Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dick doesn’t notice it, at first. He doesn’t realize how sometimes he’d lean into one of his brothers' touch or how he’d chase after their warmth once they left. He never realized how desperate he was for their physical affection. Sure, he was used to it from the Circus, but after years of surviving on Bruce’s rare hugs, he thought he had grown out of it. (He hoped he would have grown out of it.) 

But sometimes, sometimes it hurts too much. There’s an ache in his chest, and it feels like his blood is so cold that it’s not even running anymore. And there’s a difference, Dick thinks, with the fact that his family doesn’t like physical affection and the fact that they just don’t like giving it to him . Because he has seen them with others, Jason with Roy and Kory, Tim with Connor, Cass and Stephanie. (Bruce reaching out for Jason or tucking Tim in so he sleeps or a hand on Damian’s shoulder after a night of patrol). Duke and Damian are the only ones to really accept his affection, and even then, it’s far and few. Heck, Damian always complains when he touches him, and he knows that some of it is fake, it’s just hard to keep doing it when he’s constantly pushed away. Stephanie would give him a hug, but she’s busy with the Birds of Prey. He knows they all have reasons to dislike physical affection, but if his family can give it to others why can’t they give it to him? And he tries, desperately, to convince himself that his family does care about him because he knows deep down that they must care for him. I mean, why else put up with him, right? 

Yet it’s hard, it’s so so difficult to convince himself of it sometimes. He watches his brothers interact with their friends, with a sick sort of jealousy, something that infects him like a parasite and never leaves him. As if his body knows that he is unloved or just unloveable. He feels a coldness within him, a constant reminder of his failings because maybe if he was better, his family would give him a hug . And maybe he’s taking it too far, looking into things too much, but after being abandoned (kicked out, thrown away, replaced over and over and over again), he can’t help it. He’s seen the patterns, known that he doesn’t have a place in this family. The lack of physical affection is just…a reminder of it. So he buries it in the depth of his bones where skeletons lay and where no one will ever find it. If he wasn’t so needy, then maybe they wouldn’t mind giving him a hug once in a while. Dick knows his family hates it when he hugs them or ruffles their hair or gives them any physical affection (even if they allow it from others). He knows that it brings bad memories or they’re just not used to it, but sometimes all he really wants is a hug.

(He remembers nights on the street when all he’d want was a hug from Bruce, from his Dad, the same man who threw him away.)

It’s only until a patrol night where he was injured in front of Jason does he realize how he can fix his issue of being touched starved. 

He made a stupid mistake and was shot in the shoulder. It wasn’t anything severe, but it was going to be annoying for a while. And it hurt, of course. Jason brought Dick to one of his safe houses nearby, which was surprising because Jason still likes keeping his safe house locations secret. He loved his little brother, but Jason can be a drama queen sometimes.

“Are you getting slow in your old age, Nightwing? That was embarrassing to watch.” Jason smirks.

“Yeah, yeah laugh it up, little wing. I can still put you on your ass.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night. Now sit down. You look like you’re going to fall over.” 

Dick rolls his eyes but does sit on the couch as Jason grabs medical supplies from a cabinet. “I was shot in the shoulder, not my leg.”

“Same difference.”

Dick and Jason sit in a peaceful silence as Jason patches up his shoulder. Dick starts humming quietly and tries to avoid wincing as his little brother stitches him up. Dick doesn’t notice Jason’s worried glances or how he’d look at the bullet wound like it personally offended him somehow. He just keeps humming.

“Try not to get shot next time I see you.” Jason says as he squeezes Dick’s hand.

And it’s only at that moment does Dick realize that Jason was holding his hand. Jason. was. holding. his. hand. Jason was giving him physical affection without Dick asking . He didn’t even notice when Jason stopped stitching his wound to grab his hand. Dick doesn’t pull away, a little scared that this moment would end too quickly and he’d go back to feeling cold. 

“Thanks for patching me up,” says Dick while giving Jason a bright but small smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I just don’t want B on my ass about how I let his Golden Boy get hurt.” Jason waves him off.

“Would you…want to watch a movie?” Dick asks hesitantly.

He watches as Jason considers his offer. Normally, Jason would instantly refuse, and Dick is surprised that Jason is considering it at all. Sure, they’re long past Jason’s constant attempts at killing him or Bruce or Tim, but even then, Jason makes it clear that they’re not a family, that he doesn’t care. 

“I’m not watching a movie with you just because you’re injured…but maybe next time.” Jason whispers the last part.

Before Dick can respond, Jason gets up and walks towards the door and Dock mourns the loss of his touch, “You can crash here for a while, but I expect you to be gone soon. I’ll probably have to blow this place up now that your presence has infected it.”

Ah, now there’s his murderous brother that he knows and loves.

“Bye, Nightwing.” And then Jason is gone as if he was never there in the first place.

Dick stares at his hand, the one Jason was holding, when it hits him. He was injured, and Jason showed that he cared. His mind runs through every single time he was injured and his family’s reaction. When Dick was injured fighting Poison Ivy, Tim would find him and give him a quick hug. When a random mugger got in a lucky punch, Damian would scold him but would cozy himself up next to Dick and state, “You’re better than this Grayson. Stop being foolish.” When Dick last was kidnapped and returned with broken bones, Bruce had come to his bedroom that night and gave him a forehead kiss.

When Dick is physically injured, his family shows that they care about him, that they love him. Fuck , Dick thinks, suddenly (and concerningly) giddy with this realization. And maybe, it’s unhealthy, perhaps he shouldn’t do it…but if he suddenly becomes more frequently injured, well, then, maybe he’s just becoming slow in his “old” age, right?

He’s patrolling with Tim in Gotham after chasing a drug cartel from Bludhaven who thought that they could escape in Bludhaven’s sister city. They're trying not to start a gang war, so they have decided to simply try to force the small-time drug lord back into bludhaven where Dick can arrest him easily. 

As they’re fighting multiple goons, Dick sees one coming from behind him. He knows he can doge, but he’s also perfectly in Tim’s line of vision. (And it has been a really long time since he has last received a hug from someone. And if he’s being more truthful, it’s been an even longer time since he was last hugged by Tim . Things are definitely better between them now, but it’s never been the same as it was before Damian.) He takes the hit. Unfortunately, that leaves him open for the other henchmen to land a couple hits in too. He sees Red Robin run towards him, and take out two of the men that were on him. They quickly finish up the fight and arrest the rest of the people remaining. The drug lord wasn’t there, but Dick assumes that he’s probably running back to bludhaven as he speaks.

“Thanks for the assist, Red Robin.” Dick beams at him.

“No problem, N.” 

But Dick notices Tim’s worried glance. They ride back towards the Batcave in silence. Once they get there, Tim immediately pulls him aside and offers him an ice pack for the bruise Dick can feel forming on his face.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks.

“Of course, why are you asking?” Dick internally prays that Tim isn’t on to him.

“You could’ve dodged that punch. The only reason I can think of why you didn’t is because you’re worn out or not eating well or-“

Dick stops Tim before he can go ramble on, “I’m fine, Tim. It’s just been a rough couple of weeks, I promise. The guy just got a lucky hit in.”

Tim looks skeptical, but no matter how nosy Tim is, Dick knows he won’t look into it. Especially because he can see how little sleep Tim has been getting, and when Tim’s tired he’s too focused on cases to care about anything else And after all, Dick is the big brother, there’s no reason to doubt him, and it was just a small punch anyways. No biggie.

“Alright just don’t go pulling a Bruce.” That startles a laugh out of Dick and gets Tim sporting a smile too.

“No promises.” Dick grins cheekily.

Tim sighs, but Dick smiles as Tim gives him a small hug. Dick barely has a chance to register Tim’s arms wrapping around him before they’re gone, but they leave Dick with a satisfied feeling. (He wishes it was longer, that he could slump into his brother's arms, but he’ll take what he can get.) Dick quickly ruffles Tim’s hair, knowing that with Dick being punched in the face, Tim won’t swat his hand away. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Tim.”

The cold settles back into his bones, but it’s okay, he knows how to chase it away now. (And if that leaves him with more and more bruises, well, people have always found him prettier when he’s broken.)

This time, it’s accidental.

He’s out with Damian as his civilian persona on a Tuesday. Dick picked him up from school, and after much bugging, he finally convinced Damian to get ice cream with him. Dick was singing along to his Disney playlist because it was absolutely criminal that Damian didn’t grow up with Disney, so of course, Dick had to properly enlighten him (Much to Damian’s disdain. He threw a fit when he watched Cinderella and complained about the animal abuse.) 

The traffic light turns green, and as he drives, a car crashes into them from the right. He instinctively tightens his hold on the wheel as their car turns over in the air. His head bangs against the back of his seat, and he groans in pain. The world is spinning, and his vision blurs. He blinks the stars out of his eyes as he realizes that he’s hanging upside down, the seat belt keeping him attached to the seat. He brings his hand up to touch his head, and when he pulls his fingers away, there’s blood on his hands. 

Panic seized him, as he glanced behind him to check on Damian. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Dick thinks as he notices that Damian is no long in the car. Before he spirals, wondering if Damain was thrown out of the fucking window , he feels someone grabbing at him. He turns to the side to find Damian reaching through the broken window to help Dick come out. Damian must’ve gotten out of the car while Dick’s world was spinning. From what Dick can tell, Damian looks mostly uninjured aside from some scrapes and newly forming bruises. 

“Damian? You gud’?” Dick slurs. Yikes, he must be more injured than he thought.

“I’m fine, Grayson. I should be asking you that. You seemed to take most of the damage,” Damian says as he wrangles Dick out of the car.

He can hear sirens in the distance, and his head is throbbing. Damian gently guides Dick away from the car and helps him sit down on a sidewalk. He feels guilty for making his little brother take care of him, but he’s always extremely grateful. (Of course, he doesn't expect Damian to just leave him in his completely totaled car, but he can still be thankful.) He watches as Damian gets up and starts heading towards their damaged car.

“Damian, where are you going?” Damian completely ignores him. His little brothers are so nice.

“Watch where you’re driving, you absolute buffoon. Are you so blind to the point where you can’t see that a car is in front of you?! Or are you just a complete moron who doesn't know that red means stop?! ” Damian yells at the poor woman who was driving the car that crashed into them.

Dick has to diffuse this situation now.

“Do you know who I am? I’m Damian Wayne, the son of Bruce Wayne, and you just drove your speeding car into ours, resulting in my eldest brother suffering from a head injury . I’m sure my father won’t hesitate to put you in your place-”

Dick quickly gets up, grabs Damians shoulder, and pulls Damian into his chest. He can’t help but feel sympathy for the woman. She looks like she’s seconds away from crying (those are definitely tears that are already streaming down her face, but Dick doesn't comment on them.) Her face is also incredibly pale. While Dick does pity her, he focuses more on the warmth in his chest as he hears Damian defend him, but he also has to stop Damian from doing anything rash. 

“I’m sorry for my little brother. He can be very protective. Please excuse us.” Dick smiles gently at her, and she slowly nods her head like she’s not sure how to properly react.

Damian scoffs and glares at her, but he doesn't attack, so Dick takes it as a win. The moment Dick turns to Damian to scold him, his vision swims, and Damian quickly grabs him so that he doesn't fall. Dick has to lean some of his weight on Damian just to properly stand up.

“You’re an idiot, Richard. Sit down.” Damian demands, as he leads him back to the sidewalk.

“Sorry. Sorry. Ouch ow ow owww.” Dick whines as his head throbs and Damian gently smacks him on the shoulder.

Damian huffs, but he cuddles up to Dick’s side and gently places his hand on Dick’s knee. Dick almost coos at the blush spreading across Damian’s face. He wraps his arm around his little brother’s shoulders and brings him closer to his chest. Damian doesn't complain and allows Dick to rest his chin on his head. 

They sit together as the sirens become louder and louder, announcing the ambulances arrival. There’s a warm feeling growing in his chest, and while he’s so thankful for the warmth Damian is giving him, he’s also proud that Damian has come so far. Normally, Damian would be especially against physical affection in public, but here he is cuddled into Dick’s side. Dick is starting to pass out, and he thinks he says something because the next thing he knows, Damian stiffens against him and looks at Dick with his mouth agape, shock clearly etched into his face. Dick isn’t sure what he said, but he feels the need to fix it, so he says:

“I love you, Dami.” His Robin doesn't say it back, but Damian hums in acknowledgement and wraps his fingers around Dick’s hand, and Dick gets the message.

(He didn’t mean to get injured this time, but he’s happy that he did if it meant that he was able to have this moment with his little Robin.)

There was an Arkham breakout. Many villains escaped (Not the Joker, thankfully), and Dick was in charge of putting away Scarecrow. He entered a warehouse where Scarecrow was last reported to be seen and quickly put his rebreather on just in case Scarecrow developed a new strain of fear gas. He does not need anymore reasons to doubt his place in his messed up family, thank you very much. Dick silently explores the warehouse until he spots Scarecrow at a table with a lab set up. So this must be one of his hideouts, Dick thinks.

The thing about Scarecrow is that while his fear gas is a dangerous and sometimes lethal weapon, he isn’t much of a fighter. Dick can take him easily especially when he’s out of fear gas, and it doesn't look like Scarecrow has concocted any yet. 

“Boo!” Dick jokes as he makes his presence known.

“Nightwing.” Scarecrow hisses.

“Hello to you too. Now, I’m on a tight schedule, so let’s make this quick.” Dick doesn't give him time to respond before he leaps into action.

Dick lands a good kick to Scarecrow’s stomach, and then to Dick’s surprise, he pulls out a crowbar. Jeez, villains these days are so basic. While Scarecrow starts sloppily swinging at him, Dick simply doges. Now, he could easily disarm Scarecrow, but something makes him hesitate (and he knows why he is. But there’s no way he’d let Scarecrow hit him with a freaking crowbar just for a hug right?? That’s just… it’s stupid.) Dick, caught up in his own head, doesn't notice when Scarecrow gets so close to him. He doesn't mean to, really, he doesn't …but before he knows it, he just watches as Scarecrow swings the crow bar down on his arm. And he tells himself that he can’t dodge it, that he just wasn’t fast enough, but he knows the truth.

He grinds his teeth together, attempting to muffle a yell as Scarecrow breaks his arm. He hastily kicks the crowbar out of Scarecrow’s hands and sends another flying kick into his face, effectively knocking him out. Dick stares at his broken arm and realizes that his tendency to let himself get hurt for a hug might be going a little too far. 

(He remembers days where he’d constantly let others get good hits in, days where he was basically asking people to kill him. He could never kill himself, he wouldn’t do that to his family, but if someone else did it, then he wasn’t to blame. It wouldn’t be his fault, he’d die a hero and not as a coward. But those days are over, he knows they are over. What’s happening now… it isn't the same. He isn’t suicidal, he just wants a hug.)

“Nightwing, report.” B demands over comms.

“Apprehending Scarecrow as we speak, and I’ll make my way back to the cave soon. A little medical assistance is required.” And normally, he never asks for help, not really. He knows how to care for his own injuries, but if he can get a hug out of Bruce from this then it’ll be worth it.

“Return to the cave. Now .” 

“You got it, B.”

He calls GCPD and tells them the location of Scarecrow as he puts him in handcuffs. He makes his way back to the cave on his bike, and his arm makes him want to cry into his Dad’s chest. Once he arrives, he parks his bike next to the batmobile, and Bruce is at his side in an instant.

“What happened?” Bruce demands.

“Scarecrow and crowbar do not mix well.”

“Hrmm.” (He knows Bruce isn’t judging him, but he can’t help but be scared that Bruce is disappointed in him. It was a careless mistake, a mistake that Batman wouldn’t have made.)

He can also see how Bruce wants to lecture him,  how hurtful words are on the tip of his tongue. (He also sees how Bruce never knows that he is hurting Dick, but he always ends up doing it anyway.) But there must’ve been something in Dick’s expression that showed that he wasn’t in the mood because Bruce doesn't say a single thing.

Bruce leads him to their medical cots and starts prepping a scan of his arm and a cast. He has to maneuver his way out of the top half of his Nightwing suit so that Bruce can place the cast on. They mostly sit in silence as Bruce starts fixing his arm, and Dick becomes sleepy. He lets out a yawn as Bruce finishes up. He doesn't notice exactly when Bruce finishes, but next thing he knows, Bruce is placing down a set of pajamas next to him. B leaves the room, and Dick sluggishly changes into the clothes. He absolutely hates wearing casts. (Maybe he should’ve thought about that before he let himself get injured, but it’s too late now.)

Bruce knocks before he re-enters the room, “Hey, Chum. Will you stay for the night?”

Dick huffs because they both know that he is staying at the Manor tonight, but he nods anyway. Bruce walks up to him and places his arm around Dick’s shoulder. He sighs in contentment, loving the warmth that is seeping into him from his Dad. As Bruce gently leads him all the way to his bedroom, Dick hopes they don’t bump into Alfred because he knows that Alfred would make him eat food, and he’s not in the mood. Plus, he’s pretty tired.

And here’s the best part, as Dick snuggles under the blankets, Bruce places his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it gently. Then he leans down and places a kiss on Dick’s forehead. Dick smiles, happier than he has been in a while, as Bruce sits down on his bed beside him and starts running a hand through his hair. 

And Dick can’t find himself regretting being injured, not when his Dad’s gentle touch is luring him to sleep. Not when he hasn’t had this in a really long time. 

Because for the first time since ever , he’s…warm.

It became a habit for Dick to be too slow or careless or reckless. He would gain injuries more often and every single time, his family would give him physical affection. He had proof that they cared that he even fucking existed. And it was amazing, but he knew his new onslaught of injuries was suspicious. Tim became close to figuring him out one day.

-

Hey Dick, you know, statistics show that you’ve been obtaining 18% more injuries than normal.” Tim says it casually, but Dick can see the calculating look in his eyes.

He also wishes that Tim hadn’t said that in front of Bruce and Damian because he sees them both act preoccupied but so very obviously listening in.

“First of all Tim, do you do these calculations for all of the family because that would require an abnormal amount of stalking, even for you,” Dick delivers it as a joke and hopes it didn’t fall flat, “and I didn’t really notice? Besides I’ve been skipping patrol days recently to work on a case, so I haven’t gotten injured recently. I’m fine.”

Dick flashes a bright smile at Tim, and Tim falls for it. And it’s not like he’s lying, not really. He has been skipping patrols to work on a case. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Damian and Bruce relax. 

“Thanks for worrying about me, Timmy. I love you too.” Dick says very matter-of-factly.

Tim allows Dick to ruffle his hair, and Dick internally cheers.

-

He thinks he has gotten pretty good at hiding his new tendency for injuries. Other than that one incident, no one has said anything. (Sometimes he’d notice Damian or Bruce giving him worried looks when he’s not even injured, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.)

It was a normal patrol night, the only difference was that everyone was here, in Gotham. Cass, Duke, Jason, Steph, Tim, Damian. Duke was back at the manor, but he was on comms, so Dick counts it as a win. They were all here. It was a family patrol night, which was so very rare. There was some chat over comms, just a bunch of sibling bickering, and Dick was happy. His family was well and alive. It was a pretty decent night. 

(Dick knew he couldn’t afford to allow someone to get a hit in tonight. He knows Cass would see right through him, and he refuses to avoid her, so it’s best not to tempt fate and just act normal.)

 Other than stopping a few mugging from happening, the night was relatively peaceful. Cass decided to follow him on his patrol route. He loves playing rooftop tag with his sister or any of his siblings. After they finish one game they both sit on a rooftop together in silence.

“Anyone need help?” Dick asked over the comms, as he scooted closer to Cass, so their shoulders touched, and warmth flowed into him.

“Negative. Head back to the cave. It’s a quiet night.” Batman instructed. 

Dick nodded even though none of them could see him. 

Now, he didn’t even go looking for an injury this time, but it was his fault. He enjoys free falling and catching himself at the last minute when using his grappling hook. But when he pulls out his grappling hook mere seconds before he hits the ground, it doesn’t shoot out. 

There’s rarely ever an issue with their equipment, but he guesses it was just an unlucky night. He knows how to catch himself if his equipment malfunctions, but after months of just…not trying to stop himself from being injured, he hesitates. He doesn’t mean to, but he does. He quickly pushes against that hesitation and tries to save himself from hitting the ground. Dick has enough time to grab onto the ledge of someone’s balcony, but he has little time to slow his fall, so when he grabs on the railing, his right shoulder dislocates. Dick muffles a groan, but his comm was on, so everyone hears it.

Oh and also, Cass saw the whole thing (and Dick is a little scared of what she really saw in his body language.)

Cass uses her grappling hook and comes and gets him. She brings him to a nearby rooftop and helps him sit down. Dick gulps as Cass stares at him directly in the eye. And Dick, Dick feels exposed. He doesn’t look away though. But he can tell she knows.

“Bad Big Brother.” She scowls, frustrated.

“Cass, I’m-“ Before he can finish his excuse, Cass shushes him.

He can tell she wants to say more to him, but she holds back.

“Nightwing. Injured. Assist.” Cass says into the comms.

“Cass I can walk-“

“No.”

“But I-“

“No.”

“Oka-“

“No.”

Dick sighs. Bruce always complains about all of them being stubborn, but really, Cass is the worst out of all of them. They wait in silence as Bruce starts heading towards their location. And it’s not peaceful silence, it’s judgemental silence because Dick can feel Cass glaring into the back of his head. Dick sighs again.

Soon enough, Bruce arrives in the Batmobile and Cass helps him inside. Dick avoids Bruce’s questioning gaze or Cass’ look that is telling him to talk to Bruce about what happened. He just stares out the window. Cass makes a noise of displeasure from the back, but Dick knows Bruce won’t understand or pick up any clues about their interaction, so he isn’t worried. He just has to convince Cass that she was seeing things. (He knows it’s basically impossible, but he has to try.)

Cass is instantly by his side when he exits the Batmobile. The whole family is already in the cave, and they watch as she drags him to their medical cots. The thing about Cass is that when she’s mad at you, you’ll know. And Dick guesses that she’s not mad per say, but she’s definitely frustrated, annoyed, and worried. She doesn’t speak to him at all and just starts placing her hand on his shoulder, ready to relocate it. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself as his shoulder pops back into place. A muffled fuck makes it out of his mouth, and he slowly rotates his arm to get a feel. He can feel his whole family staring at him, and he’s seconds away from telling them off when—

“You almost... didn’t stop. You hitting ground.” Cass stares at him unwaveringly. 

Dick winces. “Of course I was going to Cass—“

“You hesitated. Want pain. Why?” She demands.

And Dick can hear the rest of his family coming closer. He gulps as Jason, Tim, Damian, Stephanie, Duke, and Bruce make their way towards them. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this isn’t going to plan.

“Cass, I don’t know what—“

“Lie.”

“Cass—“

“Lie!” She stomps her foot, and Dick stops trying to speak.

“What is she talking about, Dick?” Bruce asks.

Dick can’t find it in himself to look at any of them. 

-

All he wanted was a hug.

Chapter Text

He was fourteen, and it was his birthday. Dick absolutely demolished Bruce at bowling. (He could tell that Bruce was going easy on him, but it created a warm feeling in his chest, so he didn’t say anything in protest.) It was around this point that he started accepting that Bruce was his Dad. It took time to accept it, but Dick loved him as if Bruce was his real father. He finally stopped feeling guilty for it. And in his head, he’d refer to Bruce as Dad. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud just yet, but he thought that if he were to, this day would be the perfect day to call Bruce Dad.

“C’mon B, let’s get ice cream!!” Dick hollered.

“Alright, Chum, just slow down.” Bruce chuckles.

“You’re getting slow in your old age, old man.” 

“Take it back right now.” His Dad grins as B grasps Dick’s hand in his own to slow him down.

Dick giggles as Bruce pulls him close to his chest. They walk like that, with Bruce’s hand on Dick’s shoulder, love and warmth seeping into each other. They ordered ice cream, and Dick was vibrating with excitement. His Dad was more appalled with the amount of toppings and sugar Dick must be consuming, but Dick was too happy to care. He also felt his smile grow as Bruce tried to secretly watch him with fond eyes. And in that moment, Dick thinks that maybe Bruce sees him as his son just as Dick sees Bruce as his father.

“I love you, B.” 

Bruce has a small smile on his lips, and he grabs a napkin to rub chocolate off of Dick’s face. 

“I love you too, chum.”

Dick beams.

The next week, the fighting and harsh arguments start between them. There’s a growing tension, and it feels like the seconds before Dick’s parents’ rope snapped. All taught and ready to let him fall to his doom. He’s suspended in a free fall, unsure of his footing but absolutely certain that he’s going to fall. The week after that, he’s shot by the joker, and Bruce disowns him, kicks him out. Bruce tells him that same night that he never should’ve taken Dick in. Bruce’s cold voice sounds like his parents screams and the ropes snapping, and he hears it in his nightmares all the same. He no longer has Bruce as his safety net to catch him.

Dick remembers his fourteen birthday well because it’s the last time he remembers Bruce telling him that he loved him. He remembers it as one of the last times he felt like he actually belonged in the batfamily and that was before all of the new additions.  

It was the last time he ever considered calling Bruce Dad out loud. He never even got the chance to call him that.

Dick stares at his feet and doesn’t speak. For once in his life, he’s at a loss as to what to say. He knows that Cass would just see right through him, and he’s not sure how to lie to everyone with Cass watching his every move. He loves her, but he knows if she wasn’t here he could easily diffuse this situation, and it’s out of his hands now.

“Big brother. Why?” And Cass, well, Cass plays dirty by cupping his cheek with her hands, and she’s so gentle that Dick can’t help but look at her. 

It’s silent as Dick takes in a breath, “I didn’t mean to, honest. It was just…a habit.”

“It was a habit to become a pancake on the floor?!” Jason exclaims.

Dick winces. That was bad wording on his part. Time to backtrack. “No, no, no, of course not.”

“Then what did you mean?” Bruce asks darkly, with no less worry.

“I—“ But the words are lost in Dick’s throat. 

He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t know if they’ll laugh or pity him or think he’s stupid. They definitely won’t like his answer no matter what. And he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if they’re disgusted with him, if they decide to never show him affection again just because of the idiotic stunts he pulled. He doesn’t want to face rejection again.

“Why?” Cass repeats, somehow gentler than she was before.

“It’s nothing Cass, really.”

She lets out a frustrated breath. “Not nothing,” Cass looks at him skeptically, and Dick freezes as her expression softens, “Want…be warm?”

“What does that even mean?!” Dick winces again. Jason was definitely losing his shit. 

“Grayson? Does this have anything to do with what you said after we got into the car accident?” Damian prods weakly.

But that can’t be right because Dick doesn’t remember saying anything. (He does remember Damian’s shocked face, and now he worries as to what he might’ve said.) And Dick just- his heart breaks at how unsure Damian sounds. He did that. He did that to him. It leaves him floundering a bit. 

“What did I say?” Dick asks tentatively.

Bruce answers for Damian. “Damian came to me last week because he was concerned about what you said. He told me you said that you were happy to be injured because…because Damian was hugging you.” (Well, that explains Bruce’s and Damian’s concerned looks that they’d try to hide from him throughout this past week)

Dick flinches, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the family. Sometimes he hates that he has a family of detectives. (Even worse it makes it harder to tell himself that maybe they just didn’t know how much they hurt him. But they must have because they’re detectives , right? Then again, ignorance is bliss.)

Cass slowly climbs onto the medical cot with him and wraps her arm around his waist. She lays her cheek against his chest and squeezes him tight. Dick chokes on his breath and lets out a shaky exhale. Realization dawns on the rest of his family’s face, but he can tell that Tim is the only one to figure out the whole truth, other than Cass, of course.

“Two weeks ago I watched you get punched by some two-bit thug, which allowed others to get clean hits on you. You never should’ve been hit, you-” Tim speaks, still piecing everything together, connecting things that he must’ve missed.

“You have a habit of letting yourself be injured because… you want to be warm. You want physical affection?” Tim questions, but Dick knows that he’s sure of his conclusion.

“I caught myself. I didn’t mean to hesitate. I didn’t. I’m not trying to kill myself or anything.” And Dick means it, but he sees the way his family flinches when he mentions killing himself.

“Why didn’t you just ask!?” Jason yells, clearly frustrated.

“Maybe because he thought you’d react like this!” Tim yells back.

Steph steps in, “You guys aren’t helping right now-”

“Shush, Brown like you know anything-”

“Guys, chill-“

Cass perks up from where she has been cuddling Dick (thankfully she doesn't let him go). “Stop.” She demands.

Dick kind of wants to cry.

“Quiet!” Bruce shouts, and everyone goes silent.

“Was the injury you sustained from Scarecrow…?” B doesn't have to finish his sentence for Dick to know what he’s asking, and Dick simply screws his eyes shut in response.

“Dick, why didn’t you just ask one of us for a hug?” Bruce prods gently.

Dick can’t help but laugh but it comes off more as a strangled cough, “Really? Really?! I don’t fucking know Bruce. Why wouldn’t I ask one of you guys for a hug ?!”

He completely ignores the voice in the back of his mind that’s telling him to stop talking.

“Why wouldn’t I ask our emotionally constipated family for a hug when they act like physical affection is something that would kill them! None of you- none of you guys fucking care.”

He turns to look at Jason. “Jason, you’d rather put a bullet in me than even say something nice about me. Why in the world would I ask you for a hug?!” 

“And Tim!?” Dick knows he should stop talking but he can’t help himself. He can feel guilty later. “You haven’t even looked at me the same way since Damian became Robin. Even when you do give me a hug, I barely even register that you were there . You hate me. I know you do, you must hate me, and I can’t even be mad at you for it because it’s all my fault. If I was better then maybe you wouldn’t- I don’t even know. I don’t know . All I know is that you used to love my hugs, and now you don’t even love me .”

There’s just too much to unpack with Tim, and he has never been able to say anything without breaking their already tentative truce. 

He feels like he’s barely breathing by the time he looks at Damian. “And Damian, you never hesitate to tell me that you hate it when I shower you with affection. I know you don’t mean it. I know you don’t, but it’s hard to keep telling myself when you keep yelling at me for trying to show you that I fucking love you !”

“And Duke and Steph and Cass, I just- I rarely see you, and I hate that. I hate it, and it’s not your fault, but I miss you guys all the time. Fuck, all of you I rarely see because I don’t have a place in your life .”

The pressure builds in his chest, and he’s horrified to feel tears forming in his eyes. “And you Bruce?! You’re never really Bruce around us, you’re never really our Dad. You’re never my Dad. You’re always Batman . And Batman doesn't give hugs to Nightwing or Dick Grayson . But you know who he’d comfort? You know who he’d care about? Victims. All of you, the lot of you. You only ever care about me when I’m hurt, when I’m bleeding out, or when I’m broken . That’s all any of you ever care about. You only care about victims, so I became one!”

Dick chokes on a sob and closes his eyes as he tries to regain his breathing. Fuck, fuck . His night wasn’t supposed to go down like this. When he opens his eyes, his whole family is staring back at him in shock, and he’s surprised to find them all teary eyed.

“I just- you all have your own lives. I get that. I get it, okay? I just…want to know that I’m part of it, is all. I  know you all have reasons to dislike physical affection, but you never hesitate to tell me you hate me. Or how I messed up. Or,” Dick glances at Bruce and looks away, “how I’m not part of the family.”

“It’s just nice sometimes, to be reminded that you guys care. That I’m not a burden . And if that means I come home more sore than usual then fine. Good. Great. Fantastic .” 

Dick isn’t bitter, he’s not .

“I just want to be able to hug my family without feeling like you'll all hate me for it. I just want a hug from my Dad . But I can’t even have that because I’m not actually a part of this fucking family.”

Suddenly, all the fight in Dick vanishes, and he slumps into Cass’s embrace like a puppet whose string was cut. He doesn’t look any of them in the eye, his vision is all blurry anyway, so he wouldn’t be able to see them. His chest heaves up and down and up and down, but it’s like he’s barely breathing. No one speaks, and Dick takes it as a rejection. God, this is so stupid. It shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn't. Dick just needs to learn to take a fucking hint. Of course his family doesn’t want physical affection. Jason never really got over hating him, Tim never got over Dick giving Damian Robin, Damian doesn’t need him, the others are too busy for him, and Bruce never saw him as his son. He just needs to accept it. He has accepted it. He just doesn’t know why it’s so hard. Fuck, fuck. Fuck.

Dick jolts in surprise as he feels some drape their arm around his shoulder. He glances up to see Jason using his arm to pull Dick into his chest in a similar way that Cass is buried in Dick’s chest. He watches in bewilderment as Tim settles down next to Jason and places a hand on Dick’s knee. Duke has strong resolve written all over his face as he finds a place behind Dick, so he can lay on his shoulder without disrupting Cass. Steph sits next to Cass, but Dick can still feel her warmth from afar. Damian’s face is red as he literally plops himself into Dick’s lap. 

Dick has never felt so warm.

But he starts to struggle out of their grips because no . He knows they don’t want this. He knows, and he refuses to be the type of older brother to put his own needs before his family. Never again. (He knows where that road leads. After missing Jason’s funeral, after hearing the Joker’s fucking laugh in the video of him beating up his little wing. He can’t afford to put his needs before his family’s. He knows that, he knows with a boolean certainty that he could never matter as much as they do . It doesn't bother him, he prefers it that way. Because he loves them so fucking much, and he never really learned to love himself.)

“Guys- guys you don’t have to. I know you hate physical affection. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go off. I don’t want you to do this just because you feel guilty and-”

“Shut up, Dickie. You have nothing to apologize for.” Jason scoffs, but Dick can see the concern in his gaze.

“But-”

“Quiet, Big Brother. Hug time.” And Dick wishes he could take a picture of Cass because she looks adorable where she’s laying on his chest.

Dick tries to shrug off their holds, but they all hold onto him like…like he’s something precious, something worth keeping around, and not a…not a burden. It makes Dick hesitate long enough for him to realize that they all effectively trapped him in a sandwich of siblings.

Well, there’s only one thing he can do now, right?

“...Thank you.” Dick whispers, and he lets himself be held together by his family.

The tears start to form in his eyes again for entirely different reasons now. He lets out a small gasp as calloused but gentle hands cup his face. And when he looks up, he sees Bruce’s expression- and Dick can’t- because Bruce’s gaze is just so warm. He lets the tears fall, and Bruce rubs them away. Bruce presses a kiss to Dick’s forehead and cups the back of Dick’s head as he pulls Dick closer.

Dick closes his eyes and basks in their warmth. He completely relaxes and finds himself drifting in and out of sleep. He lets out a whine as some warmth leaves him, but before he knows it, he’s being carried bridal style in someone’s arms. A sob escapes his throat, as he shifts around, trying to find where the rest of his family went. He wants to feel their warmth again.

“I’m just bringing you to bed, Big Bird. The others are changing and will join you soon. Don’t worry.” Jason soothes.

Okay, yeah, he can wait. He can do that. Jason will keep him warm.

He buries his head into the crook of Jason’s neck. He has always loved hugs from Jason because they never stop to make him feel protected and safe. Jason gently sets him down on the bed, and Dick registers it as Bruce’s bed. Jason doesn’t hesitate to curl around Dick and tuck Dick’s head into his chest.

“You can ask us for hugs, Big Bird. At any time. I know we are all... stubborn assholes and emotionally constipated, and we’d never admit it, but we do like your hugs. We need them just as much as we need you.”

And Dick has never heard Jason sound so soft and caring towards him . Maybe to Roy and Kory, but not him, never him. Dick can’t find words to say back, so he just cuddles closer to Jason and squeezes his hand. He’s almost completely asleep when he feels a dip in the bed. It’s Bruce, he can tell by the weight of the person.

“B?” 

“Go to bed, Chum.”

Dick whines, as he reaches around, trying to find Bruce’s hand, “Mm’ tryin’ tah.” 

His Dad chuckles as he wraps an arm around Dick. Bruce starts running a hand through Dick’s hair, luring him to sleep. The rest of his siblings join them on the bed, creating a massive cuddle pile, and Dick is about to sleep, but he has one more thing he needs to tell them. 

“M’ luv you guys.”

“You owe me waffles, but yeah, I love you too, Dick.”

“We love you too!”

“Love Big Brother.”

“You’re such a sap Dickiebird. But yeah, love you too, I guess.”

“You should be sleeping, Richard… But I care for you as well.”

And Tim doesn't say it, but Dick feels him trace it on his arm.

“I love you all .” His Dad says quietly but confidently.

Dick has never breathed easier.

Bruce was warm.

Bruce and his parents just finished watching Zorro in the theatres near Park Row, and he couldn't be happier. His Dad’s hand was on his shoulder while his mom was holding his hand, but they were both keeping him close, sandwiched between them. They allowed him to have both popcorn and icecream even though Alfred would disapprove, and he loved it. He loved every time his dad called him Chum and every time his mother would press a gentle kiss on his forehead.

They were walking down an alley when a man stopped them. He was trying to mug them. Bruce is thrown behind his parents, as his dad raises his hands with his palms open in defense. Bruce can hear his father pleading and his mother crying, but he doesn't know what’s going on. His mom makes sure that he’s behind her, and he sees his dad take a step back then-

Bang

Bang 

Bang

Bruce stays there, on his knees with tears streaming down his face. His chest is hollow as if something special and fragile was carved out, never to be fixed. His mother’s pearls are scattered across the cement, broken in their beauty. His parents’ blood pools around his knees, and his clothes have splattered blotches of red, as if he was a canvas, the crimson color mocking him and calling his parent’s blood artwork. As if anything like this could ever be beautiful.

Bruce has never felt so cold.

After his parents’ deaths, he flinches whenever someone tries to touch him. Even if that someone is Alfred. No one else’s warmth feels like his parents, and the manor becomes cold. Nothing could ever replace his parents’ touch, and Bruce finds himself hating anyone who tries. (It’s only till years later does he realize that over time, he had become more accepting towards Alfred’s rare displays of affection.)

But then Dick Grayson comes into his life, and everything changes. Suddenly, he’s warm again, and it doesn't burn. He thinks that he finally understands what his parent’s must’ve felt like every time Bruce caught onto their fond gaze because he sees it in the mirror every time he looks at Dick. He starts calling Dick Chum like his father did, and he begins to give Dick goodnight kisses every night like his mother used to. And through it all, it doesn't hurt.

Sometimes, he’s scared of what all the love he feels for this child will do to him one day, but he knows that he can’t stop loving Dick Grayson and that he can’t imagine trying to stop loving him. It would be impossible because Dick is his son, and he will always love him.

It isn’t until Dick is fourteen do things change. They fight more, and it reminds him of the sound of gunshots, the sound his parents’ bodies made as they crumpled to the ground. It reminds him of his mother’s broken pearls. Then Dick is shot, and Bruce is back in that same alley, and he’s cold. Bruce swears to himself that night that he will never feel like that again. (But then Jason happens and he’s lost and scared and his Jaylad is dead. It’s a different kind of cold when one loses a child. It’s frostbite, a feeling so cold that it only burns and burns and burns, and Bruce was never the same again.)

When Dick leaves (when Bruce kicks him out), the manor is cold again. And he misses Dick’s warmth everyday (even when things get better, they’re never truly fixed), but he doesn't allow himself to chase after it. Because what if Dick ends up like his parents? He can’t handle being that cold again, he can’t. (He only makes it through Jason’s death because Tim, his wonderful, intelligent son, comes into his life.)

Bruce tells himself that Dick will be fine. Dick has friends, he has Clark, he has other people that he can get warmth from. Bruce Wayne was alone years before he met Dick Grayson, and he can do it again.

Dick won’t ever be as cold as his parents’ corpses.

Bruce stares down at his sleeping son, the tear stains still evident on Dick’s cheek. His sweet boy. Bruce thinks back to Dick’s words, of how Dick looked at him when he said that he never felt like he was part of the family. It seems crazy to Bruce, how Dick could ever think that because Bruce can’t imagine this being much of a family without Dick. Dick is always the one to get them to come together on holidays or to insist on taking pictures that are framed around the manor. He’s the one who gets Tim to sleep or Jason to visit or Damian to smile. 

Dick is the reason why he still has a family. And all Bruce has ever done was push him away. But the thing is, Bruce doesn't know how to be better than he is right now. He doesn't know how to change. And, as ashamed as he is to admit it, Dick has been his crutch for a long time. When he can’t deal with one of his children, he can always trust Dick to pick up the slack. All it feels like is excuses because he’s Batman, and Batman can stop the end of the world, but he can’t be there for his son? No. Bruce refuses to accept that.

(A small voice reminds him that he’s not Batman, not really. Batman is just something Bruce Wayne hides behind because it’s always easier to seem invincible with a mask on than without one. But still, that feels wrong because he doesn't know where Bruce Wayne begins and Batman ends. He’s both of them, it’s just easier to blame Batman than it is to blame Bruce Wayne.)

“I’m sorry I don’t say it enough.” And even now Bruce is ashamed of himself because he just said it seconds ago, but he can’t seem to say it again.

“It’s okay, we know, B.” Tim says.

“Do you?” Because Tim has always been one of his most insecure children (they all are.) 

“We know now.” Tim responds, and his answer makes Bruce feel like a failed parent all over again.

“B? Tim?” Jason interrupts.

“Yeah, Jason?”

“Go to sleep. We can all talk in the morning when Big Bird is awake.” Jason murmurs, sleepiness clear in his tone.

“Goodnight, Jay.”

“Goodnight, Jaylad. Goodnight, Tim.”

As Bruce watches Jason (his alive son, not dead, he’s not dead, he’s alive) curl protectively against his eldest, he can’t help but think that if he’s going to change, then now would be a good place to start. Because he doesn't want to miss any more nights like this. Not when all of his children are home and safe and alive . Bruce falls asleep, knowing that his children are going to be there in the morning. And yes, they’re going to have a long talk with Dick, but for now, he relaxes around his children and sleeps.

-

He has never felt so warm.

Chapter Text

Dick finds out about the new Robin from a newspaper. It’s funny because he doesn't believe it at first, he somehow gets it in his head that it was just a stupid reporter trying to make money. Because there’s no way Bruce his dad   would do that to him, right? Well, he was wrong. It’s only until Dick sees real footage of this new Robin does he finally believe that Bruce replaced him. (A part of him hates how he was surprised that Bruce would replace him. Because why wouldn’t Bruce do this to him, really. He already kicked Dick out, and Dick thought he’d always have a place in the manor, but he was wrong then too. He doesn't want to believe the best in Bruce anymore, but he can’t help it, and he hates himself for it.)

He goes to his apartment in Bludhaven that same day, and he breaks every plate, every cup, everything he can find. That night he finds himself surrounded by shattered pieces of porcelain, and his esophagus shudders with mournful tears and silent sobs. He thinks of the name his mother gave him, the way she’d whisper it into his hair, sharing all the warmth she could with him. Then he thinks back to the way Bruce had said it, all commanding and cold and at a distance. Dick’s mother used the name Robin as a term of endearment, it was something that brought them closer together. But Bruce? Batman? Batman used it as an order, a demand. Something to separate Dick Grayson, his son, and Robin, his soldier. It brought them further apart.

He meets Jason, and it doesn't go so well, but Dick does tell him that it’s not Jason’s fault, it’s Bruce’s. He offers the kid his number and tells him to call anytime. It aches in a way he didn’t expect, to see someone else succeed him. He was Robin, and it doesn't feel like him anymore, but he knows that it was never supposed to be someone else’s. It’s the feeling of seeing children grow up with different childhood shows that he grew up with. It’s the fact that they don’t know the history, they don’t know what it feels like to witness true art and have it completely disregarded just because something new came along. It hurts knowing that there is a Robin that comes after him, but it makes him proud too. He tries to focus on the pride instead of the pain, but when he sees his colors on Jason, he can’t help but look away. 

Everything becomes worse, somehow, when he finds a newspaper three months later talking about how Bruce Wayne adopted Jason Todd. And he’s- he’s so angry. Frustration builds up inside him, and he feels like a match drowned in murky waters, a light made to be put out. And with all that rage, comes a moment of anguish. He crashes from the build up and heads straight to rock bottom. 

(He hates that Bruce adopting Jason hurts more than Bruce giving Jason the name Robin. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is. He has more years with Bruce than he will ever get to have with his parents. He doesn't know why, but he can handle Bruce hating him, but he can’t handle Bruce not loving him. And there’s a difference between the two.)

He doesn't break anything or scream or sob when he finds out Bruce adopted Jason. He just goes back to his apartment and lays on his bed. He stares at the ceiling for who knows how long. He doesn't remember if he cried, but if he did, he did so in silence. He never turns on any lights, and he doesn't patrol that night to burn off his emotions. He just stays completely still.

He falls asleep eventually, feeling useless and pathetic and hating himself with every fiber of his being.

It feels like punishment for not being enough, and it speaks louder than his screams ever did.

Dick wakes up warm. It’s the first thing he notices. He doesn't really want to get up. Slowly, and with much effort, he opens his eyes and blinks away the drowsiness. He looks up to see that he’s tucked under Jason’s chest, and he looks at Jason’s relaxed, sleeping face in awe. (He can feel Jason’s pulse on his wrist, and Dick breathes easier knowing that Jason is alive.)

He doesn't move, in fear of waking anyone up, but he feels someone else shift around him. Dick turns to the side where he remembers Bruce laying down, but in his place is a wide awake Tim Drake who is staring at him with owlish eyes.

“Tim? Did you get any sleep?” Dick frowns at the bags under Tim’s eyes.

Tim scoffs playfully, “Yes, Mom , I did. My eye bags aren’t going to go away with only 7 hours of sleep.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “7 hours of sleep? Stop lying to me Tim, I know that you never sleep for that long.”

Tim squawks in mock offense, and Dick laughs. He hasn’t joked around with Tim like this in a while, and it just reminds him of how much he missed it. Sure, they still banter, and it’s fun, but Dick always has to be careful about what he says just in case it breaks their tentative truce. Talking about Tim’s sleeping habits was something Tim rarely tolerated from him after he gave Robin to Damian. 

(He hates himself for that too especially since he knows what it feels like to be replaced. But Damian was never supposed to replace Tim. He had wanted Tim to be Nightwing more than anything. Another part of him is glad though, that Nightwing is still his . Robin was taken away from him by Batman, and when he had become Batman it felt like irony . Nightwing was always his though. But he knows that if he dies, then he would want Tim to be Nightwing. He can’t think of anyone better. As much as Dick loves both Damian and Jason, he thinks that his story has always been closest to Tim’s. And a cycle of rebirth, well, if there was anyone who could rise up from the ashes as a creature of darkness to bring about light, then it would be Tim. But a part of him aches knowing that Nightwing was destined to live a lonely existence. He knows it fits both him and Tim, but he doesn't want that type of loneliness for his baby bird even if Dick could accept it for himself.)

“Shut up, you two. You guys are so loud.” Jason groans from where Dick thought him to still be sleeping.

“Morning Jay.” Dick smiles at him.

Jason looks at him closely and carefully asks, “How are you feeling, Dick?”

Dick gulps as he realizes the scope of Jason’s questions. And while he loves his siblings, Dick suddenly doesn’t want to be anywhere near them. He doesn’t want to be interrogated or disowned or rejected. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that from everyone (he could barely handle it from Bruce).

“I’m fine. Are we- Do we have to talk about last night?” Dick asks in a whisper.

“You can’t say the things you did and expect us to not want to talk about it.” Tim answers.

But Dick can see the way that Tim also doesn't really want to talk about what he said, and Dick understands because they never really talked about Dick giving Damian Robin. Sure, they’ve had their yelling matches, but a mature conversation about what happened? No. Dick doesn't think he’s ready for that either. He knows it’ll hurt. It already does just thinking about it.

“I don’t want to.” And Dick is horrified to realize that he sounds like a petulant eight year old. He’s even pouting, what is wrong with him, jeez.

Jason lets out a laugh at Dick’s tone, “Sorry, Big Bird, but ya have to. If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure the rest of the family is scared to talk about…everything too.”

“But we are still going to?”

And Jason’s expression turns stormy, “Yeah Dick, we are still going to. Like hell are we going to let you keep hurting yourself.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Save it for someone else.” Jason pulls away from Dick, and before Dick can say anything, Jason basically runs out of the room.

Well, that was a quick turn of events. 

Tim nudges him, “You know he has issues with things like this. I’m not sure, but…I think it reminds him of his mother.” 

And Dick suddenly feels crushing guilt. Of course this would remind Jason of his mother. He remembers Jason talking to him one night, of how he had to find Catherine’s body in their bathtub with a syringe and other drugs next to her. Jason always felt like her overdose was his fault even though he knows he couldn't have done anything. 

“This is… it’s different.”

Tim sighs, “I don’t think it is. Just…come down when you’re ready okay?”

Tim follows after Jason, leaving Dick alone in Bruce’s room. His other siblings must’ve left when Bruce first woke up. Truthfully, Dick doesn't want to go downstairs. He doesn't want to face his family or anything he said, but he knows he can’t avoid it. Dick quietly makes his way downstairs and peaks into the dinning room.

He watches as Steph tries stealing pancakes from Tim and how Alfred gently scolds her from where he’s making pancakes with Jason. Duke starts taking back the pancakes Steph stole from Tim, and he puts them back on Tim’s plate. He sees Damian whispering to Cass, and at the center of it all… is Bruce. He’s pretending to read a newspaper, but Dick sees the way Bruce is staring fondly at his siblings. (He sees how Bruce’s gaze sometimes lingers on Jason as if B can’t believe that Jason is alive. Dick doesn't fault him for it, sometimes he needs to be reminded that Jason is alive too).

And it’s moments like these that remind Dick of why he does what he does. Why he tries hard to not argue with Bruce in front of his siblings. Why he doesn't tell them how he feels. Because he wants to keep this so badly that it hurts. (He tries so hard not to antagonize Bruce or Jason or any of his siblings because he learned from Jason that with the life they live, they don’t have as much time together as one might think. Years spent arguing with Bruce made him lose years getting to know his first younger brother. He can’t waste anymore time, he can’t .)

Damian's voice breaks his train of thoughts. “Are you going to join us, Richard?”

Dick doesn't verbally answer, but he makes his way to an empty seat next to Damian. He’s proud of how far they have all gotten. It took time for them to have family dinners with everyone at the manor. There would always be someone missing, but here they all are, eating pancakes. Who knew the bats could be so domestic. 

All in all, breakfast isn’t awkward. He banters with his siblings, and some food is thrown around that Alfred makes them clean up, but it isn’t bad. In fact, it’s more than great, and Dick finds himself loving every second of it. But throughout breakfast, he notices the glances his siblings try to hide. Even Alfred looks at him with concern at times and that’s how Dick knows that someone informed Alfred of last night’s events. 

(He was glad that Alfred wasn’t there last night. He hates to admit it, but Dick knows that Alfred will always choose Bruce and step aside as Bruce throws Dick away. He loves the butler, and he would never tell his siblings this, but Dick knows better than to trust Alfred. He has felt first hand the betrayal of Alfred saying nothing as Dick hands him his keys to the manor, the ones that Bruce told him to leave on his way out the door. He never blamed Alfred, but he can’t find it in himself to trust him after all this time. With other things, sure, but when it comes to Bruce, well, Dick’s wellbeing will always be the second choice. And Dick can’t help but think that this is the calm before the storm.)

Once everyone finishes up, they all move to the living room. Steph tries to keep up the facade by joking around with Tim, but everyone’s mood turns somber, as they all settle down on couches or chairs. Duke sits next to Tim, and it almost looks like he’s trying to hide. (Sometimes Dick sees how Duke feels out of place in the family, and it makes Dick’s heart hurt. He reminds himself to take Duke train surfing the next time they’re both free.)

And while Dick doesn't want to talk to his family, he decides that if they’re going to have this conversation, then Dick is going to try and control as much of it as he can.

“I’m not suicidal. It really was an accident.” Dick clarifies.

Jason, ever the stubborn one, speaks up, “Yeah it was an accident born from your habit to let yourself get injured, which qualifies as a suicidal tendency.”

“Jason-” Dick starts, but he doesn't have the chance to finish before Bruce holds his hand up, stopping both Jason and DIck from arguing.

“We aren’t accusing you of being suicidal. I…hate that you have been doing this to yourself, but I understand that the reasons behind your actions aren’t because you…don’t want to live anymore.” Bruce struggles to get out, but Dick calms down a little because at least Bruce understands that much.

“But you have to understand that your actions could be a problem, not just for you, but for others too.” And Dick knows Bruce doesn't mean it that way, but it makes Dick feel like Bruce is calling him a failure. 

Dick clenches his hand, and Cass catches onto the movement. She quickly smacks the side of Bruce’s head with…her croc? When did Cass get a croc, what-

“Communicate. Better.” Cass demands.

“What the hell, B?” Jason says at the same time.

Bruce blinks in confusion, and Dick, ever the peacekeeper, feels like he has to diffuse the situation.

“Guys, he’s right. I know that what I’ve been doing isn’t okay. I get what he means, really. I was only thinking about myself, and I’m sorry.” Dick apologizes, but it only seems to make things worse.

“Wait, Dick- that- that wasn’t what I was trying to say-”

 

“This is all your fault B.”

“Father, take back what you said at once!”

“Wow this is a mess you’ve created B-man.”

“Stop it, right now, all of you.” Alfred demands, and everyone quiets instantly.

Dick already wants to jump out the window and run back to bludhaven. 

“Dick, I didn’t mean it like that. I just. I don’t want you to be hurting yourself for something as simple as a hug, and if this happened on a dangerous night of patrol then things could go wrong very fast. For you and your siblings. You know that one of us becoming injured distracts everyone else.” And Dick does know that, and sure, Bruce phrased it better this time, but all Dick hears is you’re supposed to be more responsible than this Nightwing.

Bruce has never failed to make him feel like an idiot.

“B if you don’t shut the hell up I’m going to punch you.” Jason scowls.

“No- Jason, it’s fine. I get what he means okay. Always gotta put the mission first, right bossman?” I mean, Dick is barely keeping himself together right now, but whatever right? 

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Then what the hell do you mean?!” Dick yells, and he’s surprised to find that he’s already shaking. Come on, he already had his mental breakdown yesterday, he doesn't need another one.  

He pinches the bridge of his nose and holds back his anger. “Listen, Bruce, you don’t understand. I can’t keep doing this for you, I can’t . I can’t just keep accepting your excuses or the fact that you can’t properly communicate. I can’t keep trying to translate every bat grunt you throw at me. I can’t, okay?”

“I’m sorry!” Bruce blurts out, and if this were at any other point in time, Dick would be laughing at how un-composed Bruce is, but Dick can’t focus on anything right now.

Dick doesn't say anything, and Bruce takes it as a sign to continue, “I know that you screamed at, well, all of us, but I know your main reason for feeling out of place here is because of…me. Because I failed you.”

And Dick blinks in shock because Bruce never, never admits that he has failed. Ever. (He’s less surprised by Bruce apologizing though. People don’t expect Bruce to apologize, and Dick gets it because Bruce rarely does. But Dick knows Bruce better than everyone. B is a creature of guilt. He might not always say the words, but Bruce is always sorry, and Dick hates it because it's never enough. Because Bruce’s guilt has always mattered more to Bruce than the victims of Bruce’s actions.)

“I made you feel like you don’t have a home here, and I’m sorry for that, Dick, I’m so sorry.” And Dick can’t seem to meet Bruce’s eyes because he’s scared of what he’ll see. (He always caves in too quickly when he sees Bruce is in pain. Dick hates himself for it, but he can’t help it. A part of him will always be Batman’s Robin even if Robin was never supposed to be Batman’s in the first place.)

“What are you talking about, Bruce?” Jason asks darkly, and Dick winces, suddenly reminded that his whole family was in the room.

From the corner of his eye he sees Alfred look at him with an old kind of sadness and regret. Bruce and Alfred are similar in that regard. They’re both creatures of guilt and regret. Always doing something but never enough. And Dick does sympathize with them though because he, too, was never able to be good enough. Alfred and Bruce were able to be better for the rest of his siblings because they failed with him first, and as much as it hurts him, Dick will always be grateful for it.

“It’s nothing Jason-”

“No!” Jason interrupts, “You don’t get to say it’s nothing Dick . You always say it’s nothing and next thing we know you’re having a mental breakdown. There’s a lot of information that we are missing, and you can’t hide it anymore. What did you mean last night when you said you weren’t part of this family? The Dick Grayson I know would never say that this wasn’t his family.”

Dick barks out a cynical laugh, “That’s the thing, isn’t it Jason? Who is the Dick Grayson that you know?” 

That makes Jason hesitate for a second, but he turns to Bruce and asks once again, “What did Dick mean when he said he wasn’t part of this family? He looked at you when he said it.”

And before Bruce can answer, Dick does, “I aged out, okay? That’s all.” 

Bruce flinches.

“What do you mean?” Tim pipes up from where he had been watching silently, but as always, it seems like Tim has already figured it out.

“I was never adopted.”

Silence rings throughout the room, and Dick feels like he is suffocating. 

“What?” Jason’s voice is low, but his eyes are disbelieving. He looks like he’s a second away from punching Bruce in the face.

“You, Jason, are the eldest son of Bruce Wayne. I’m just the ward who aged out.” Dick would find Jason’s confused expression cute if he didn’t feel like crying.

“And I just- ha- I never told you guys because I don’t know. Maybe I thought you wouldn’t see me as your brother anymore. Jason, when you first came back, and I said we were brothers, you just told me that we might’ve been adopted by the same man, but it didn’t make us brothers. Would you have gotten to know me if you found out that, really, we have no ties to each other? We didn’t have a good relationship before your death, and the only reason you let me eventually get close to you was because I could make the brother claim. What would you have done, I wonder, if you knew that claim was void? During that time, all you wanted to do was hurt me. I’m not mad about it, but if you knew back then that I wasn’t adopted, could you honestly say that you wouldn’t have used it against me?”

Jason stares at him with his lips pressed into a thin line, but Dick can see the truth in his eyes. Dick can see that Jason doesn't know what he would’ve done if he had known that Dick wasn’t adopted but that it probably wouldn't have been anything nice. And that breaks his heart even more. It shouldn’t though because Dick knows that a year ago Jason wouldn’t have hesitated to use that against him. He knows it with a reluctant kind of certainty. 

He then turns to the rest of his siblings. “Bruce is the reason we know each other. He’s the reason we all met. He’s the connection. And I’m just, I’m just here. I’m not his son, but I really wanted to be your brother.”

And Dick means it, his expression is open and honest. He doesn't know how to be Bruce’s son, but he has always wanted to be their brother, more than anything in the world. 

“I get it, Dick. You are our brother regardless of B-man. He can’t take that away from you.” Stephanie says fiercely.

And Dick sees the complete understanding reflected in Steph’s gaze. He thinks that, out of everyone in his family, Stephanie understands this the most. Bruce wasn’t welcoming to her. Bruce used her just as Bruce uses him. She doesn't have Wayne attached to her last name, and neither does Dick, but she’s part of this family. Dick knows she is. He hates that she can relate to him, but at that moment, he can only be grateful for it.

“You are both part of the family.” Bruce insists, and Dick knows that he saw the understanding in Steph’s gaze. Bruce saw that Steph doesn't feel as part of the family just as much as Dick doesn't.

Damian steps forward in front of everyone and softly but boldly declares, “You are my Batman.”

And Dick understands what he means. (Dick is surprised when Bruce doesn't react or comment on what Damian says.)

“I didn’t know you wanted to be adopted Dick.” Bruce admits.

“What child wouldn’t want to be sure of their place in their family?” Dick asks in lieu of a response.

“But you- you told me you didn’t want it.”

And that causes Dick to freeze because- “What?”

“You told me you didn’t want me to replace John Grayson.”

Before Dick has the opportunity to open that can of worms-

“Just, give me a second.” And Bruce is racing out of the room.

Jason stares at Bruce’s retreating form incredulously, and Dick blinks a couple times. What the-?

Jason starts cursing Bruce out in Spanish, but Bruce comes back just as quickly as he left. He comes up right in front of Dick (and he has to resist flinching back at the sudden movement. This is one thing that Dick will never let Cass see. He can’t hide many things from her, but he would rather Bruce kick him out again before Cass ever learns of the extent of Bruce's…ignorance.) 

Bruce gently offers him a vanilla folder, and Dick lets out a choked sound when he sees the contents.

“The first time I drew up adoption papers for you was…your fourteenth birthday.” And that doesn't sting, it doesn't . “But things changed, drastically, and before I knew it, you were gone.”

“The second time I took the papers out was when I was going to adopt Jason. I thought I could make it official for both of you, but it was wishful thinking on my part. You still…hated me back then, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I brought it up to you.” 

Dick’s hands are shaking as he looks at the adoption forms with Dick’s name and other information filled out. This can’t be real, it can’t be. He bites his bottom lip and has to stop himself from hugging Bruce. He had always thought Bruce didn’t want him. Dick doesn't know when he started crying.

(He doesn't know what’s worse. The fact that Bruce throws him away and makes him come back but still somehow cares about him or the fact that Bruce obviously didn’t care enough. It was easier, he thinks, when he thought Bruce didn’t care because how could you possibly do this to someone you loved? But a part of Dick knows that love is the greatest curse of all time. And maybe Bruce never learned how to distinguish his hate from his love, they’re the same shade of blood after all.)

“Would you- Would you still want to be adopted? There’s adult forms, and I- I would like to adopt you.” And Bruce looks at him so earnestly that it hurts. (Everyone in the family catches the way Bruce throws a glance at Stephanie and the way she stiffens in response. Dick thinks that they’ll be having a private conversation later.)

“Can I think about it, please?” Dick thinks he sees hurt flash across Bruce’s face, but he isn’t sure if it’s because he didn’t say yes or because of the way Dick said please .

Because while he knows Bruce is different now, Dick can’t forget everything Bruce has said to him in the past. The times Bruce would walk away from him, tell him that Dick isn’t his son. (The things he said after Jason’s death.) Dick can’t say yes without it feeling like Bruce is winning all over again. Bruce will act like he loves him, and then Dick will fall for it, and Bruce will throw him away again. 

(He misses the looks that his siblings are sharing with each other.)

“Of course, but there’s still more we need to talk about.” 

And for a second Dick thinks that Bruce is referring to what happened after Jason’s death, which Dick is never going to talk about especially in front of his siblings-

But then Bruce continues, “Ask us for hugs.” 

It sounds so simple, doesn't it?

(Bruce’s words also surprise Dick because he knows that Bruce has been trying to change. He knows that Bruce has gotten better at interacting with the rest of Dick’s siblings, but Dick has never had such a change directed at him. Even if Bruce improved his relationship with Dick’s siblings, Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship hardly changed. It was always Batman and Nightwing, and there was never enough time for Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson.)

“It’s not as easy as it sounds.” Dick lets out a breath.

“Why not?” Jason asks, challengingly.

“What?”

“Why can’t it be that simple?” Jason steps closer to him, and Dick has to resist taking a step back.

Dick chokes out his answer and closes his eyes, “Because you don’t want it.”

“Can I have a hug, Big Bird?” And Dick blinks in surprise as Jason steps into his space but doesn't touch him. (It means more to him than Jason will know. And that’s another thing that Dick will never let Cass see.)

Dick answers him by wrapping arms around Jason’s torso. He buries his head in Jason's chest and lets out a breath. Jason then wraps his arms around Dick, and for a second, he honestly believes that maybe everything will be okay.

Jason pulls away, and Dick has to bite his lip to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact.

“Don’t go injuring yourself ever again. The kids and I are going to pester you with so much physical affection that you’ll be sick of us.” Dick wants to coo at the blush growing on Jason’s cheeks, but he’s too touched by Jason’s words to do anything other than stare in awe.

“And about everything else…” Jason trails off and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, “Everything else?”

“Everything else you said to each of us.” Tim explains. 

“Oh.” Dick had forgotten about that. Well, he didn’t forget, but he’s still reeling from all the emotions from this conversation alone. He’s not sure if he can take more right now.

Alfred steps in before any of them can say anything. “I’m sure Master Dick is still exhausted from last night’s events. We should give him a break.” 

Alfred hands him a glass of water and gently squeezes his shoulder. Dick can see the apology in his eyes, and Dick thinks that he’s going to have to talk to Alfred too without all his siblings watching. He’s surprised by how little he is opposed to that, actually. Part of the reason they all let this conversation end is probably because it would be easier for them to talk to Dick individually. Dick knows that he has to have private conversations with each of them. He’s not looking forward to it, but he is…glad things are changing. Even if it’s scary.

“Movie.” Cass chirps, as she settles down next to Tim.

“Okay, fine, you win. We can take a break. Now, stop looking so pathetic, Dickiebird, and get over here.” Before Dick knows it, Jason is grabbing his hand and pulling him into the middle of the couch so that he has siblings on both sides of him.

”Move, Drake, I wish to take the superior seat next to Grayson.”

”Hey! You guys are taking up all the space! I’m being squeezed into the couch!” Duke complains, but there’s a grin on his faces.

”Shush. I’m choosing the movie.” Steph smirks as everyone protests.

And Dick is surprised to find that he doesn't feel guilty for accepting their warmth and comfort. He knows that they’re far from finished talking about…all of this. But he’s content to watch a movie with his siblings even though Damian’s elbow is pushing into his stomach.

Bruce can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe. It’s all his fault that Jason is dead. It’s all his fault. Jason should be breathing, not Bruce. Dick isn't wrong, Bruce thinks, as Dick screams at him for failing to save Jason. But at that moment, Bruce wants it to stop. He can’t listen to this anymore, he can’t because all he hears is Jason’s bones breaking in the video that the Joker sent him. He never should’ve made Jason Robin.

“Why did you let him become Robin before he was ready???” Dick asks, grief clear in his blue eyes.

And Dick is only telling him something that Bruce tells himself, but for some reason, hearing it from Dick makes it hurt more. Pressure builds up in Bruce’s chest, and it feels like the recoil of a gunshot. It feels like the burns he sustained from arriving at the Joker’s  warehouse too little too late. It sounds like Bruce calling out Jason’s name before the warehouse exploded, and it feels like the ringing in his ears afterwards.

Before he knows it, Bruce is swinging his fist into Dick’s jaw.

“Don’t you dare blame me for Jason’s death! Don’t you dare!”

(Bruce already blames himself. He can’t handle that blame from Dick, he can’t. )

“Why did I think I needed a partner?” Bruce would always need his sons more. (Son, not sons because one of them was dead -)

“They slow you down. They make you worry about them rather than doing your job! He wouldn’t listen. He wanted to do everything his way. He was just like you . In a few years I would have had to fire him as I did to you .” And it was true. Jason always wanted to be just like Dick, and Bruce never meant to make him feel as if he had to be.

And Bruce is angry, angry at how little time Bruce got to have with Jason. Angry that Dick spent most of that time pushing Jason away. His poor Jaylad would never get a second chance. (Angry that he hit his own son because how could he-)

“Why are you pretending to be concerned about Jason? You told me that you had resented that I had adopted him and not you.” Bruce pretends like he doesn't see Dick’s flinch.

“No I didn’t. I only asked why you adopted him.”Dick can hardly look him in the eye, and Bruce pretends that it’s because Dick is ashamed and not because of the bruise forming on Dick’s face.

“We’ve been over this before. Dick, I’m not interested in continuing this conversation.”

“You were always jealous of Jason. Always. He called you. I know he did. He called you. You could’ve saved him!” Bruce would’ve saved him. Bruce should’ve saved him. Why was Bruce always too late?

“It’s your fault he’s dead!” Batman growls.

(Bruce doesn't see Dick’s crestfallen face or the way Dick was digging his nails into his palm. He doesn't see how months and even years after their fight, Bruce’s words will haunt him. He doesn't see how Dick will attend one of his galas two weeks later on a mission with makeup covering the bruise that Bruce put on his face. Bruce never knows about how Dick will always feel guilty for being jealous of Bruce’s relationship with Jason when Jason comes back to life because the truth is, Dick will always be jealous that Bruce seems to love all his children while he hates Dick. Bruce will never see how Dick still blames himself and how it keeps him up at night.

What Bruce does see is the flinches. How if Bruce moves too fast, Dick will flinch away and make a joke that Bruce scared him, but they both know better. Bruce will laugh, and it’ll come out flat, and neither of them will be able to look each other in the eye.)

Bruce won’t hear the way Dick whispers “I know.”

Bruce had already turned his back on Dick.

“I suggest you leave and give your keys to Alfred on your way out.”

He won’t watch another son die.

-

Dick is glad that the bruise hasn’t formed on his face yet, as he hands his keys to Alfred. He’s glad Alfred doesn't know that Bruce decked him in the face, but a part of him is scared that even if Alfred did know, he wouldn’t do anything. Because he thought the manor would always be his home, but Bruce lied, and Dick wants to scream when he realizes that Alfred isn’t going to stop him from walking out the manor doors. From walking out of Bruce’s life for a second time.

The betrayal stings, but the tricky thing about betrayal is that part of it is always going to be your fault. Because Dick wouldn’t feel betrayed if he never let Bruce back into his life. He was thrown away by Bruce once, so why wouldn’t it happen again? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. Shame on him. 

The worst thing is, Bruce wasn’t wrong. Jason did call him, and Dick wasn’t there the one time Jason needed him. It is Dick’s fault. He only has himself to blame.

When Jason comes back, and Dick is first shot by him, Dick can’t help but think that Jason is right to hate him. Bruce is right to hate him.

He hates himself too.

Bruce watches over his children fondly, as they watch a movie. But then Jason catches his gaze, and Bruce has to resist looking away. There was a promise in Jason’s eyes, and Bruce got the message.

We will talk in private later.

And Bruce wonders if Dick told him about what happened when Dick found out that Jason had died. His two oldests sons were closer than they realized, and he knows that if Dick had to choose to tell one of his siblings one of his darkest secrets, it would be Jason. (Bruce knows Dick didn’t tell Jason because if he did, then Bruce wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near any of his children with Jason watching over them. He doesn't know if he’d even be alive if Jason knew.)

Bruce loves his second eldest son, but he also knows one main thing about him.

Jason Todd has always been a protector of the people and is very fiercely protective of what belongs to him.

 (And Dick Grayson is his brother.)

Chapter Text

“Dick? What is Damian doing wearing my Robin suit?”

And Tim is secretly scared because this can’t be happening. Dick wouldn’t- Dick wouldn’t replace him. He wouldn’t . Dick is his brother, he’s supposed to be his brother. No, no, no no nononono. Tim can’t handle being thrown away, he can’t.

(But when he sees Dick in front of him with Damian in his Robin suit standing next to him, all Tim can see is his parents’ receding figures. They would leave and not come back for months. They never cared about Tim, but Dick has told Tim that he loved him. Dick has to care about him. Tim thought that Dick cared, he thought-

 Drake manor was never his home, but now does he even belong in the Wayne manor? Does he? If Damian is Robin, then where does that leave Tim? Will Dick leave him just as his parents have? He thought he wasn’t disposable, maybe to Batman he was, but Dick always assured him that he was wanted.. He should’ve known better. He should’ve known.)

“Tim, it’s not what you think, I swear-” Dick begins to explain, but all Tim hears is excuses.

“You gave him Robin?! You gave the child assassin Robin? Are you fucking serious Dick?! Just because Bruce is dead doesn't mean you can take away Robin from me-”

“Stop your endless whining, Drake. Grayson has seen how unworthy you are of this position. Out with the old and in with the new as they say.” Damian smirks, pleasure radiating off every bone in his body. Dick flinches.

Tim glares at Damian, and for once, he thinks he understands how Jason must’ve felt like when he saw Tim in the Robin suit after coming back from the dead. Robin is supposed to be the light to Batman’s darkness, how in the world would this kid assassin ever represent Robin, Tim couldn't see it. And maybe his anger is making him biased, but Damian has never been anything but a brat since he arrived, and Tim won’t forget the multiple assassination attempts on his life. 

“Damian, stop it. Tim, it’s not like that. It’s not.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I can’t believe you. I came here to tell you that Bruce is alive, and you pull something like this?”

Dick stares at him sadly. “Tim, I know grief is hard, but Bruce is dead.”

“I have proof, Dick! I have proof that he’s alive. He’s lost in the timestream and-”

“He’s dead, Tim! Your dad is dead, and you have to accept it. We have to.” Dick blinks at his own outburst, surprised at the words that came out of his mouth. 

Tim takes a step back in disbelief. “You don’t believe me? You have to believe me, Dick. You don’t understand-”

Dick’s voice is flat as he says, “No, Tim. Stop. You can’t go down this road. Not everyone comes back from the dead. You have to accept that, this is unhealthy for you.”

(Tim doesn't see the way that Dick is desperately trying to keep himself together, how Dick just wants to cry into Bruce’s arm but how he’ll never get the chance to. Tim doesn't see Dick’s anger, not only at Bruce for leaving them, but also at Bruce for never getting the second chance to actually be a dad to Dick. Dick missed his chance to have a father, and he hates Bruce for leaving before they could fix anything. And right now, Dick just really wants to pull Tim into a hug.)

“Fine, then. I‘ll find Bruce without you. I don’t need you.” Tim says coldly.

He glances at the demon brat. “Have fun with the new Robin,” Tim scowls bitterly as he heads towards the cave’s exit.

“Tim, please. You don’t have to leave. I thought that maybe you could be my N-”

“Your what, Dick? Your Robin? Your brother? Looks like you have someone to fill those shoes. I thought I was Robin. I thought we were brothers, but I guess I was wrong.”

Tim turns his back on Dick in an effort to keep him from seeing his tears. He refuses to cry in front of Dick especially with Damian watching the whole thing.

“Tim-”

And whatever Dick has left to say, Tim doesn't hear. He doesn't look back once. If Dick doesn't want him, then fine. He knew he would be thrown away eventually. (He just didn’t want to believe it.) Dick might not need him, but Bruce does.

“I’m coming, Bruce. Just hang on.”

(Meanwhile, in Bruce’s study, Dick Grayson falls apart.)

Dick loves his family, but they can be very…annoying to deal with sometimes. They make it all of twenty minutes into the movie before Tim and Jason begin arguing about who knows what, and Steph adds comments only to add fuel to the fire. Duke starts teaching Damian about Mario Kart characters, and Dick has to admit that it’s funny to see Damian be confused as to who Mario is. The movie is soon forgotten in the background, but everyone stays in the living room either doing their own thing or interacting with other siblings. And at every given moment, at least one of his siblings is cuddled up next to him on the couch. Bruce had gotten a call about Wayne Enterprises and went upstairs to his study.

While all his siblings are conversing, Jason  sticks close by as Dick starts making braids in Cass’s hair. Tim somehow ended up on the ground, but he’s leaning close to Dick so that his shoulder’s knock into Dick’s knees from time to time. 

While he would love to bask in this warmth that his family is providing him with, he feels the need to burn off steam. He needs to get his emotions out of his system because he has already cried, but his anger? It’s still there.

(He’s angry that his family only uses their detective skills to pry. He’s angry that they all want to help but all it does is cause arguments and bring up old hurts that Dick has tried very, very hard to bury. He hates that they’re either extremely ignorant or too observant for his liking. He hates that he feels this way because it isn’t fair to them, and it isn’t even fair to him. He’s angry that they didn’t notice sooner .)

Now, Dick would normally just try to sneak out, but he can tell that his siblings are hyper-fixated on every single one of his actions. It’s endearing, but it’s also very annoying. (He loves it, but he also doesn't, it gets confusing sometimes.) Dick gets off the couch and untangles himself from the rest of his siblings while offering them a small smile.

 “Just heading for the restroom.” He tells them.

He can tell that none of them believe him (except maybe Duke, but Duke has always hidden how observant he really is from the rest of the family), but he doesn't let it bother him because, well, he is lying, and they are right not to believe him.

He exits without any protest from his siblings, and he’s grateful that they let him go. He makes his way to the batcave and grabs an escrima stick from the weapons rack. Normally, to let off steam, he would just use his fists, but Dick needs to feel grounded and the escrima sticks have always made him feel separated from batman. He walks over to the dummies and unleashes a flurry of moves, some lethal and some not. He goes through the motions, not really thinking about what he’s doing. It has always been easy for him to get lost in his thoughts when he’s constantly on the move. Even in the Circus, his life was always so fast-paced, he never really had the time to slow down. He preferred it that way, and he thinks that’s probably why he’s so at home in Gotham. Even if he is grounded here. 

Gotham is…busy. It’s a graveyard filled with mourning souls and pouring rain, but there’s still the fresh smell of dewdrops in the mornings. There’s still the view from the tallests buildings where the city is loud and silent at the same time. And he loves how he can see the city lights even though crimson blood runs through the streets. He knows that sometimes, pain isn’t beautiful and that people just make it seem that way in efforts to cope. They use pretty words to keep misery company and depict sufferings through false letters. But Gotham, somehow, makes the pain beautiful (not always, though. Too many deaths and tears and a dead Robin’s memorial ensured that it wouldn’t always be beautiful.) He supposes a more accurate term would be worth it. Gotham makes the pain worth it. (Sometimes.)

“What did the poor training dummy do to you?” Tim asks, and Dick stops himself from giving an outward reaction.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice when Tim entered. Well that was sloppy. Dick keeps his body relaxed as he notes that Tim came after him alone. And he knows that any emotional conversation with anyone in his family will hurt. They have all hurt each other just as much as they love each other, but Dick is just…not ready to talk to Tim. 

(He doesn't think he will ever be ready because out of all of them, Tim is the one who would be able to cut Dick out of his life, and he’s not sure he’d be able to worm back in. Tim is the one, who if hurt enough, will never give Dick a second chance. To be fair, if Dick hurt Tim that much then he wouldn’t want Tim to forgive him, but it hurts. It hurts that there’s a chasm between them, and Dick always hesitates in the space between their fingertips. They are in reach of each other, but neither of them can muster up the courage to reach out towards the other. They’re both floating in a suspended space, hanging by the threads.)

Dick doesn't answer Tim’s question, he simply says, “Hi Timmy.”

And Tim gives him a rueful smile in response, “Hi, Dick.”

Dick abhors the way the silence hangs between them, all tense and suffocating. It’s crazy to Dick, how it used to be so easy to be around Tim, and now it’s like the hardest thing in the world. Maybe the worst part is how sudden it all happened. One second things were fine, and the next thing he knew, Damian was in a Robin suit, and Tim was staring at him in betrayal from the stairs to the batcave, and everything fell apart. 

“I don’t know where to start.” Dick admits. 

(But he knows where Tim will start, and he waits to hear the why did you make Damian Robin? Why did you take it away from me? Why? Why? Why why why why-)

“Why didn’t you ask me first?” And Dick’s heart burns. 

“I’m sorry, Tim.” Because he doesn't know what else to say.

“That’s not an answer, and you know it.”

Tim takes a deep breath.

“I knew—logically—that Damian was going to be the next Robin. I mean, he was Bruce’s biological child, he had assassin training, he qualified. I saw it coming, I did. Bruce replaced every single Robin, so why wouldn’t it happen to me? I barged my way into your lives, and he didn’t even want me at first.”

Tim lets out a bitter laugh.

“And when Bruce died, things went to shit, but you, Dick Grayson, were the one thing I thought I could still count on. I didn’t think Robin would be ripped away from me, and I never thought YOU would be the one taking it from me. It was my identity as much as it was yours!” 

And Dick understands more than anything what Tim is feeling. A part of him wants to scream that Robin is his mother’s name for him . It’s his more than it will ever be one of theirs. Robin is him . Robin was never supposed to be a legacy or a title to be passed down. It was just him.

(But Dick knows that as much as Robin was him, it’s not anymore. They each made Robin something different, something more. Robin isn’t him anymore, but it’ll always be a part of him. Because the truth is, he would’ve probably left Robin behind eventually. He might feel bitter about it sometimes, but when he looks at the city where he grew up in, he thinks that Gotham needed Robin, perhaps even more so than Batman. So while he outgrew Robin, Robin outgrew him too. 

He sees it in the way kids from crime alley would huddle close to Jason’s Robin, taking in comfort from the Robin with rough edges and a Gotham accent. Someone who understood what it meant to grow up in the slums. He sees it in the way Tim's Robin would be known as a regular at the coffee shop near the diamond district and how the new generation of heroes would seek the smart Robin’s advice. He sees how Steph’s Robin would always comfort victims until the police arrived, how she would crack jokes to give others comfort. He sees Damian’s Robin, how he would pick up every stray cat or would silently wait in Dick’s shadow, ready to protect his Batman. Dick sees all the Robin’s and their similarities and their differences. He sees his family. Robin outgrew Dick to become something more to Gotham and its people. Robin belongs to all of them, but it belongs to Gotham too. Sometimes he wonders if his mother would be proud of what Robin has become, but in the end, he decides it doesn't matter because he is proud of all the Robins and what they have become.)

“You’re right Tim. I don’t have any excuses, I don’t . I know, more than anyone, Tim, that Robin was you as much as it was me, and I should’ve asked you. I wish I had asked you . But the truth is that I didn’t, and I can’t change that, and I’m so, so sorry Tim.”

“This was my home, and you let Damian take it away from me, you-”

“No! He didn’t take away anything from you Tim, he didn’t. This is your home, it will always be your home. I know you think you’re only part of this family as long as you’re useful, but that’s not true at all . You’re wanted here Tim. I will always want you to be here. Please . You have to know that, you have to.” Dick is pleading like his life depends on it.

They’re both crying now.

“How was I supposed to know that? What sign did you give me?! You took Robin away from me. I didn’t know who I was! You didn’t believe me. You didn’t believe me, you didn’t, you didn’t, and I hate you. I. hate. you-” Tim chokes out, his body tense and eyes cold, but his voice shakes nevertheless.

(Tim could never hate Dick Grayson, not really. He loves his brother too much, but Dick knows what it’s like to be thrown away. He knows Dick knows what it’s like. He just wanted his brother, all he wanted was his big brother-)

“And I love you! I love you, and you left me alone when Bruce was dead-” Dick yells back.

“He was alive! He was alive, and you didn’t trust me. I needed you to believe me!”

“I couldn't believe you Tim, if I believed you then it would destroy me!”

Tim flinches, and they’re both barely breathing.

“What do you mean?” Tim asks.

“What if you were wrong, Tim? What if you were wrong? If you gave me the hope that Bruce was alive, and I believed you, and you turned out to be wrong? I wouldn’t have survived that. I had to deal with WE, a business I never wanted to run. I became Batman, a cowl I never wanted to wear. I had to put on the suit, and in the mirror all I could see was my dead father or a complete disappointment, someone who couldn’t live up to his stupid fucking mantle. And if I thought he was alive, and then had to re-learn that he wasn’t , I would spiral all over again, and I couldn't grieve another parent for a third time. You would’ve made me mourn his death for a second time, Tim. I couldn't believe you, I couldn't .”

Suddenly, Tim is torn between wanting to hug his brother and run away from this conversation as a whole. 

“I- Listen, I get it Dick. I understand what you mean, but I wasn’t wrong. Would it have been so bad if you had just at least supported me? Maybe you didn’t have to believe me, but you could’ve, I don’t know, just gone along with it. I just. You took Robin from me, and then I was all alone, Dick, I was alone.” Tim breathes out.

And maybe it’s unfair to say, but all Dick can manage to say is: “I was alone too.”

They both stand there, at a distance. The air filled with something more delicate, a grief that they never really got over, the loss of brotherhood. Dick bites his lip and closes his eyes, taking a moment to steady himself. He knows Tim is doing the same. Breathing in and breathing out, a natural human action, but it was always hard for the both of them.

“I understand, but it hurts . You- You were wrong to take Robin away from me, and I get why you couldn't believe me about Bruce, but I needed you, and I thought that was enough. It should’ve been enough .”

“Tim, I will always be there when you need me. Even if I didn’t believe you about Bruce I would’ve come if you called. I promise, I would’ve come running.” Dick wouldn’t miss another call ever again, not after Jason.

“I know, Dick, but it was hard to believe at times.”

Dick takes a step towards Tim. “What can I do, Tim? What can I do to get you to forgive me? What can I do to be your brother again? I just- I just want my brother back.”

And Tim flounders for a moment because- “I don’t know.”

Dick’s face crumbles, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop a sob from escaping his lips. He wants to reach out for Tim so bad.

“I wanted you to be my Nightwing, Tim.” Dick isn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, but surprise is clearly written across Tim’s face at his words.

“I- what?”

“I wanted you to be my Nightwing. I wanted you to be here, with me, in the manor, in your home. I wanted my brother with me more than anything while we were grieving Bruce. In every voicemail I left you I asked if you would come home. I wanted you to come home, Tim. Always. I will always love you. I know you don’t trust me, not like before, but please just trust that I love you.”

And Tim nearly breaks at those words. 

(Tim deleted every voicemail Dick left him in anger, but he sets a mental reminder to dig the voicemails back up. He’s sure he can manage it. Because maybe, just maybe he should listen to what Dick had to say back then.)

“I love you too.” And even if Tim is still partially angry, all his anger nearly disappears as he sees a flash of surprise and hope across Dick’s face.

(Tim knows he hasn’t told Dick that he has loved him in a long time, and no matter how angry he is, a part of him despises the idea that Dick feels so unloved. Because truthfully, he always knew deep down that Dick loved him, but Tim has never made it clear to Dick that he felt the same.)

“I didn’t know that you wanted me to be Nightwing. I never knew that.” Tim whispers.

“Tim, if I die,” Dick ignores Tim’s flinch and continues, “I want the Nightwing mantle to go to you. I would never force it on you, of course, but it’s always going to be there, if you want it.”

Tim blinks in surprise. “Nightwing won’t go to Damian?”

“No. I wanted it for you. I’ve watched you grow Tim. I couldn't be more proud of you, and I would rest easy, knowing that my mantle was in your hands.” And Dick means it more than anything. 

He trusts Tim. He knows Tim would make him proud, and even if Tim doesn't take up Nightwing if Dick dies then that’s okay too. He has watched his baby bird grow into the person he is today, and it’s moments like these that make Dick happy that his siblings were able to take up the Robin mantle. Because Robin is a family name, and if Tim were to take up the Nightwing name one day and fly in Dick’s colors, then it would make Nightwing a family name too.

The next thing Dick knows, Tim is throwing himself at Dick, right into his arms. Dick catches him before they fall to the ground, and just as Jason did to Dick earlier, he tucks Tim’s head under his chin. They’re both shaking, but they’re comfortable in each other's arms. He hasn’t hugged Tim like this in a while. Even earlier, it was just a quick, barely felt hug or just a hand on his knee. Dick does what he’s been dying to do in a long time. He relaxes into Tim’s arms.

“You asked-” Tim sniffles, “-what you could do to be my brother again. You said you wanted me back. I’m right here Dick. I know we weren’t there for each other when Bruce was gone, but I’m here now. You don’t have to do anything to be my brother again. You’ve always been my brother.”

Tim feels the tremors that run through Dick’s body at his words, and it just causes Tim to hold onto him even tighter. 

“I’m sorry, Baby Bird, I’m so sorry. For everything.” Because for all that Tim has hurt him too, Dick knows that he was just as in the wrong. 

Tim’s next words are muffled as he speaks into Dick’s chest, “I’ll admit, I’m still a little angry about the Robin thing, but I’m sorry, too. You weren’t the only one who was stubborn and made wrong decisions. When Bruce was gone, all I wanted was my brother back too.”

“I’m here Tim. I’ll always be here.” Dick assures him and starts running a hand through Tim’s hair.

He slightly pulls away from Tim so that he can look him in the eyes.

“Tim, you should know that while Robin is a part of you, it’s not all of you. You said you didn’t know who you were without Robin, but you’re Tim Drake. You’re my brother. It doesn't matter if you wear a mask or carry a legacy or have a mantle. You’re just you and that is enough. It’s more than enough. Not many people have what it takes to be Robin, but out of everyone out there on Gotham’s streets? Anyone could be behind the mask. But no one other than you could ever be Tim Drake.”

Tim lets out a shaky breath at Dick’s words because he never realized how much he needed to hear that. He always thought he was nothing without Robin, but here Dick is, telling him that Tim Drake matters even more. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

(They hold onto each other for a long time, even after Cass and Damian and Steph and Duke make their way to the cave and join their hug. They never once let go of each other.) 

Jason’s gun is pointed at the Joker’s forehead.

All he feels is rage, his thoughts jumbled together in a green ember blaze. There’s a monster thrumming under his skin, a burning accompanied by uncontrolled anger. He doesn't shake, his hand is steady. It ends tonight. It has to end tonight. Jason will accept no other outcome.

“It’s me or him, B.”

“Hood, you don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t get to tell me that. Now make your fucking choice. Me or him.”

And Jason sees Bruce’s decision in his eyes before he speaks. He sees Batman’s resolve suddenly harden, and the flame burning in Jason's chest is quickly put out by the coldness in Batman’s gaze. Jason never blamed Bruce for being unable to save him, but he hates that he’s surprised Batman would choose the Joker over his own son. He thought he meant something to Bruce. He thought he was his son . 

“No.” Batman growls.

The Red Hood will make Batman regret his choice.

“You chose wrong.”

Jason shoots at the same exact moment Batman throws a batarang at his neck.

It throws him off, and Batman steps in front of the Joker as the Joker laughs and laughs and laughs. The pit hums in the back of Jason’s mind, calling for blood, but Jason, the boy who was once Robin, wants to cry as blood drips down his neck because his dad just- his dad just-

“Aww, Batsy. I always knew we had something special. Choosing me over one of your precious birds. Always knew I was your favorite.”

Jason sees green, but Batman is getting closer, and he knows he has to make his escape. He shoots Bruce in the leg and grapples away, slipping into the shadows. Batman won’t follow. Jason knows he won’t. He makes it to a nearby safe house and starts tending to his wounds. He tries so hard to push away his emotions, but they overwhelm him, and he hates that there’s pain and sadness accompanying his anger. 

The green clashes with his blue, a color no longer shown in his eyes but felt in his soul. His vision blurs as he chokes on blood. He’s drowning in crimson, and it feels like he’s digging himself out of his grave all over again. It was supposed to end that night, but the Joker lives. The Joker lives, and the boy Jason once was dies a painful death for a second time. He doesn't blame Bruce for being unable to save him the first time around when green and red meant light and hope and didn’t mean rage and blood. But now? Now Jason blames him for letting him die for a second time. The murky green waters and crimson red match burns in his esophagus. The scar from Bruce’s batarang never heals.

(It takes weeks for Jason to regain his voice. When he is finally able to speak, he realizes that Bruce would never listen to what he had to say in the first place. After all, dead men tell no tales.)

Later on, during one of his quiet patrol nights, he stumbles on a newspaper describing Batman putting the Joker back into Arkham. On the cover page, there’s a picture of the Batman, cape spread out in all its glory and a dark expression clouding his face. The caption reads: “Our savior, the caped crusader.”

Jason laughs, bitter acid seeping into his tone, engulfing him in the rage of the Red Hood and the agony of the boy who died. 

Batman, he thinks as he stares at the picture, is a monster.

Bruce’s cold expression stares back at him silently, and Jason throws the newspaper in the trash and walks away. He brings his hand up, and he brushes it against the scar drawn across his neck.

A monster, indeed.

When Dick leaves the living room with Tim following after him, Jason steals Tim’s laptop and heads to a guest room to hide. Now, Tim is normally the nosy one in the family, and a part of him knows he probably shouldn’t be prying into Dick and Bruce’s relationship, but he knows that they’re both hiding something. Maybe it’s none of his business, but he knows that Dick or Bruce will never tell them anything. And he knows that nothing will truly be fixed if Bruce and Dick keep covering things up. He doesn't know what the fuck is wrong with Bruce’s and Dick’s relationship, but he always thought that Dick was the favorite. Now he finds out that Dick isn’t adopted and feels so out of place and unloved that the idiot goes around collecting injuries. (His big brother is so stupid.) There are too many things that aren’t lining up to how he thought Bruce’s and Dick’s relationship was like.

(A part of him is scared that he already knows the truth. The scar on his neck burns, and he wonders what else Bruce’s hands have done.)

He types furiously on the keyboard, pulling up cowl and cave footage starting back ages ago when Dick was a child. He searches and compiles everything he can find in a folder, ready to sort everything out and find the truth. He pulls up the first video. 

Jason clicks play.

-

It was so much worse than he thought, and all he sees is green.

Chapter Text

Jason’s hand shakes as he watches Dick confront Bruce after Jason’s death.

“I had to hear about his death from the newspaper! You should’ve told me, I should’ve heard it from you the minute I got back from space! I missed his goddamn funeral. Would it have been so hard to ask Hal or someone to send a message to me in space?! We both know you could’ve figured out some way to reach me.” Dick growls.

Jason had always thought that Dick was too much of an asshole to show up for the kid who replaced him. He always thought Dick hadn’t cared. He didn’t know that Dick was in space. Bruce had never said anything all those times that Jason screamed at Dick for not being at his funeral. Bruce just sat aside and watched.

“Why did you let him become Robin before he was ready???” Dick asks.

And Jason tries to not let it sting. He loved being Robin even if it ended badly, a part of him will always see Robin as magic. It brought something into all of their lives, and as much as Jason is bitter about it, about how it all ended, Robin has always been something special. Hearing Dick tell him that he wasn’t ready…Jason knew he wouldn’t be as good as the original, but he’d like to think that he did the Robin mantle proud during his short stunt. He knows Dick was just wishing that he hadn’t died, but his words hit Jason nonetheless.

While Jason is a little hurt by Dick’s words, Bruce’s reaction is even worse. He watches as Bruce flexes his wrist and clenches his jaw. He sees the anger drawn into the lines of Batman’s cowl. The expression on Bruce’s face, well, it’s almost identical to the one he was wearing when he threw a batarang at Jason’s neck. A bad feeling settles in his gut, a type of warning for what he’s about to witness.

Even with what Jason suspected might’ve happened, he wasn’t ready to watch Bruce punch Dick hard enough that it sent him flying. Green wages a war in his eyes, but he keeps watching. He needs to see what Bruce does. He needs to see how it ends. 

“Don’t you dare blame me for Jason’s death! Don’t you dare!” Bruce yells, and Jason tries not to focus on how it suddenly feels like he’s back inside of a coffin, dying all over again.

(A part of him desperately wants to separate Batman and the man behind the mask. Because even though Jason has tried to forget, he still remembers how good of a father Bruce was to him. Bruce would read his books to help him fall asleep. He taught Jason how to play chess and would brush back his hair with a. Gentle hand. He’d tell Jason that he loved him. And so Jason struggles to reconcile the man who became his father and the monster etched into Batman’s cowl. But he knows with a despairing certainty that Batman and Bruce are the same person, there is no hiding behind one persona because they are one and the same. 

Jason just didn’t want to believe that Bruce Wayne is a monster.)

Bruce doesn't even turn around to look at Dick, and Jason wants to scream and cry and rage because Bruce might’ve broken Dick’s jaw . He can’t tell from the angle of the camera, and he desperately wants to reach out for his big brother. 

(He ignores the memories flashing in his mind where he’d break Dick’s bones and shoot him. He wants to blame it on the Red Hood, but just as Batman and Bruce are one person, so is Jason and the notorious Red Hood who has waged hell on Nightwing’s life. )

He watches as Dick struggles to get off the ground, and Bruce still won’t look at him. 

“You were always jealous of Jason. Always. He called you. I know he did. He called you. You could’ve saved him!” 

Jason flinches back at Bruce’s words, but his expression immediately darkens afterwards. How dare Bruce say that-? How dare he-?! He has no right. It wasn’t Dick’s fault, fucking hell, he never blamed Dick. Sure, he was mad at Dick for being a bad brother at first, but he was never mad that Dick wasn’t there.

(He was disappointed and left with a broken hope, but that wasn’t really Dick’s fault either.)

“It’s your fault he’s dead!” Batman growls.

He has to stop himself from punching Tim’s computer.

And then Jason sees the moment Bruce’s word’s sink into Dick. There’s a haunted look in his big brother’s eyes. They were the eyes of a person who had accepted an inevitable end after doing everything they could to prevent it. He watches as the crystalline structure of Dick’s blue eyes become void and fracture into a million pieces. His beautiful blues fade into darkened hues, and Jason wants to cry at the unfairness.

(At that moment, Dick’s eyes remind him of the look his mother gave him when she was high. She wasn’t really there. She was just a passenger in her own body. Almost as if she couldn't believe that she was damned to this type of existence. She was a ghost of the mother Jason knew, and he feels so incredibly small when he sees that same expression on his big brother’s face.)

Jason watches as Bruce starts walking away from Dick, and he begins to think that it’s over until he hears Dick whisper:

“I know.”

Jason wants to shake him and knock some sense into him. It wasn’t his fault! It wasn’t his fault. Itwasn’thisfaultpleasebigbrotherit’snotyourfaultdon’tbelievehimplease-

It was Jason’s fault. It was the Joker’s fault. It was Bruce’s fault.  

He never blamed Dick, never.

(He’s scared if Dick still believes it. Jason knows that Dick felt immense guilt for how he treated Jason, but he never thought he blamed himself for Jason’s death. But why wouldn’t Dick blame himself after what Bruce told him? Heck, even Jason has made enough snide comments about how Dick sucked as an older brother that it might’ve just fueled his beliefs. Jason wants to take it back, but even now, the pit’s green hums in his mind, and he can never really tune it out.)

“I suggest you leave and give your keys to Alfred on your way out.”

Bruce has his back turned on Dick as he kicks him out of the place that is supposed to be his home.

Jason Todd will make Bruce Wayne regret his decision.

-

Jason knows, logically, that he should tell the rest of his siblings before confronting Bruce. Maybe instead of storming into Bruce’s study and decking him in the face, Jason should approach Dick first. But, well, the pit is screaming for blood, and to be completely honest, even before the pit, Jason is pretty sure he would go straight for punching Bruce in the face anyways.

(He never went through all the footage, he doesn't know if Bruce has hit Dick more than once, but he thinks of the scar on his neck and decides that he already knows the answer.)

So before he knows it, Jason is ripping open the door to Bruce’s study and storming inside. Bruce’s head swivels up from where he was looking at paperwork and tenses when he sees Jason coming at him aggressively.

“Jason, what-“

Before Bruce can get any more words out of his mouth, Jason decks him across the face. Bruce stumbles back and catches himself but not before the vase on his desk is knocked over and shatters on the ground. Jason watches as Bruce stares at him in surprise and confusion, questions at the tip of his tongue and a detective's mind at work.

Fuck that felt good, he thinks. It’s not the first time he has punched Bruce, and it definitely won’t be the last. 

Bruce shifts into a defensive position, acknowledging the violence lingering in Jason’s eyes. Suddenly, Alfred appears at the doorway, and he slowly takes in the room. Jason can hear the rush of footsteps behind Alfred, signaling the upcoming arrival of the rest of his siblings.

“Good heavens, what is happening here?” Alfred demands.

“You hurt him.” Jason says darkly.

“Jason?” A voice calls from the doorway, and Jason turns to see Dick standing with the rest of their siblings.

“Todd, what is going on?” Damian asks, obviously eyeing the broken vase on the ground and Bruce’s defensive stance.

Jason sees Cass in the doorway and thinks of how close she and Bruce are, and his heart hurts for her. She doesn't deserve this. Hell, none of them deserve this. But he knows he has to tell the truth. For Dick’s sake. This can’t be ignored any longer. 

He doesn't have to wonder where Dick got his sense of self-worth from. He knows what it feels like, to have someone who is supposed to be your father beat you into the ground. He knows what it feels like to want Bruce’s approval and what it feels like to have that same man who tucked him in at night to cut his neck with a batarang all for his stupid mission. 

And so Jason repeats, “You hit him.”

Dick is cold again, and it burns more than it did before.

Bruce freezes at Jason’s words. The rest of his siblings either blink in surprise or recoil at what Jason has just said. Dick has to suppress a flinch. 

“You punched him and left him on the floor, you-”

“Jason, that's enough.” Dick cuts in quickly, “That was a long time ago. It was so long ago that I’ve forgotten about it. It’s not worth-”

“Lie.” Cass whispers as she steps in front of him, eyeing Bruce with a mixture of sadness and anger and betrayal.

“Father, you-” But Damian doesn't finish and a frown works its way onto his lips.

“It’s… I never meant- I’m sorry.” Bruce says hopelessly.

Stephanie has a haunted look on her face, and Dick can see the rage and understanding reflected in her gaze. Tim looks lost, and Jason wasn’t there, but Dick remembers hearing about how Tim threw everything he had into saving Bruce from the timestream when he was assumed to be dead. Distantly, he wonders if Tim is regretting it now.

(During the time that Bruce was missing, all Dick wanted was his dad, but even when Bruce came back, he never got that. And he was never sure how he felt about Bruce being back. It was a second chance, but it wasn’t. A part of him mourns the fact that Dick and Damian were the greatest, and it was never the same when Bruce came back.)

Dick places a comforting hand on Damian’s shoulder. He knows what he has to say. He opens his mouth to speak, but Jason stops him before he can get a word out.

“Don’t you fucking defend him Dick! I watched the footage. There’s no running from this. I’m not letting Bruce get away with this.” 

Dick has always appreciated Jason’s protective streak, but he hates that it has come to this. That Jason feels the need to protect Dick from someone who should be their father. 

“Jason, listen, I get it, okay? I get it. I know what he did was wrong, but it’s not important.” Dick insists.

“No, Dick, you don’t get it. What if he did this to one of us? I know you wouldn’t be saying that it’s not important.” Jason clenches his jaw.

He has heard this argument before, in his own head. He has heard every argument, every denial, every justification. He knows that it’s wrong, but he has always loved others more than himself, and it just doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because when you grow up with a family of vigilanties these things just don’t tend to be fixed, and Dick has learned at a very young age that you always have to save yourself, so that’s what he did. He kept his mouth shut and dealt with it because that’s what he will do for his family.

(A small voice in his head whispers that maybe it didn’t really help his family to keep something like this a secret, but Dick ignores that.)

“He wouldn’t.” He says coldly, absolutely sure of himself. 

But what if he did?

“You don’t know that Dick.”

“He wouldn’t!” He insists, “He wouldn’t because at that time I wasn’t his son, so it's not- It wasn’t…It’s not what you think it is. He wouldn’t hurt you, I wouldn’t allow him anywhere near you guys if-”

“But he did! ” Jason’s growl turns into a soft whisper, “He did.” 

Dick flinches back, the rest of their siblings staring at the scene in horror. Jason’s eyes flicker to Alfred’s face that is ever so pale, and Bruce, stuck frozen in the center, looks as if he swallowed a bitter lemon. That- That can’t be true. Bruce loves Jason, he knows this with absolute certainty. Heck, he was on the receiving end of how much Bruce grieved Jason. Bruce wouldn’t- there’s no reason for him to-

Dick instantly stops that train of thoughts because Bruce did. He believes Jason. He knows how Bruce can be, he should know better than anyone. Bruce did, and Dick has failed his siblings because he allowed this to happen. He failed Jason again because he didn’t protect him. God, what the fuck is wrong with this family, Dick internally screams.

 At the same time, he knows Cass needs a dad, he knows Tim looks up to Bruce, he knows that Damian never really got a chance with B. But as he looks at Jason's face and sees the warring anger and regret and everything else hidden away where none of his siblings have ever been able to see, he knows that maybe, for once, it’s time to be honest.

Slowly, Jason reaches up towards the scar on his neck and runs over it with a gentle thumbs, the scar meeting his touch with rough edges and phantom pains. Dick meets his eyes, and the rest of his siblings shudder with understanding. They don’t ask each other where they get their scars. It's their way of life to get injured, but he understands Jason's message.. They all know who gave him the scar. 

“When?” Tim asks in a whisper, and Dick can tell that he’s running through scenarios, memories, and reevaluating everything he thought about Bruce.

“I told him to choose between me and the Joker. He made his decision.” Jason tries to say with an undertone of indifference, but he can see how much the words hurt him.

Slowly, he turns to face Bruce who, Dick realizes, is wearing an expression that screams regret and guilt and fear . Dick gathers his thoughts before he begins to speak.

“You know, I never believed you when you said you wouldn’t do it again. You never even actually told me you wouldn’t do it again. You just did the whole silent apology thing, and I had to accept it. I never thought you’d do it to them, not because I believed you were a good dad or anything, but because it was always different between us. It doesn't matter if you were Batman when you hurt Jason or if you were Bruce when you hit me, you don’t do that to your family. I thought you were better now. I thought they were safe with you, I thought-”

Dick cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. Now is not the time to get into it. He doesn't feel like fighting, not after these past couple of days that has left him tired and drained and above all, loved. And this threatens all of that chaotic, messy peace that established itself over the past few days. 

“I thought wrong, apparently. You will never touch any of my siblings again. We are leaving.” He says with an air of finality, reining in his anger behind a mask of coldness.

Before Dick can move away, Bruce takes a step forward, but Cass is instantly standing between the two. 

“Dick, wait, please.” Bruce calls out, and he doesn't attempt to move away.

(A voice screams at himself to just run, to move, to get away from this man . He doesn't want to come running back to Bruce like he always does. He doesn't want to have to forgive him yet again just to make peace in the family. He doesn't want any of this. He wants to be warm.)

“I’m sorry,” Bruce says and turns to look at Jason, “Both of you. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I am trying to be better because of…everything I did wrong to you.”

He just shakes his head, “That’s the issue Bruce. You’re trying to be better because of us, but you aren’t trying to be better for us.”

Stephanie steps in, “You don’t get to be better now. You don’t get to. ”

A part of Dick identifies with Stephanie’s words. Why does Bruce get to be better now? Why not before? Why not years ago when he had no one or when Bludhaven was burning or when Jason came back to his killer who was still alive? Why does Bruce deserve to be forgiven for working on himself when Dick had to settle for absolutely fucking nothing just to learn to be happy with what little he had? 

He sees the understanding reflected in Stephanie’s gaze, and she never told him, but he thinks that this is how she must’ve felt when her dad died. She never got a second chance, but he knows that sometimes she would mourn him. She would mourn the fact that she never got a dad, that her biological father never thought to change for her. (She would mourn the fact that the rest of the bats found a father in Bruce, but she never could, and Dick finds himself pulling Stephanie into his side.)

“You are better,” Dick admits as much as it pains him to say so, “I know you are. I’ve seen it.”

“You used to kiss my forehead before I went to bed, and you do it to Cass now. I’ve seen you make time out of your busy schedule to spend time with Duke or Tim or Damian. I’ve seen you reach out to Jason and not mess up whatever you try to say half the time. But I’m not better. I haven’t been able to work past it, and even if you’re better now, you only ever change when someone dies, when you fail, or when your mistakes are shoved in front of your face.”

He’s surprised at how honest he is. 

“You change because you need us, not because you want us, and maybe that’s partially my fault. It’s my fault because I assumed that being needed meant that I was wanted , but I wasn’t. And now I don’t know what you need Bruce, and I don’t know what you want. And I know you’re better now, but I can’t-”

Dick chokes on his words, but Jason places a comforting hand on his shoulder, which helps him speak.

“I can’t be here helping you become better. I can’t. I was willing to put…the past behind us, but now that I know you physically hurt Jason too? Now that I know you chose a fucking clown over your son? You need to fix this yourself.  I already told you, B, I didn’t know how to be your son, but I sure as hell know how to be their brother. If you want to be better, then great. But we need time, and I’m telling you to let us go. If you’re trying to be better then you’ll let us leave, and you’ll understand why, and you’ll give us a choice to come back.”

Because for all the man’s faults, Dick does know that he is trying. He knows that Bruce really has changed. Even now, Dick has only just properly communicated his thoughts and feelings to Tim over past grievances, so he understands that it takes time for things to change. Just over these past few days his siblings have been trying to change. They’ve been trying to change for him, and Dick appreciates it more than they will ever understand.

(He was alone and unloved for so long .)

But he just wants his family to be safe, and Bruce is- was- safe, and Dick doesn't know what to do, so he’s going to take his siblings out of this situation. He’s going to protect them even if they don’t need it. Then, before he knows it, he’s being pushed behind all of his siblings. His brothers and sisters flock around him, making sure that he’s behind them.

Jason steps in front of everybody, “You won’t hurt him again. You won’t hurt any of us ever again, or I swear I will make sure you never see any of them again. I don’t care if I have to get rid of you or take them away, I’ll do it.”

(Jason itches to draw blood from Burce, his body thrumming with the need for violence, but as he looks at his siblings and how their image of the man they call their father falls apart, he knows that now is not the time. Unfortunately.

But even now, a part of him still feels like Jason Todd-Wayne who just wants his dad to love him.)

“You lied. Never again.” Cass says, just as bold as Jason.

(But she wants to scream at the injustice of it all because Bruce was supposed to be different. And he is but he isn’t, and Cass is just confused. She just wanted her big brother to be warm again.)

“I am disappointed that it has come to this, father. I will not be seeing you anytime soon.” Damian states, and Dick is proud that his Robin isn’t letting his anger control him as it would have years ago.

(Because Dick can see the flex of Damian’s fingers, the subtle sign that he is resisting reaching for a weapon that he would probably use to stab Bruce with.)

(And while Bruce Wayne is his father in blood, Dick Grayson was his Batman, and they were the best. He is named the son of the Bat for a reason, and his father was never his Batman.)

Tim, Duke, and Steph don’t say anything, but their expression clearly shows their feelings. All Dick feels is warmth towards his siblings. He’s the oldest, and he will always protect him, but it’s nice to be reminded that… they want to protect him too. 

Bruce breathes in deeply and says, regretfully, “I understand.”

Dick nods and signals to his siblings that it’s time to go. Bruce doesn't chase after them as they make their way to the exit, and Dick finds that he’s grateful. They’re close to the exit of the manor when Alfred stops them. He had forgotten that Alfred was watching the whole time.

“Master Dick, I am sorry that it has come to this.” Alfred tells him, the wrinkles of old age even more evident on his face after this turn of events.

“I’m sorry too, Alfred.” Dick says a little wearily but meaning it all the same.

He knows Alfred never knew the extent of everything Bruce has done, and maybe it's unfair, but a part of Dick feels like Alfred should’ve done more. Alfred was an adult. He could’ve done something. Done more than Dick was ever capable of doing when it came to Bruce.

“I understand that you must leave, but would you bother to keep in touch with an old man to simply let him know you are okay?” Alfred gives him a gentle smile that is worn at the edges.

And Dick’s heart aches for him. At that moment, all he sees is the man he considers to be his grandfather, the person who raised him along with Bruce when his own parents were unable to. He sees the man who would pretend not to see Dick grab two cookies instead of one when he was feeling sad. He sees the man who argued against Bruce when Dick first set out to become Robin. He sees someone who has tried to protect him, and while Alfred wasn’t always good at it, he tried. He tried, and right now, Dick thinks that it has to be enough. It is enough.

(Alfred mourns the young child he once knew. He never thought Bruce would ever hit one of his children outside training. He remembers how much Bruce was similar to Dick before his parents died, but now, he thinks that he was holding a bit too tightly onto that little boy that he once knew. Because for all the Master Bruce is a better man now, he has made mistakes that Alfred still has difficulty comprehending. 

Another part of him mourns the young acrobat that refilled the manor with light and warmth. The young acrobat who chased away the cold now has that coldness reflected in his eyes.

Alfred can’t find it in himself to look at Master Jason’s scar.)

“We’ll keep in touch, Alfie, I promise.” Jason says, gently squeezing Alfred’s shoulder before ushering the rest of his siblings out.

Dick gives Alfred a small smile as they make their way out of the manor.

It’s time to go home, Dick thinks.

Wherever his siblings take him, he’ll follow. 

It’s two days before Christmas, and Master Dick is sitting on the counter top as Alfred bakes cookies. He had tried to tell the young master that he mustn't sit on the counter, but Dick said that it was Christmas, so Alfred just had to let him sit there. He tried to give Master Dick a stern look, but alas, he found himself much too amused at the young master’s antics and allowed him to do as he pleased.

Only because Christmas is coming, Alfred tells himself.

(Even to this day, Master Dick would sit on the counter to watch Alfred bake despite the fact that he’s a young man now. It warms Alfred’s heart to see parts of that young acrobat still in the man he sees today.)

“Can I help you bake?” Dick asks.

Alfred raises an eyebrow at him, “What happened last time you and Master Bruce tried to help me bake?”

Dick has a sheepish look on his face as he answers, “The batter got everywhere. Even on the ceiling.”

“There’s your answer.”

“But Alfieeeee,” Dick whines playfully, “It’s Christmas! I promise I won’t make a mess.”

And Alfred knows he’s going to regret it, but he likes seeing the child smile, so soon enough, he finds himself allowing the young master to help him bake. 

“Now you must roll the dough like this.” Alfred demonstrates, and Dick copies it almost perfectly, completely surprising him.

Dick catches the surprise on Alfred’s face and grins, “I’m not the best cook or baker, and I got nothing on you Alfred, but on Christmas my parents would always bake cookies with me. It’s one of the few things I know how to make.”

This causes Alfred to raise a questioning eyebrow at the young master, “Last time you tried baking cookies with Master Bruce, you caused a mess in my kitchen.”

Dick’s beaming grin softens into something small but somehow just as happy as before, if not more fond.

“Bruce told me that he was bad at cooking and baking, that you never let him into the kitchen. He told me that he and his father  would always struggle in the kitchen while his mom would be the one helping you out. It was one of the first times he shared something about his parents with me. I thought it would be fun, you know, to be bad together, so I just…pretended that I was?” Dick rubs the back of his neck with his hand as he speaks, blush forming on his cheeks at the memory.

Alfred’s heart bursts with warmth at this child who brought life back to the manor. What a caring heart, he thinks gently. While he was suspicious at Bruce taking in this child, he can see now how much better both Master Bruce’s and his life is for it. 

The young master quickly adds on, “You can’t tell him though! It was fun to bake with him. It has to be our secret, okay?”

He smiles fondly at the young master and agrees, “It’ll be our secret.”

The young master looks up at him mischievously and asks, “Does that mean I can bake with you again?”

Alfred lets out an amused huff, but there’s a smile on his face as he says, “I won’t be letting you back in my kitchen if you’re just going to make a mess here with Master Bruce, young man.”

Dick giggles, and it warms his heart. 

“Awww. Pretty please?” The young master attempts the puppy eyes, and it works. 

Alfred doesn't think  too much about it. Even Master Bruce is weak to the young master’s baby blues. If he gives in just this once, well then, Master Bruce doesn't have to know.

“If you are not pretending to be as incompetent as Master Bruce, then I suppose you can continue to bake with me.” Alfred relents.

“YES!” Dick cheers, “I love everything you make, but I like baking with you. I promise I won’t be messy. Pinky promise.”

He smiles as he hooks Master Dick’s pinky with his own, “I pinky promise, Master Dick.”

Dick smiles a little before it fades into something a bit more somber.

“Do you think my parents would be upset that I’m…not as sad anymore? Of course, I'll always miss them. Even now I do, but just- you and Bruce are really great. It’s nice…to be your family.” Dick admits shyly.

“I’m sure all your parents would want is for you to be safe and happy.” He assures the young master.

“Yeah, that’s what Bruce said too. I’m really glad I met you guys.”

Before Alfred knows it, Dick is wrapping his arms around him, and a smile is growing on his face. Ever since Brue’s parents died, he avoided physical affection, so Dick’s habit of hugging people is something that Alfred (and Master Bruce) has quickly grown accustomed to. Well, he supposes, that both of them have been rather touched starved. He gently wraps his arms around Dick and hugs him back.

“I am glad you came into our care too, Master Dick.”

“What are you two talking about?” Both he and Master Dick look up to see Bruce standing in the doorway with his phone facing them, showing that he was taking a picture of them hugging.

“It’s a secret!” Dick exclaims.

“Oh, so you two are keeping secrets from me now?” Bruce asks with an amused smile on his face.

“You’re Batman, you have enough secrets. You don’t need to know ours.” Dick grins up at Bruce.

“Didn’t you learn that it’s not nice to exclude people?” Bruce winks at Alfred as he ruffles the young master’s hair.

“Well maybe if you weren’t so old then I would consider telling you-”

Bruce gasps in mock offense, “Do you hear that Alfred? My own so- chil- ward is calling me old.”

Dick giggles, “I can see the gray hairs forming already B.”

Bruce just turns to Alfred and blinks at him. In return, he stares back at Master Bruce and raises an eyebrow.

Do you really want to go there? Alfred communicates silently.

Wisely, Bruce shuts his mouth, and Dick, who was watching the whole exchange, laughs bright and loudly.

“You can’t call Alfred old!” The young master says, as Bruce pulls him into his side.

“I didn’t!”

“You just did!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bruce says with a smile.

“Uh huh, sureeeeeeee.” Dick drawls.

“Don’t let him get away with this slander, why Master Dick, I expected better from you.” Alfred places a hand over his heart in mock offense.

“It’s okay Alfred, he won’t get away with it. Trust me.” Dick sends him a wink, and Bruce tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

“What are you planning?”

“Nothing.” Dick blinks, innocently.

“Dick-”

“I’m not planning anything!”

“Chum-”

“Shush, B.”

Alfred watches over their exchange fondly.

Bruce just sighs fondly, “Alright, alright. Now, come on, you wanted to watch a movie tonight, and the popcorn is getting cold.”

Dick instantly scrambles to head to the living room, but he stops at the doorway.

“Wait! Wait! I almost forgot!” He turns around to face both Bruce and Alfred.

“I used to be really sad on Christmas because of my parents, but I’m really glad I can spend Christmas with you guys.” Dick says while wrapping his arms around Bruce and hiding his face in his chest in order to hide the blush forming on his cheeks.

“I’m glad you’re here with us, too, Chum.” Bruce says, as he engulfs the young master in a hug.

“You won’t leave me?” Dick asks softly, his voice laced with insecurity.

Alfred and Bruce share a look of sadness, noticing the abandonment issues that the young master must have developed from his parents death. 

“Never.” Bruce answers fiercely.

Alfred steps forward and says, “I pinky promise, Master Dick.”

Dick peeks out from Bruce’s chest and grins at Alfred, a little sad but always soft.

He hooks both Alfred’s pinky and Bruce’s pinky with his own, 

“Pinky promise.” 

Chapter Text

Stephanie is used to being forgotten. By her father, by her mother, by Batman.

By Tim and Cass and Gotham--

All her life, she has been discarded by other people, and the only time people will ever notice her is when she fucks up. Part of her gets it, you know? She’s a crime alley kid, she’s a useless girl who no one expected to survive past middle school. There is no hidden potential or natural talent covered behind her warm exterior. There’s no ace up her sleeve that all Bats have. She has run out of all cards in the deck and all that’s left for her is a joker.

Stephanie is used to being forgotten, but she always, always remembers.

The bruises Black Mask scratched upon her body never truly healed. Her ivory bones were never set in the right place, and her body never felt the same. Touch never felt the same. She can’t forget no matter how much she wants to.

Words are… a completely different thing. Batman calling her a failure, her father yelling at her, heck, even Dick or Tim pushing her away. It’s different because she’s okay until she isn’t. It’s like she’s on a tightrope, she doesn't realize the need for balance until she looks down to see a chasm beneath her. There are days where it’s like it never happened, like Tim never abandoned her and Bruce never used her just to bring Tim back. Days where she doesn't feel the phantom pains.

She’s in this state of limbo, some days she ends up dead and some days she ends up alive. She’s stuck in the in-between, a constant war of whether she’s a ghost or if she’s real.

Sometimes she doesn't feel real.

Sometimes she can’t argue against the overwhelming evidence of her being a failure. She remembers nights staring at a fracture mirror, shards of glass showing a different reflection. She does not struggle with who she is, but rather, she struggles with what she means to other people. Steph won’t change for others, she won’t. It doesn't matter if she isn’t perfect, it doesn't matter that she wishes she was. She refuses to change for people. Because she might wish she was more, but she does like who she is. She likes her rough edges, a sign of being crime-alley born and bred. She likes her stupid humor that can pull a smile out of Cass or Tim. She likes being Spoiler even if no one else does.

She won’t fucking change for a man in a furry costume.  

But sometimes…sometimes she doesn't like who she is. And that is so incredibly hard.

And staring at Batman now, pain throbbing through every part of her body, she cannot fight the voice in her head that screams failure. She knows she shouldn’t torture herself by asking questions that she knows the answer to, but she can’t help herself. She knew her mouth would get her in trouble one day. So she asks, she asks, and her mind screams at her to stop- she failed- she failed- failurefailurefailure-

She asks,

“When you let me be Robin- it wasn’t just some kind of trick, was it? A way to get Tim to come back? Or your way to show me I wasn’t cut out for the job?”

And she can feel the pieces of the shattered mirror digging into her knuckles. It feels like she’s back staring inside an empty manor with disappointed stares flicking at her heels.

“Stephanie, I-”

She doesn't let him finish, she doesn't want to hear what he might say.

She’s scared.

“Was any of it real? Was I ever really Robin?”

She feels Black Mask breaking her body, drawing blood from her bones and screams from her lips. She feels Batman’s words and Tim’s actions and Dick’s distance and everyone’s disappointment. She feels her father’s hatred and her mother’s love.

She feels the Robin suit a little too loose, a little too wrong. It never fit right.

“Of course you were.”

And it doesn't sound insincere, but it does sound forced, like Bruce, too, wants to believe the lie. It sounds more pleading than it does sound right. It sounds more like something she wants to hear than the truth, and that burns more than she can comprehend.

“Good.” She whispers softly, but she’s so tired that it feels like an instinctive response, something she doesn't really mean, but the only answer she could possibly think of.

It’s silent, and she almost lets it stay that way, but-

But she was born to prove people wrong,

“Then I was really part of it- part of the legend. Even if it was only for a little while.”

Because she was, she was part of it, she was Robin. No one wanted her to be, no one thought she could do it, but she did. Failure upon failure upon failure, she still wore those fucking colors and that fucking suit. And it never fit, but she wore it with pride.

She was Robin.

She can’t think like Tim, can’t fight like Cass, can’t be strong like Jason, can’t be heartless like Bruce. She can’t fly like Dick Grayson.

But she was Robin

And that-

-that matters.

She knows it matters because it mattered to everyone before her, and it matters to Damian who came after. It mattered to Batman. The Batman who never wanted a partner but got one anyways. A Batman who didn’t want her as a partner, but he got her anyways.

(A part of her wanted to be seen as Gotham’s Robin, the Crime Alley Robin, the Robin that showed the kids just like her that there is hope. That was Jason’s Robin, and she wished that she could’ve done the same. She was a crime alley kid too, but she was overshadowed. And it doesn't sting- it doesn't. But she wonders, sometimes, what kids like her thought of her Robin. She adored Jason’s Robin, the one that was cutting and rough and so much like her. Every kid she knew adored the Robin that everyone could tell was from Crime Alley. She wonders, momentarily, if people thought the same of her. If people thought she was a Gothm Robin, a Crime Alley kid, a piece of hope for children like her.)

She is more than what Batman thinks she is, but she’s less than what she hopes to be. She's in the in-between. The middle before the start and after the end. But she is real even if it’s hard to believe sometimes.

Things change when Dick becomes Batman. It is a different connection, and it’s a different type of disappointment. She didn’t trust him, at first. And now she does trust Dick, but she doesn't trust him to be honest.

Because she has seen him as Batman, as a force of nature. The thing about Dick Grayson is that he is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object, two sides of the same coin. She was frustrated with Bruce because all she wanted was a father who cared (Bruce was that for everyone else except for her.) But she was wary of Dick, of how he could change who he was completely just by putting on the mask. To her, Dick had always seemed like the legend behind Batman, the thing people fear at night. Bruce was something else, he was lost and firm and cold, but he was real, he was an inhumane human yet still mortal. Bruce was a nightmare you could wake up from. And Dick? He was a myth. He was the mask. Any mask he wore. He wasn’t infallible, but no one could ever reach his level. He was a horror story that no one could escape. He was beyond the great Batman.

First time she met Dick Grayson, she knew not to trust him.

Yet it changed, over time. He became more human to her, less of a mask and more of a Robin, the first Robin.

(Sometimes she is still wary of him, still on edge. It is dangerous to be close to him. Because she knew that what she had believed about him was true, but he was able to change her mind about him scarily easily. He is dangerous, but he still makes her laugh and coaxes smiles out of everyone. Everyone lets their guard down around him eventually. She is scared of him sometimes.)

She might be wrong, but it always felt like Dick was more disappointed at himself for others than he was at anyone else even if things weren’t his fault. Sometimes he would look at her, and she would wonder what he saw. Because she could see him unraveling, she could see the guilt every time Dick’s eyes met hers.

The funny thing was, Dick would look at everyone like that. A sort of guilt that made people think it really was his fault. A type of guilt that made Dick feel responsible for everyone’s tragic ending. Stephanie disagrees, of course, but there’s something about what she sees in his eyes that connects them in more ways than one.

She cannot fly like Dick Grayson, nor could she ever hope to.

But she knows how to fall, and she’s pretty sure that he knows how to too.

She sees failure reflected in his eyes the same way she sees it reflected in hers. They have the same pain, but it’s more like two sides of the same coin. People only look at her when she fucks up. They only care when she fails. Dick is the same, but it’s also different. People watch him all the time. Everyone watches him, notices him. But they only care when he’s a mess, when they have a reason to put him below them. People only care about Dick Grayson when they can use him to feel better than themselves because he lets them do it, and he thinks he deserves it, and Stephanie knows how that feels all too well.

People only care about Stephanie Brown and Dick Grayson when they fail.

So they fail all the time.

It makes sense, when she thinks about it. She doesn't understand people like Cass or can piece people together like Tim, but she knows Dick Grayson because she knows herself.

They were both Robins. They are both failures. They are two sides of the same coin.

They’re Stephanie Brown and Dick Grayson.

And more than anything,

They are real.

(sometimes)

-

Dick is about to break the steering wheel with how tight he’s gripping it.

He has no idea where they’re going. Not at all. Nope. Nopity, nope, nope. He should’ve thought this through. He can’t just take Tim, Cass, and Damian away from Bruce. He’s literally their dad. And Jason was finally coming back to the family. What if this ruins everything? Doesn't this make him a horrible person? What is he going to do- what is he going to-

“I can literally feel you overthinking Big Bird.” Jason grumbles, tugging on Dick’s jacket to pull him further along.

“I- What? No you can’t.” And he hates how petulant he sounds. Gosh, what is he, five?

The deadpan stare Jason gives him kinda makes him want to hide under blankets and never come back out. Then again, he doesn't really feel like dealing with anything that has to do with the real world right now.

“For now we can just go to your apartment, alright? We can figure things out from there.” Tim suggests from the back seat.

Yeah, yeah that’s totally doable. Dick can do that.

“No more worrying, Big Brother.” Cass states firmly, and a burst of warmth hits his chest.

“C’mon Big Bird, don’t keep us waiting.” Jason says, as he gently squeezes Dick’s shoulder.

(And Dick is surprised that he no longer questions whether he should lean into the touch or not. His siblings have been pestering him with physical affection lately, and while he tried protesting at first, he was just really happy they cared.)

“Alright, to Bludhaven it is.”

Dick’s grip loosens slightly.

(He is safe with them.)

-

They don’t talk about it. He’s not sure if that was something all his siblings agreed on, but they don’t mention a single thing about Bruce. They simply sat down somewhere in the corners of his apartment and did their own thing. It was…kind of nice.

However, he does feel his siblings throw him glances from time to time, and even worse, they all keep sharing looks when they think he doesn't notice. From across the room Cass gives him a small smile. She knows, obviously. She always knows.

“Thank you,” He says without specifying what for.

He’s just thankful. He’s thankful that they’re still here. That they stayed. He’s surprised though, when Jason’s first reaction is to scowl and say:

“Don’t fucking thank us.”

Dick owlishly blinks at him, “Wha-”

“Don’t thank us for doing the bare minimum, you idiot.”

And Dick is fondly reminded that that's just how Jason shows his love, but Dick’s anxiety heightens when Jason turns to him with a serious look coloring his face.

“Dick, I- we need to know. Has Bruce hit you…more than once?”

He doesn't know how to respond, doesn't know if there’s a right answer, but he knows that his siblings want the truth. He just isn’t sure if he’s ready to say it. He thinks they already know his answer.

“He threw a mug at me once.” Tim says, catching Dick off guard.

“What?” Dick asks darkly.

“It was very early on, when I was trying to become Robin. I never thought much of it, not really. It didn’t bother me, I wrote it off.”

“I’ll kill him, I swear, I’ll-” Jason begins but instantly stops once Cass lays a hand on his shoulder, the energy draining out of him.

Tim just shakes his head, and Dick hates that he recognizes himself in Tim at that moment. He sees the way Tim wishes to minimize it, brush past it, even though he was the one who brought it up. Dick is all too familiar with wanting things like these to stay hidden. He didn’t want Tim to feel the same even though he knows logically with the life that they live, they’re all the same in one way or another.

“Tim, why didn’t you tell me?” Dick asks desperately.

(Guilt lingering in the back of his mind because he wasn’t there for Tim.)

“Why didn’t you?” Tim asks, referencing all the times Bruce might have hit Dick before.

“It’s-”

“Don’t you dare say it’s different, Dick.” Jason interjects before he can even finish his sentence.

It was effective though because Dick doesn't continue what he was going to say. He looks at his other siblings: Cass, Steph, Damian (his son). They are angrier the more they find out about Bruce’s actions. Heck, Dick is angry, knowing what Bruce might’ve done to the rest of his siblings. He thought Batman wouldn’t lay a hand on them, not out of kindness, not really. But because he thought Bruce knew what Dick would do if he ever hurt them.

(He would kill for his siblings, he has killed for them.)

He doesn't know what to say, and yet they’re all waiting on his words. They’re all looking at him, but he is a wanderer just like his mother, and his mother is dead. He cannot guide them like he once had.

(And in that way, he is just like Bruce. In all Bruce’s glory as Batman, he was looked to for direction, but he has fallen further than anyone- except Dick- has ever known. The only reason why Dick has seen how far Batman has fallen is because he fell right alongside him, alongside Bruce. Bruce has failed him beyond measure, but Dick has failed everyone he has ever loved. He is scared because they don’t realize how much he has failed. They used to before they realized that they could put the blame on Bruce, but before they blamed Bruce, they blamed him first and foremost. Dick, just like Batman, is a shooting star, a dying one.

Go out in a blaze of glory, right?)

“It wasn’t about me.” Is the only thing Dick can think of saying.

None of his siblings speaks, waiting for him to elaborate. His instincts scream at him to bring up Tim and what Bruce has done to him. He wants to know more, to protect his little brother. He doesn't want it to be about him.

“Every single time…Bruce was in a bad place. And before you protest, I know it doesn't make it right, but it is what it is. Everytime he hit me, it wasn’t about me…It was about him.” He doesn't even know if he means what he’s saying. He thinks he does. He isn’t sure.

“Maybe that’s what’s wrong, Dick,” Tim says sadly,” It was never about you when it really should’ve been.”

-

“One by one. It will never stop. I will not rest until you cannot feel peace.” Blockbuster spits at him.

Dick thinks of the circus that was burned down. He thinks of his apartment and the hit placed on Amy. He thinks of the citizens of Bludhaven and wonders where he went wrong.

“I don’t even need to kill you. I don’t even want to. I just have to hurt everyone around you. Loved one by loved one. You would gladly be hurt, but them? No you couldn't stand it. And you’ll live knowing that all this pain was your fault. You failed to save my mother, so now, you’ll fail to save everyone around you.”

Dick trembles in rage. Because Blockbuster was right. It’s all his fault it’s all his fault itsallhisfaultitsallhisfault-

“It will never stop”

-

No matter how smart Tim is, Dick thinks he’s wrong on this one. It’s always better when it’s never about him.

Chapter Text

“Alfred, they’re gone…” Bruce whispers, voice cracking.

“I know, my dear boy. I am so sorry.” Alfred hates that that’s the only thing he can say.

Young Bruce’s voice is achingly filled with despair when he breathes out, “I’m all alone.”

And Alfred doesn't know what to say. Because of course Alfred will do his best to care for Master Bruce, but- but Alfred is no parent. He hides guns around the manor and still opens the front door with wariness outlining his whole body. He is a man who has only known violence, and he is at a loss for what to do. How could he raise a child when he only knows how to raise soldiers? Can he truly tell Master Bruce that he isn’t alone when the people who were supposed to raise him are now gone? Could Alfred ever be enough?

(Ever since he was 16, he watched people around him die on the field. He remembers his fellow soldiers shouting for a medic from every direction. Alfred can still feel the blood on his hands as he tries his best to stop the bleeding from one of the downed men. It wouldn’t be right, he thinks, to raise a child with his bloodied hands.)

“Master Bruce…” Alfred trails off, disappointed in himself for not being able to comfort the poor child.

“It’s okay, Alfred, I know.”

And Alfred’s heart breaks all over again. Here is this boy, who just lost his parents, compensating for what Alfred fails to say. Bruce deserves better than Alfred, but now, Alfred is all Bruce has. He does his best trying to raise Bruce, and he is proud of what Batman has accomplished, but sometimes, when he sees Bruce don the cowl, Alfred has to look away. In the war, unimagined cruelty was justified. He hates to see that same justification in the boy he raised.

When Master Bruce takes in Dik Grayson, Alfred is shocked. He doesn't agree with Bruce’s decision. Raising a child is a difficult task that will clash with Bruce’s nightlife. It would be better to keep the boy away from the violence that has bled into both of Bruce’s and Alfred’s life.

“Mr.Pennyworth...Where is Mr. Wayne?” Dick, ever curious and lonely, asks.

“You can call me Alfred and call him Bruce, Master Dick. I am sorry to say that he’s busy. Is there anything you need, young sir?”

“No, I don’t need anything, I- It's just that-…” Dick closes his eyes as he tries to find the words,” They’re gone, Mr. Pennyworth- Alfred… They’re gone.”

With those words, Alfred is thrown back in time to another moment where he comforted another little boy who lost all he had.

‘I know, my dear boy, I am so sorry.”

The words taste like ash in his mouth, a repetition of a failure he has already lived through. He despises that he knows the boy’s next words before he hears them.

“I’m all alone.” Master Dick chokes out, anguish wrapped into every fibre of his being.

“No,” Alfred says firmly, a little desperately, “Master Dick-”

Just then, Master Bruce walks in, evidently having listened in on the conversation. In a move that surprises both him and Dick, Bruce pulls Dick into a tight embrace.

“Mr. Wayne-”

“I am… sorry that I haven't been here. I know, Dick. I know that they’re gone, and I know nothing will make it better. I know you feel alone, I know.”

As Alfred stands over them, he hopes for a better future, but Bruce’s words cut him deep. Master Bruce has felt alone for so long, and part of the fault falls to Alfred. He failed Master Bruce, he knows this. Bruce found a mirror in Dick Grayson. And Alfred found a second chance, a way to redeem his failures of the boy he wronged all those years ago, the boy who he let believe he was all alone.

“You have me and Alfred now. Dick Grayson, you are not alone.” Bruce states firmly.

“Bruce…Thank you.” Dick whispers softly.

Alfred kneels down to stare the boy in his eyes, the eyes that remind him so much more of Bruce every second. He understands now why Bruce took in Dick Grayson. There truly was no other choice but to help this child.

“ I promise you, my boy, that you will never be alone again.” Alfred will keep this promise for as long as he can.

Still, a part of Alfred thinks of the war and how even now, he can remember how every single one of them begged him not to leave them as they died, how they didn’t want to be alone. One of them was his age, only 16.

(He will never forget how he left them anyways.)

Unsurprisingly and a little annoyingly, his siblings don’t let him patrol tonight even though they are literally in his city. Jason offered to patrol for him, obviously needing to let out some steam, but apparently, none of his lovely siblings wanted Jason to patrol either. Which is, well, fair because maybe Bruce turning out to be an abuser hits too close to home for Jason. Which, also, is apparently why Cass and Jason stay with him in his apartment while Tim and Damian patrol together. The most surprising part is Damian agreeing to patrol with Tim. Steph and Duke are sound asleep, tired from work overload and patrolling in the morning.

Dick notices that Jason is always in close proximity to him, that if Dick reached out, Jason would be right there. Cass sticks close to him in the same manner. With everything going on, he thought they would just kinda…forget what started this all in the first place: Dick being touched starved.

But they didn’t forget. And now, when Dick goes to sit down on the couch, Cass follows him and leans her head on his shoulder while Jason slings an arm around the both of them. Perhaps, Dick thinks, they were all touched starved. They all need each other.

Jason opens his mouth to speak, “Dick-”

“Wow, this series really is interesting. “ Dick comments, very obviously not paying attention to the TV at all.

Jason lets out a small huff of amusements and Cass giggles.

“Okay, Big Bird catch us up on the show then, I haven’t seen this one.”

And Dick, well, he’s shocked. Because Jason isn’t pushing. He is just letting Dick deflect. To be fair, he doesn't think Jason really wants to have a heart-to-heart. That would be uncomfortable (and terrifying) in so many different ways, but after everything, well, Dick wouldn’t be surprised if he had to face more confrontations.

“You’re not going to say anything? Ask anything?” Dick questions, suspiciously.

Jason shrugs his shoulders, and says very honestly, “Nope. I just wanted to say sorry. But I’m down for skipping the whole emotional talk.”

“Sorry for what?”

Jason looks away from him as he speaks, “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve…shot you. I never said it before when I should have.”

“Hey,” Dick says firmly, “We both have hurt each other, and I’m sorry too. I accept your apology, and I don’t want you feeling guilt over this.”

He does forgive Jason, truly, he does. It’s just that…there are some things that do haunt him. He thinks of Jason wearing his suit, killing people in his name, or all the times he reached out to Jason only to have Jason reject him at every turn. He forgives Jason, but they have so much history together that he isn’t really sure he’s over no matter how hard he tries to be. From Jason taking the Robin name, which Dick knows wasn’t really Jason’s fault, to now, Jason and Dick have always had a complicated relationship.

Their past is littered with violence and pain. Dick knows that he has hurt Jason so much too, that when they first met, he didn’t see a kid in need of saving (which is what Jason really was), instead he saw an enemy, someone who replaced him. It’s just all too complicated that Dick doesn't know how to fix it.

(Another part of him loathes how the only reason Jason is here comforting him is because Dick is a victim. He has tried so hard to mend his relationship with Jason, and the one thing that brought them together was Bruce beating him. He doesn't want to think that way, to assume that Jason isn't capable of caring for him, for thinking the worst of Jason, but Dick just can’t help it. He wonders if Jason helps him because he loves him as a brother or he sees him as someone who needs to be saved.)

Dick can still see the guilt in Jason’s eyes, the way Jason glances at the window to where Tim had exited. Dick thinks of how he felt when he found out it was Jason who slit Tim’s throat. He remembers the anger, the fury, the heartache, and unfairness of it all.  

He moves past it, though. They all have come a long way from that time. He knows now that Jason would protect Tim with everything he has. That has to matter. The choices they make now, the people they become tomorrow, that has to matter. Dick doesn't know what he’d do with himself if it didn’t.

(He ignores the part of himself that says that if he believes it matters then that means if Bruce changes, his change should matter too. It means that if Dick can be a better person and be seen as worthy as love, then that means the same applies to Bruce. He feels himself become bitter at the thought. He knows he should want to forgive Bruce, and he does want to repair their relationship, but he doesn't truly think they can without them reverting back to their old ways: Bruce throwing him out and Dick crawling back to him.

He’s scared to fall into that cycle all over again, to be trapped and alone. He doesn't know what to do. He hates his father and loves him all the same, and it kills him inside. A lot of times, people will say that they regret not knowing their fathers or mothers, but Dick doesn't know what he’d regret more: Keeping Bruce out of his life or letting Bruce back into it.)

“Well,” Jasons says a little sheepishly, “I’m also sorry for just throwing you in the middle of that situation with Bruce.”

Dick raises his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“I was- angry. I didn't think before I just told everyone everything. I mean, I’m not sorry that they know. I would’ve told them if you didn’t. There was no way I wouldn’t have said something.” Jason is firm in his words, apologetic but there is no regret, and while Dick understands, he is still a little annoyed.

“But I am sorry about the way I did it.”

“It’s okay, Little Wing. I understand.”

Dick will always forgive his siblings. It’s who he is.

“Shhhh,” Cass mumbles, “Rest now. Safe.”

Dick smiles down at her, completely agreeing, “Yeah, we are safe.”

“Master Bruce…” Once again, Alfred is at a loss for words.

“Alfred… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Alfred’s confusion bleeds into his tone, “Why are you apologizing to me?”

They both know the people Bruce should be apologizing to, and Alfred doesn't think one of them is him.

“I failed you. Who I am now…I failed you.”

Despite it all, Alfred’s heart aches for Master Bruce the same way it does for Dick Grayson. He feels guilty for it, for sympathising with someone who has caused so much pain but…Master Bruce is his child. His heart will always ache for him.

And yet, Alfred is stern with his words, “You have failed, Master Bruce, but it is not me you failed.”

Bruce closes his eyes, regret and shame weighing down on him. Alfred hates to see Master Bruce so alone even when he deserves to be. And yet, here they are, together, when they both deserve to be alone.

“And, truly, I failed you.” Alfred admits.

Because Alfred didn’t know what Bruce had done to Master Dick. But even then, he let Bruce do so much more that was under the scope of abuse without being physical. Alfred watched as Master Bruce tore down Dick’s esteem, how Master Bruce kicked him out of the house, and Alfred didn't stop him. He wishes, very dearly, that he could stop all of this from happening. He wishes he could give both Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson the life they deserve.

He should’ve been more responsible. He didn’t know the extent of Bruce’s actions, but he should’ve-

He should’ve known.

They’re laughing with no humor. Bitterness overtakes the crowd, and Dick is dead in the center, surrounded by people who were supposed to be his friends.

“Dick you slut ! So tell me, who was better, Dick? Huh?!”

He holds back a sob. Don’t let them see they get to you, Dick repeats like a mantra inside his head. Never let them see they get to you. Show no emotions. They can’t know that he was- why don’t they know? Don’t they see that- he didn’t want- he didn’t know- he-

He hates the way Kory is looking at him, the way betrayal outlines her entire being. They way that Dick feels betrayed himself, but he doesn't fully understand why. Dick shouldn’t feel betrayed it was him who- but- he doesn't understand what’s going on anymore. He just feels… he feels so disgusted with himself. Touch burns, it burns, and he shuffles away from the crowd, feeling too trapped between each body. He can’t stay here anymore, he needs to leave.

He needs to leave he needs to get out he needs to get out he needs to getoutandnevercomeback he needs to-

“Some detective you are! You should’ve known !

He should’ve known.

Chapter Text

Dick’s favorite part of taking the subway in Bludhaven is that little moment - a simple five second interval - where his train car passes by another and he sees it. He sees his life and all the people who he’ll never know the names of, the same people he has sworn to save and the ones that die before he can. His eyes catch his reflection in the other subway car, and sometimes, he even makes eye contact with other people and receives a small smile like they, too, know what it’s like to be searching for themselves in their own reflection. It almost makes his life feel like a movie. Like he’s just some average teenager who thinks he’s invincible and can take on the whole world. It’s a feeling he welcomes to settle into his bones because it gives him motivation, because it proves that even though he has seen the horrors of the world, he can still see hope etched into the shadows.

Here, in the subway, he feels like a normal person. It’s mundane, a routine he has that he tells no one about. He keeps his little trips for himself. He enters the subway near his apartment and rides it 8 stops down until he arrives at a park in the shittier side of Bludhaven. And every time he passes by another subway car, he feels more connected with his city and its people.

There is something so special about being tied together by tragedy. (I mean look at him and Bruce, a bond as beautiful as it is ugly and dark and- tragic.)

Sometimes he wonders how Bruce started his crusade, all alone with no safety net. Bruce has always seemed so out of his reach, and now that Dick is starting his solo act, he has never felt so alone. But this is how it has to be, he thinks as he takes his first step into his new apartment in Bludhaven.

There’s a whole city for him to explore, cascading along his fingertips. A city that calls out to him. He could’ve chosen any place, and he chose a place that is, arguably, worse than Gotham.

(Sure, there is some truth to the fact that he chose bludhaven because it’s close to Gotham, to Bruce. But it was also so much more than that. Bludhaven is a place for underdogs, a place that everyone doubts you, a place where no one care to know who you truly are. This is a place for him to shine. His whole life, he has been taught to fight expectations. Even in the circus, a show must go on despite the performers feelings. )

And, there is truly something beautiful about broken places and broken people like him. Here, he can be anyone. Here, he can bring hope to people who have so little of it. And not the type of hope where people place him on pedestals and believe he can do anything. He wants to inspire the type of hope that the trapeze gave him. He wants to inspire the type of hope that Bruce gave him when he first heard the words: you’re not alone. The type of hope that people suffering from war and death and poverty clutch close to their chest as they scream that every action matters and that they need  help . He wants to bring about hope with action. He wants so badly to become the type of man he thought Bruce was for him before things got bad and then the bad got worse. With every fiber of his being, he wants to help people, not because he has been a crime fighter his whole life, but because he gets it.

Dick knows what it’s like to be living at rock bottom for days on end. He’s going to help people, to save hearts and minds, not just the body. Maybe it’s just the hopeful naivety of a teenager, but he thinks, people should have more of that. This passion that eats away at his heart until he’s starving for more. The way he has already been through so much, and yet, he couldn’t imagine a different life. How horribly amazing is it, to love your life and be frustrated with it just as much?

He’s here to make a difference, no matter how small it’ll be. And if there is one thing he has learned from losing his parents and Bruce and anyone who has ever claimed to love him or have his back, he knows that whatever comes his way, he will always come back out swinging and ready to go. Stepping out onto the street of bludhaven, he knows he will love this city the way Bruce loves him:

He’s going to love it so much that it burns.

As much as he loves his family, he knows this is something he has to do alone. They fought to keep him safe but there’s just so much they don’t know. And as much as they wish he would, he will never tell them if he has a say in the matter. It’s his job as the eldest, to take care of them.

He understands now that that doesn’t mean he can’t rely on them, but he also knows that he can receive their help without them knowing every aspect of his life. There are things between him and Bruce that will remain private, not because he doesn’t trust them, but because he deserves his privacy. He wants to be better for his family- for Damian and Tim and cass and Jason and every bat family member who has worked their way into his heart.

He knows that his siblings are focused on him now with all the recent events. With all the ways Bruce has hurt him and with his touch starvation issue. But a part of him aches, anxious for when it’s his turn to be in the chopping board because he knows just how much he has failed each and everyone of them. He is not blind to his own failure in brotherhood. He just hopes that when it’s time to confront everything that they’ll do it together.

He is tired of throwing it all under the rug. He’s terrified of breaking the peace, but he thinks that if now is not the time to change, then when? It has been a long journey. He’s nearing his thirties for crying out loud. There has never been a more perfect time than now.

And it’s different now, it truly is. Because for once, he has hope.

There is a part of him that he cant shake, the part of him that tells him that he’s a big brother before he is Dick Grayson. His siblings would yell at him if they ever heard him say that out loud, but it doesn’t make it any less true. He’ll protect them as much as he can, but for now, he can admit that this? This is entirely for him.

He doesn’t seek out Bruce Wayne, no. He seeks out Batman as Nightwing. There is something he needs to confirm. Mask or no mask, he has always been Dick Grayson. He hasn’t always known who Dick Grayson is, and sometimes he hasn’t even liked who Dick Grayson was, but he has never been just a mask. He had always been more . Even if it took him a long time to realize it. And a part of him knows that while Bruce Wayne is never just the mask of Batman, Bruce has chosen to become less .

(There’s a part of him that rages against that idea. The little boy who grew up in Batman’s shadow struggles with differentiating the Batman who taught him to be kind and the Batman who taught him to be cruel. Because to everyone who has witnessed the man under the mask, Batman has always seemed like so much more than anyone. No one could ever match up to the Great Batman. It took a long time to Dick to realize that the price of living in the shadows meant drowning in them. And he’s not making excuses for Bruce, he’s not. But Dick has people to drag him out of the shadows. Bruce’s only option was to drown.

Dick would never be able to save him, not when he was 14 and certainly not now. Just two months ago, Dick couldve never admitted that to himself. Every Robin knows the pain of failing his Batman, and yet, he knows that it never should’ve been Robin’s job to save Batman in the first place. Robin is no soldier, Robin is family. And sometimes he hates himself for letting Bruce turn it into something to mourn.)

He finds Bruce sitting on the ledge of the main Wayne Enterprise building. There is some irony in that, he’s sure. Of course, Bruce was sulking on top of a building with his name on it. It almost makes Dick smile. Had this been when he was a pre-teen, he’d probably make some joke about Bruce’s ego.

They sit in silence, Bruce giving no indication of surprise that Dick sought him out. Although, Dick is pretty sure Bruce isn’t surprised because he has surveillance that tells him when any mask enters Gotham at all times. He’s about to speak first, as he always does when it comes to starting conversations with Bruce, but Bruce surprises him.

“I didn’t expect you to come back so soon. I had expected a longer…break from home.” B hesitated on the word home, as if not to offend Dick and yet to not overstep either.

Okay. Way to acknowledge the bare minimum of everything that has been going on. Very subtle, B.

Dick doesn’t look at B, just calmly sits down next to him, feet dangly over the edge, “The others don’t know I’m here.”

Bruce shifts slightly, the only hint of surprise, “Why are you here?”

And any other time, Dick would take it as a sign that he’s not welcome here. Bruce always fails at communicating properly. But this time, he hears it. The desperation, the loneliness that reminds him of times that he asked Bruce if he could come home. Dick has never done well when he’s alone, but while many people don’t realize it, Bruce is the same.

The part of him that is Robin, not Mary and John Grayson’s son, but Batman’s soldier, aches to help Bruce come home.

Still, Dick came here to be selfish.

“I don’t remember the sounds of my parent’s voices,” he starts, unsure of where his next words will take him, “We never had use for cellphones or anything like that, so I have no videos of them. All I have is a worn out photo and faded memories and a lone poster hanging in my room.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bruce tense up. It has been ages since either of them has talked about their parents.

“I know you have videos with yours. Memories upon memories stored in files and photographs and videos that help you remember the sound of their voice.”

He hesitates before he says, “I also know that you don’t watch watch them. Not a single one.”

“Dick…” Bruce starts, reaching for words that aren’t there.

It makes him feel a better even if it is a little petty, that Bruce is finally the one who is at a loss, unsure of where the conversation is headed. Every single time he was unsure of where the conversation ended, Bruce surprised him with a punch.

“You centered your life around their death. And then your grief and loss and pain became the epitome of your excuses.”

Bruce’s expression is pained, and Dick is surprised he doesn’t interrupt. He normally always has something to say, to berate, to criticize.

“I know because I was the same.” The admission pains him.

Because he has failed so much. Despite the reassurances from his siblings, regardless about how much all of them have improved, it won’t wash away everything they have all done to each other. An insect bite only starts to itch more after the initial sting, and none of them could withstand scrapping away at their damaged skin. He hurt himself hoping to wither away unnoticed while also hopping for someone to finally see him and save him. The human mind truly is incomprehensible.

“I am just like you B. My failures-“

“No,” Bruce finally interrupts, “Dick Grayson…”

Dick startles, a little, at hearing his name. Bruce never used his name while they’re in costume. It’s part of why he came searching for Batman and not Bruce. It’s easier to remove himself from the situation this way, to keep an emotional distance to protect himself just like Bruce does, but now here Bruce is, tearing down the walls that he built himself years ago when he first addresses Dick as Robin instead of as his son.

“You are so much better than me.”

And Dick is in awe at Bruce’s words, at how much pride comes from them and yet how much pain is tied into it. The part of him that is irrevocably Bruce’s son cannot suppress the delight at Bruce’s words. He hates himself for it all the same.

“I keep my mothers pearls on display the same way I do Jason’s Robin uniform.” There’s a haunted look in Bruce’s eyes as he speaks, “I meant to honor them. I never meant to create it as a reminder of…failures.”

And now Dick is frustrated at Bruce’s words, “You keep those on displays because you have a thing for emotional self-flagellation! It makes no one feel better that you’re making yourself feel worse, you’re just making us all suffer with you!

Bruce always focuses on his grief and never cherished what he has in those who are alive. Sometimes, he thinks, he really is dead to Bruce. Dead the moment he was shot by the joker. Dead the moment he donned the Robin costume. Dead like Jason Todd, someone who is still very much alive.

Dick continues on a rant now, “It has to count for something that Jason and Tim are able to act like brothers after their rough beginning. It matters that Jason now answers my calls and texts even after all the times I’ve failed him. The only one who is still stuck in the past is you, Bruce. And I’m so tired of letting you drag me back there with you.”

“I’m not trying to!” Bruce snaps, control fraying by the second.

Dick thinks it’s a testament to their relationship that they always seem to bring out the worst in each other.

“I don’t know how to be better. I don’t. I cant connect with Jason the way you can anymore. I don’t know how to get Tim to rest or how to deal with Damian the way you can, and they’re my sons-“

“What about me?! I’m your son too!” The words are torn from his chest.

Just a couple months ago, Dick would be too scared to say those words, terrified over Bruce’s reaction.

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry-“ Bruce says desperately, and Dick hates himself for wishing that Bruce would say you are, you are my son.

“Why are you only sorry now?! Why does it take a couple punches later for you to be sorry? Why are you only sorry once everyone found out and not before?”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s. not. fair.

“I’ve always been sorry, Dick,” Bruce reaches out for him but he flinches away, “I was ashamed. You always ran away to bludhaven, and I selfishly wished you’d come back, and I never had the opportunity to-“

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Why are you blaming this on me?! I ran away? You pushed me away! You’ve had so many opportunities, you’ve never chased after me!”

The words scorch his lungs, pushing all the oxygen out of his throat. It’s one of his most bitter feelings. Bruce chased after Jason, begged him to come back home. He always followed after Cass. Tim and Damian still lived at the manor, finding no reason to leave their home. Why is Dick always the one who ends up alone? Why is he the one so unworthy of being chased after? He doesn’t understand how to be loved. How can he make his family love him?

His righteous anger is back. It faded over the years as he acquired more and more siblings from Bruce. He always had to be the role model, but now, with only Bruce to see him crumble, he doesn’t hesitate to rage against Bruce’s violent waters. Bruce always ends up blaming him and he’s so tired of it. He just wants his siblings and his dad back. He’s sick of seeing this masked man in front of him, a facade of a person, a myth meant to scare you, a false being, a lie.

“I didn’t want you to suffer, I pushed you away because I didn’t want you to be like me! I couldn’t let you be like me! You’re supposed to be better!” Bruce exclaims.

They’re both standing now, the air charged between them. Dick can hear the sounds of Gotham, the police sirens and the footsteps of thousands of people walking below them. He wonders if Gotham bleeds for her protectors the same way they bleed for her. Because he’s given everything to the city that took away his parents. And here he is now, standing across from Bruce and giving away even more.

“Well too fucking bad Bruce! I turned out exactly like you. And what the hell?! Didn’t you just say I was better than you like five minutes ago?!”

There is no end to the frustration the Bruce gives him.

“You are! You are better than me but none of that is because of me!” Bruce exhales sharply, sudden, like he didn’t mean for those words to come out.

And yet Bruce continues, almost softly now, “All of a sudden, you were exactly the man I knew you’d grow up to be, and it was all without my help. You didn’t need me anymore. I was alone. And I lost you.”

Dick’s heart throbs against his chest, beating wildly against the wind. He feels for Bruce. He does, he can’t help it, it’s who he is.

“You didn’t lose me Bruce, you threw me away.” His words are resigned now, exhausted, drained of energy.

The change in atmosphere affects them both. They’re no longer tense, but they’re tired. He hates the way the cowl drags at Bruce’s soul. Before, when they first started out, the cowl made Bruce vibrant. It made him seem in his element, confidence and assurance laced through every bone. A type of strength even Superman marveled at. But now? He looks so weary and tired, and Dick desperately misses the Bruce Wayne he knew as Batman when he was 8 years old.

“I’m trying very hard, Dick. I keep getting it…wrong. Even now, I don’t know how to talk to you without saying something wrong.“

Dick won’t lie to himself, a part of him can also tell that there has been a change. This whole conversation Dick has been waiting for Bruce to drag him down to his level, to bring up mistakes Dick has made. But Bruce has been surprisingly honest and has said sorry more times than Dick has heard in his life from the man. Bruce used to never admit he was wrong and yet here he is, saying it plain as day.

Maybe it’s because his secret of abuse has been exposed. Maybe Bruce is just acting and Dick is falling for it all over again, but there’s a part of him that truly believes that Bruce is changing. Or at least trying to. And more than anyone, he knows that this kind of hope, the hope that someone will change and be the person you wished for years they’d be, is a dangerous kind of hope. Because if it fails, then you’re left with nothing.

“Do you think you’re the only one who has done wrong, B? You aren’t. And that doesn’t make what you’ve done better, but I’m telling you this so you know that you don’t have to make it worse. We’ve all done pretty bad stuff. If I can come back from what I’ve done, then I want to believe that you can too.”

And it’s true. God, he doesn’t forgive Bruce by a long shot, but part of the reason there is a no kill rule is because they believe that rehabilitation is possible. He wants to believe so badly that Bruce is finally changing. He won’t get his hopes up, he won’t. Not after everything. But that doesn’t mean he can’t give it one more chance. He wouldn’t be Dick Grayson if he didn’t risk it all.

He exhales slowly and forces him to really look at Bruce. His hands tremble as he meets Bruce’s eyes, seeing a shade of blue so similar to his own. Sometimes, he cant help but wonder how it even got this bad. How did things progress to this point where the lines between right and wrong have blurred between father and son? What happened to all the love between them?

“My parents would always tell me that being a flying Grayson didn’t mean we’d never fall,  it meant that we’d always catch each other if we ever did.”

And Dick remembers this. He remembers the way his mom would call him her little Robin. He remember his father’s hands teaching him to hold the trapeze bar. But there’s also so much more he has forgotten.

“I want to tell you that my father reminds me of you. Despite everything you’ve done. And yet, that wouldn’t exactly be true because I have more years with you as my dad than I’ll ever have with John Grayson. In truth, B, you remind me of John Grayson.“

Bruce inhales sharply, completely blindsided by Dick’s words. Bruce could never replace John Grayson, but it’s true that Dick will know Bruce more than John. He loves both  but only one of them is here with him now, and he just wants his dad.

“I’m scared,” A four year old Dick Grayson tells his father.

“What are you scared of silly?” John Grayson asks.

“What if I fall?”

“Dickie,” his tati gets on his knee to look Dick in the eye, “do you know what it means to be a flying Grayson?”

“Of course, I do! Only we can fly like this!” Dick beams, fear overtaken by the pride he has of his family of performers.

“No, that’s not what it means, my little Robin. To be a flying Grayson is more than to wear this color and uniform and to perform for people.”

Little Dickie stares up at his father, confused when he asks, “Then what does it mean, tati?”

His father smiled at him, ruffling his hair, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. Dick lets out a little giggle, always welcoming the love his parents freely give him.

“The flying Graysons is a family act. Being a flying Grayson means you’re family and that we’ll always catch you if you fall. It means we love you and that you’re never alone. Now are you ready to finally learn how to fly?”

“Yes!”

He’s a flying grayson, and fly, he will.