado by accident with his water bearers, Artemis had been annoying and Conner had actually smiled.  They made it to the living area before the others swarmed them.  

Dick was happier than he had been in months. 

“Robin?” Superboy was standing in the doorway looking nervous.  

“Hey, Conner. How are you?” Dick really didn’t want to go through the whole blame conversation again.

“I’m ok. How’s the shoulder?”

Dick smirked. 

“This is a terrible idea.” Wally was vibrating as he paced next to the mats by the wall of the training room

“I agree. Robin you really shouldn’t be pushing yourself so far so soon.” Kaldur was standing near the door as if he was expecting needing to escape quickly. 

“Kaldur, don’t be a spoilsport.  If Robin thinks he can do it, he can.” Artemis stood with her arms crossed. Only her slightly pursed lips gave clue to her nervousness.

M’gann was holding her hands over her face, one eye peeking out from between her fingers.  

“Rob are you sure about this? You just got back?”  Wally grabbed Dick’s cellphone his thumb hovering over Bruce’s number.  Just in case. 

Dick ignored them all.  This was for him and Conner. “Ok, SB? So this time I’ll hold on to you, and let go myself. Sound good?”

“Yeah. Lets do this.” Conner’s fists were opening and closing slowly, his eyes trained on Robin.  He was determined to get it right. 

“Ready?” Dick was backing up to the far corner of the training room.

“One”  Conner took a deep breath.

“Two”  Dick was running full out.

“Three!” Robin was soaring.