Title: Find Out Who You Are
Rating: T
Summary: He needs to find a way to love her and not have his feelings be associated with the past, of how she used to be, of how he used to be. It's easier said than done.
A/N: I don't often write romance. I don't really have OTPs, because if something's written well and the characters are happy, then I'm happy. But no, Dick and Barbara decide they're going to be at the top of my liked pairings list, and damnit, I'm going to write something for them.
Notes: Purposely and un-purposely messing with canon in some spots. Beware.
Disclaimer: So once upon I time I owned a Batman birthday cake. But unless eating Batman counts as owning him, I sadly can't claim the franchise or character as mine.
One-shot.
He loves her.
Always has, always will, and that's why he's prepared to figure out who the hell Dick Grayson really is. It's a blurred line he's never noticed, never really paid mind to how much Nightwing dictates his life, and how it took precedence over his civilian part. Movie night? Can't go, Robin is needed with Batman on patrol. Date? Can't go, Poison Ivy just broke out of Arkham. Beach? Can't go, Penguin is planning on robbing a museum. Down time? Can't have it, Titans have training this morning and he's in charge. Anything of significant importance? Joker is guaranteed to end up ruining it.
It got even worse as Nightwing and Officer Grayson.
With age comes responsibility, and vigilantes have, oddly, a ton of it. So do police officers in Blüdhaven. In hindsight, Dick figures it probably wasn't his greatest idea to try and balance the two by himself.
But back to Richard Grayson.
He really wants to understand himself, and yes, he wants to do it for Babs, because she's the most beautiful creature he's ever laid eyes on and quite probably the smartest girl he's ever met and he wants to look at her and think only of the now and no longer of the past. Right now, he can't. He can't help but remember the days of Batgirl and Robin, and it kills Babs every time he does. So he has to change. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't doing it for himself either.
He really wants to know who he is.
Chances were that he was going to either end up doing this whole hero gig for the majority of his life, or die in the process. He had no chance at a normal life, not the way he had been raised by his parents and by Bruce, and he's been in the crime-fighting business since he was a kid. That shaped his childhood, shaped how he thought, acted, and behaved. It's an integral part of him.
And Dick's fine with that.
But by focusing so much of becoming a vigilante, eventually he started to forget how to be a regular person. He's not normal, but he is a performer, so it's like second nature to just act like it. He needs to learn, learn as much as he can with how is already is.
The first thing he learns is that likes a little thrill in his everyday life, but his ultimate goal is something akin to the white-picket-fence dream; a wife, kid(s), and a home. His nighttime activities, which he can never give up, would make this a very hard thing to make real.
Nightwing thinks it's a nice dream, but unlikely and probably not a good idea in the first place.
And usually, that's as far as the wishful thinking would take him. Right up to the roadblock that is his training with Batman, to know when something's impossible and to leave it at that.
This is his first lesson.
Optimism, the true joy for everything he does and believes comes from Dick Grayson. It bleeds through into Nightwing whenever he talks, chattering on incessantly about everything and anything. He thinks of disasters and days where things could go horribly wrong at the drop of a hat, but he believes in brighter days of happiness and love.
Nightwing is realistic.
Dick is optimistic.
The second lesson is that Dick Grayson loves to love.
He loves physical contact, he loves the rush of adrenaline he gets from swinging atop rooftops and skyscrapers, he loves eating cereal, and he loves his family, loves the friends and people that fill his life.
It's blind love.
Dick thinks about it, long and hard.
If Babs were to suddenly tear off her hair, have plastic surgery, disfigure herself horribly and start terrorizing Gotham as a new super villain, Dick's pretty sure that he'd still love her. He'd be trying to frantically talk her out of it, no doubt, and probably be willing to fight if she put innocent lives in danger, but he'd still love her.
But he wouldn't love who she was. He would love who she used to be, and he'd be trying to change her. Granted, in his hypothetical situation, that would be for a mutual benefit of Barbara and Gotham's citizens, but the main principal is what he focuses on.
Batgirl was smart, brilliant, and she flew. Oracle is smart, brilliant, and confined to a wheelchair. There is no changing her back.
Dick doesn't know why he loves her past, their past together, so much. He knows he really does love Babs, always have, and her change from Batgirl to Oracle changed nothing about that.
He can't miraculously fix Babs' broken spine, to have her become Batgirl again. It'd be impossible, for one, and secondly, even if she could walk again someday, they couldn't erase the years that had already happened as Oracle and Nightwing. Things change.
Dick learns he just has to roll with changes as they come, but know when to accept things as they are.
Lesson three is a hard one.
Dick has to really let go of the past.
It goes against how he's been raised. Bruce is the epitome of never truly letting the past go, and he trained, nurtured, and fathered little Richard Grayson with that mentality. As a result, Dick is a little shaky on that step.
He let go of his parent's death years ago; but only when Zucco had been brought to justice. He had closure.
He let go of his role of Robin years ago; grudgingly, for Jason, and willingly, for Tim. He hadn't tried to help Jay, and to make sure the past didn't repeat itself, he made sure to train with Tim. His guilt was eased.
To add to the list, Dick needed to let go of his past relationship with Batgirl, to embrace his one with Oracle. He couldn't think of them quite as the same person anymore; Batgirl was important, but not as much as Oracle, and it served no point to remember the former when he had the latter.
So Dick, alone on windy night, buries a small, yellow-painted batarang in the Wayne Manor graveyard. He places it where he's certain it won't be accidentally dug up or disturbed, and places a few flowers by it. Symbolically, it's enough.
Dick lets her go.
Barbara Gordon-Batgirl is gone.
He knocks on the door a few times.
He's nervous and happy, and both of them together makes a funny feeling inside, like he's got a bunch of fragile, old, beautiful pictures on display while someone's playing racquetball in the same room. Hit or miss. Either everything breaks, or he has a fun game where there are no shattered pieces left on the floor.
The door opens, and Barbara Gordon is there, looking surprised and overworked, like usual.
Dick sticks his hand out and says the words he's been practicing and spending a year away from Gotham and Blüdhaven to make true.
"Hi. I'm Dick Grayson. Nice to meet you."
Barbara's mouth curves upward into a beautiful smile.
Fin.