Autumn's Fall
Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice.
Warnings: Mention of suicidal tendencies and lots of daddybats fluff!
Please R&R!
Fɔːlən. Baissé. Gefallen. Nадший. Fallen. No matter the language this word has always brought tears to my eyes. Now I have even developed a tradition. I know I shouldn't do it, I understand it hurts more than just me, but I just can't ever stop. Death calls to me and sometimes I need to know what its like to answer and say "I'm coming".
Richard Grayson, level thirteen.
Robin ran through the streets of Gotham at top speed causing his cape to flap in the wind. The thug was just in front of him. Only a few more feet. A sharp crack echoed through the alley as Robin lept up and kicked the masked man into the wall. The thug began to climb back up but Robin rammed his elbow into the man's skull.
"He's out like a light. What's your ETA?" Robin spoke into the communicator.
"I'm already here." A deep monotonous voice came from the eerie shadows.
Robin smirked. "Thanks for the help Itsy Bitsy Batsy." The sarcasm that laced the boy's voice was slight but enough for a trained detective to hear.
"You can be such an ungrateful dick sometimes." Batman responded and stepped into the light. Robin let off a fierce bat-glare that would cause the Joker to cower in fear but simply elicited a chuckle from his mentor. The Boy Wonder opened his mouth to retort when police sirens split through the air and disrupted the Dynamic Duo's Insult War. With one fluid motion Batman removed his grappling hook and soared through the air with Robin close on his heels. Commissioner Gordon could thank them later for stopping the drug deal but for now Bruce Wayne was late for a party.
Once back at the manor Robin changed into a dark black tux and blue tie that caused his already adorable eyes to become even more pronounced. Making sure that his hair was properly combed back he stepped out of the bathroom and sauntered toward the stairwell. He quickly checked all around him and made sure the coast was clear before letting off a cackle and hopping onto the banister, curtesy of Alfred it was always sleek and polished to perfection making it the perfect toy for an acrobat. He let out a gleeful giggle that he would never publicly admit to and flipped over the knob at the end of the staircase, he had learned the hard way how much that thing hurt. He rubbed his upper thigh in remembrance of the black and swollen injury.
"Richard John Grayson! This house is not a jungle gym, young man!" A British accented voice proclaimed sternly from behind.
"Sorry Alfie, you know I can't help myself. One look at the well polished and completely dust free stairwell and I just have to ride down it!" Dick said with a pout and used the most powerful weapon in the world. His eyes. He thought about the child that had been kidnapped and tears instantly welled into those pools of pure innocence.
"That trick may work on Master Bruce but I will not fall for it, under no circumstances are you to use my hard work as a glorified slide. Now stop pouting and get into the limo."
"Sorry, Alfred." Dick replied dejectedly and ran out the door and into the awaiting sleek car.
"You look nice." Bruce spoke up from the shadows of the vehicle. Dick crossed his arms and humphed, he didn't even look at the older man sitting in front of him. "Dick, are you alright?" Bruce asked, he was confused as to his ward's silence.
"I'm fine. I'm just being ungrateful." Was all the boy would say.
"Oh, you're referring to that. Look, I'm sorry. I won't say that again I promise, okay? I was just-" Bruce stopped talking when he noticed Richard trying to hold back a fit of laughter.
"Got you! You even apologized! That. Was. Totally. Asterous!" Dick said between his laughs. Bruce raised his eyebrows at the laughing teen. "You've gotta admit you fell for that hook-line-and-bait!"
"Sinker." Bruce chuckled at the boy's lack of knowledge concerning the English language. When Dick gave Bruce a 'What?' look he clarified. "The expression is hook-line-and-sinker, not bait." Dick's mouth formed an 'O' before he finally succumbed to his laughing once again.
"Sie haben mir wirklich geglaubt! Sie sollten Ihr Gesicht gesehen haben!" (You actually believed me! You should have seen your face!)
"Ich denke, Wally hat einen schlechten Einfluss auf dich. Warum sind wir Deutsch sprechen?" (I think Wally has been a bad influence on you. Why are you speaking German?)
"Ich kann Englisch nicht erinnern. Ich lache viel!" (I can't remember English. I'm laughing to much!)
"Sollen wir gehen?" (Shall we go?) Alfred asked from the front of the limo. Both heroes jumped in surprise at his presence, only Alfred could sneak up on them.
"Of course. Thank you, Alfred." Bruce replied. The car lurched forward and Dick slowly but surely calmed down. The scenery flew by and blurred the street lights into one long string of illuminessence. Gotham's buildings seemed to grow taller as they moved deeper into the center of the city then they regressed back into square stumps then extravagant mansions. Soon they stopped in front of a large white building with golden curtains peering through the windows. The long winding driveway was filled with limos and expansive cars as far as the eye could see. When Alfred opened the door the air was filled with elegant music coming from an orchestra from inside the Rupert's residence.
"Est-ce juste moi ou est le lieu loin de fantaisie?" (Is it just me or is this place far to fancy?)
"That's just Mrs. Rupert's style, and Richard, will you please speak English?" Bruce asked exasperated at the boy who was now speaking French. Dick rolled his eyes as they walked towards the house. Everyone knows that English is just so hard, why would anyone willingly speak such a complicated language?
"Ah! Good evening, Bruce! And I see you brought your charming foster child!" Mrs. Rupert chimed from the doorway with an overly pleasant tone.
"My name's Dick and I'm his ward not his foster kid." Dick narrowed his eyes at the woman.
"Oh, of course! How silly of me, please come in, come in! We have spared no expense to make this a lovely night, so please, enjoy yourselves!" After gesturing to the main room with people dancing and an enormous table filled with food she hastily took her leave and ran to the nearest guest.
Bruce gently swatted the back of Dick's head. Dick glared at the woman then turned to his mentor. Bruce rose his eyebrows in response, and Dick allowed his shoulders to slump slightly. (Bat-speak translation. Bruce: Really, Richard? Dick: She deserved it, she was looking at me like I didn't belong with you, like I was a charity case! Bruce: We're her guests and you are being rude. Dick: I'm sorry.) Bruce patted his shoulder and smiled as they made a beeline for the buffet table.
As the night wore on Dick had been eyed by both adults and teen girls alike, although for different reasons. The adults where wondering how long Bruce was going to keep a gypsy in his house, while the girls where trying to desperately get the young boy's phone number. Bruce had been hit on by nearly every eligible woman and a few non-eligible women in the room, and by the time the party was over both of them felt that they would have rather gone toe-to-toe with the Joker.
The ride back was silent as Dick tried to get rid of the insulting glares and comments from his mind and Bruce was most likely pondering his latest bat-case. Even Alfred didn't so much as utter a greeting and simply opened the door and took the two masters home. Although Richard would never admit it there was one more thing that was on his mind. Tomorrow is the day. That single thought filled the boy with dread, fear, sorrow, and a longing so strong he could never resist it.
When Dick was finally in bed he allowed himself to dream of them, of the reason why tomorrow was just so special.
TTTTTT-BreakLine-TTTTTT
The next morning Dick woke up at 4:40, twenty minutes before Bruce would wake up and jumped out of the window and onto a nearby tree. He flipped to the still damp ground and ran through the darkness towards the end of the driveway. Parked behind the bushes by the gate was his R-Cycle that was camouflaged under a tarp. He started the engine and took off towards the nearest zeta-beam.
An hour later he stood in front of an abandoned rundown apartment building in the outskirts of Metropolis. Once upon a time this thing would have been a beauty, it had twenty floors and each room had its own balcony, but now its appearance was just sad and depressing, which was perfect for Dick. Dick walked through the rickety old door and began his assent towards the thirteenth floor, at the ninth level he couldn't help but let the memories come rushing back.
Richard Grayson, level nine.
Young Richard wiped the tears from his eyes as he stood on the balcony of the building he had just discovered. He had been visiting Uncle Clark and circus music began playing in the toy store he was in, it was all just too much. He had remembered his old life, the Big Top, and his parents. Dick had run as soon as Uncle Clark turned away and made his way towards the edge of Metropolis. With tears streaming down his small and chubby cheeks he had lost his way, but he had stumbled onto a great discovery. This building. The young child ran through the doorway for the first time and ran up the stairs until his legs became too tired to continue, ironically it had been the ninth floor, the same age as him. Through his quiet sobs he ran blurry eyed to what appeared to be a balcony, then he climbed up and over the railing and stood on the lip of cement that protruded past the thin metal fence. He turned around so he was facing the building, then he jumped.
Images of his mother and father flashed through his mind. Emotions came flying at him at tremendous speed. Joy. Pain. Fear. He was afraid, he couldn't do this.
"Clark!" Was all he was able to get out, the ground was nearly there. Soon he would truly be a Grayson. Then he felt something under him, he thought it was the ground but he was still falling! Then he slowed, and slowed, and slowed, until he was stopped then he flew through the air! His first thought was he must be dead, but then he looked up and saw Superman's face. He had heard Dick call and he had saved him, Dick let out a hiccup then sobbed into the strong man's arms.
When he was released from Uncle Clark's embrace he was gently placed on the ground in front of Wayne Manor.
"What was that, Richard? Why would you do that?" Superman pleaded and got on his knees to look at the small child.
"Because I wanted to see them." The child hiccuped.
"Dickie-bird, please never do that again. I can't lose you. Ever." Clark had to be careful to not crush the tiny shoulder in his grasp, he had been so scared that he was to late to catch him.
"I'm s-sowry." Dick said with a lisp.
"I know. Its okay Dickie, I'm not mad I promise. You just scared me. We have to tell Bruce about this, you know that right?" Superman peered into the boy's eyes.
"No."
"I'm sorry, buddy. But this is really serious, I can't keep this a secret."
The wind rustled the boy's soft hair and Superman brushed it out of his eyes.
"You keep your identity a secret." Dick said hopefully.
"That's different. I do that to protect people, not telling Bruce the truth will hurt you." Clark reasoned.
"Its not different, it's the same." The child pushed.
"Richard, please." Clark began to get up. Bruce would be home soon and he needed to prepare for the hardest conversation of his life.
"Its not different anymore." Dick said stubbornly. "If you tell Bruce I'll tell Lex Luther and every news reporter that I talk to who you are. Not only will that put you in danger but Lois Lane will be hurt to." Dick's little voice came out with lisps through-out but his determination was not hidden.
Superman gasped, was he really blackmailing him? One look at the small face and he knew this boy was serious, this small innocent child was using the life of the one he loved so dearly as a bargaining chip. Fear, anger, and pride all surged into the hero at once. He had no choice but to keep this secret, maybe if he just stuck around the child himself he could keep him safe.
Richard Grayson, level ten.
He had honestly thought that he would never be back here but he had to come. It was Fall after all and he found it too poetic to resist. Soon he climbed the stairs and purposely went to the tenth floor. He repeated everything he had done last year and then he jumped. He felt his parents falling next to him, he felt their love and his pain at their death. Then he saw Bruce's face in his mind. That was enough.
"Clark!" He cried out. Soon he was enveloped by Superman once again.
"Richard." He looked down at the child he was holding. "I have to tell Bruce."
"Then I have to tell Lex Luther everything I know. I wonder what he'll do when he finds out about kryptonite?"
Richard Grayson, Level eleven.
He let go of the cool metal surface. The wind whipped through his hair and prickled his skin. He saw his parents, then Bruce.
"Clark!" Superman came.
"Richard."
"Remember Lois. Remember Luther."
Richard Grayson, Level twelve.
Mom. Dad. I love you, please come back. Bruce, I can't leave you.
"Clark!" He felt himself lifted up. "Luther." He said before Superman even uttered a word.
Richard Grayson, Level thirteen.
He'd finally made it up the stairs and to the desired floor. He was ready for this, he needed the rush and he needed to see his parents again. Even if it was for a short time. His footsteps thumped on the old dusty floor, the carpet used to be red but now it was a threadbare pink. The walls where stained and the woodwork was warped from water. He walked until he came to an old splintered door, he pushed it open and it squeaked in protest but allowed him to enter. The living room was empty with just wood for a floor and cockroaches skittered across the room. He moved towards the glass sliding door, he knew that was his doorway to his parents. He reached for the rusted handle and shoved it to the side, his palm came away stained reddish-brown. He stepped forward, only two more steps.
"Richard."
He froze. He knew that voice, that low soft sound, he had heard it ever since he left Juvie. But that was impossible, Superman wouldn't risk it. Would he?
"Don't, please. Don't." Dick heard him speak again. No, no, no. This wasn't happening, he had to see them again. He had to know what they felt when they fell, he just had to know.
"B-Bruce? What are you doing here?" Maybe it was a figment of his imagination. Perhaps the rushes where becoming so real that he had imagined the man being there.
"Turn around, Richard." Nope. The voice was real. Bruce was standing right behind him, Dick slowly spun around and saw two immaculately polished shoes. "Look at me." Before Dick even knew what he was doing he had lifted his head and was staring into the face of Bruce Wayne.
"How did you know?" The boy asked meekly.
"Superman paid me a visit last night at the party. You where busy trying to ward off a preteen fan and he told me about your annual activities. Now I'm going to ask you only once. Why?"
"I… I just wanted to see them again. To know how they felt. I need them, Bruce!" Dick began to cry, Bruce immediately got down on his knee and hugged the sobbing boy. "I j-just thought I c-could see them o-one last t-time." He stuttered into his mentor's shoulder. "Per favore, non odiarmi! Mi dispiace io non sono abbastanza forte!" (Please, don't hate me! I'm sorry I'm not strong enough!)
"Non potrei mai odiarti. Ti amo, sei mio figlio, e tu sei la persona più forte che abbia mai incontrato." (I could never hate you. I love you, you're my son, and you're the strongest person I have ever met.)
"I'm… Your son?" Richard asked cautiously, perhaps Bruce's Italian was rusty?
"Of course you are. Please, don't risk yourself like that. Ti amo. Je t'aime. Ich liebe dich. Я люблю тебя. Eu te amo. Te amo. I love you. In any language you want I'll always remind you, I love you."
"Even in Romani?"
"kamaw, Dickie-bird, kamaw."
A/N:
Thanks so much for reading the entire story, you guys are the best! Just so you know, with the foreign languages I don't actually know them so Google translate did the heavy lifting for me, and everyone knows that Google doesn't always translate correctly. Kamaw I think means 'love' in Romani but I could only find one website that dealt with that language and I think they are less accurate than Google, lol! Anyhow, I have some ideas for a second chapter that would clarify some stuff in this story but its up to you guys if I write more! Please, please, please, review! You'd make little Dickie-Bird soooo happy if you did, and you wouldn't want him to cry if you don't now would you?