Young Justice -:- Circus Blood

Summary: When Dick is forced to take up the mantle of the Bat in the wake of Bruce's death, Barbara confronts him about his pent up issues

Setting/Spoilers: Several years after the end of season 2, using some butchered canon from Batman comics/No spoilers unless you didn't know that Dick becomes Batman... in which case... oops.

Pairings: Technically BabsxDick - but its the on-again off-again relationship that pretty much sums them up

Genre/Rating: Angst/Family/Rated T to be safe, though its more of a K+ except for one curse word

Author's Note(s): Hello! Yes, I know that this is not the sequel to Identity that I promised... but, well, I've stalled a little on that so I thought I'd try some exercises to kickstart my muse. I was trolling through the challenges for the YJ Fandom and came across TheBlueFoxtrot-A-Samba's 100 Word Prompt challenge. I am not crazy enough to try for the 100 words, but a couple of them gave me some one-shot ideas. I wrote this at four in the morning when it was too hot to sleep, so I apologise for any terribleness. This probably belongs in the Batman archive, but meh, I've put it here :P

But anyway, ignore me...

Autonomy noun, plural autonomies: Independence or freedom, as of the will or one's actions i.e. 'the autonomy of the individual'

Sedentary adjective: Abiding in one place; not migratory i.e. 'a sedentary occupation'

Circus Blood

"It's in your blood," Barbara Gordon announced to the back of his cape as he paused with one leg stuck out of the clock tower's window. He ended up straddlng the windowsill as he turned back to look at her in confusion. The heavy cowl covered the whole top half of his face, but he figured that Barbara knew him well enough to know that one eyebrow was raised quizzically at her.

"What is?" Dick Grayson asked, his voice nowhere near the deep baritone it would need to be if he stood a hope in hell's chance of playing Batman.

Because that was what he was doing - playing the role - regardless of how much the cape and cowl felt like a shroud across his shoulders.

It had been three months since Bruce's... since his father's death. It had been a single bullet that had taken down the man that Dick had once believed to be invincible. It was Bruce Wayne that was shot; not Batman, as he had always assumed would be the way that his mentor would fall; right in the middle of a press conference announcing a controversial new direction for Wayne Enterprises. It was glaringly suspicious that Batman had vanished from the streets of Gotham at the same time as the billionaire - making it obvious that someone would have to take up the mantle.

Bruce Wayne was dead. But Batman couldn't die.

It had taken another two months and several altercations between the four brothers before Dick had finally realised - or at least, reluctantly admitted - that it was his responisbilty to take the burden.

When he had first caught sight of his reflection while he was wearing the batsuit, he had been hit with a flashback of his fourteen-year-old self. He remembered telling Black Canary that he never wanted to become Batman - he didn't want the pressure of leadership. He couldn't bear the weight of making the tough calls.

Would you look at me now?

Barbara tugged on one wheel of her chair so that she turned slightly and could catch Dick's eye through the lenses of the cowl. "You're restlessness," she answered vaguely. "The way that you move home so often that you can't put down roots. It's the circus blood in you."

"Umm... okay?" Dick replied, not entirely sure what else he was possibly meant to say to such a random observation. He knew that he sounded uncertain and off-guard and damnnit, Batman never sounded unsure, or hesitant, or confused or... what would Bruce have said? Probably nothing - why answer with words when a glare is so much more affective?

"When something bad happens, you pick up everything and leave," she continued - and Dick realised that he really wasn't going to like where this conversation was heading. He glanced almost longingly out of the window, wondering just how pissed Babs would be if he bailed on her. Most likely: very. "I mean, I get that your appartment got blown up a couple of times so you didn't always have much choice; but the brief tenures in Chicago and New York - moving to Bludhaven after what happened to Jason... Hell, when you and Bruce started arguing, you abandoned Robin for a whole new persona just so that you could get away..."

Dick scoffed at that last one, making Barbara sigh in frustration. So maybe he had moved around a few times (okay, a lot of times considering he was only twenty-four and had made eighteen moves...not counting his circus days) and yeah, maybe those moves had coincided with the low points in his life - but that didn't mean that Babs was right. He didn't become Nightwing so that he could runaway from arguing with Bruce - he did it because Bruce had a new little orphan to focus on and Dick was ready to get the independance that he had been craving since he was thirteen years old.

Nightwing had nothing to do with escaping or avoiding shouting matches - it was about freedom.

And Batman? Well... that was the opposite.

Barbara was studying him with a look that was meant to be concern, but was so close to pity that Dick nearly threw himself out of the window on principle. "You don't bury your issues like Bruce did," she murmured sadly. "I always used to think that that was a good thing, because I thought that you moved on instead of dwelling. But now I realise that you just run away from them."

"I do not run away," Dick retorted indignantly even as he inwardly cringed. If his already stated track record was anything to go by, then she was right on the money - but that didn't mean that he couldn't at least attempt to defend himself.

"This coming from the man hanging halfway out my window." Barbara deadpanned.

Well damn. Now he had two choices. Either jump out of the window and ultimately prove her right, or climb all the way back in and finish a conversation that he had a sneaking suspicion would be about his feelings.

Running away was looking very tempting.

With a sigh, he climbed back into the clock tower and folded his arms defiantly across his chest. Now was as good a time as any to change the habits of a lifetime, he supposed.

Barbara rolled her eyes at him before sobering again. "I'm worried about you, Dick."

"Don't be," Dick waved offhandedly. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Dick," she insisted forcefully. "Maybe you would be, if you could run off to Bludhaven or wherever until the scars heal, but you can't. You're stuck in the manor with his ghost, wearing his mask, raising his son! Damnnit Dick! He's surrounding you on all sides - you're trapped and you can't run and I'm so scared that he's going to bury you. I don't know how you could possibly bear the weight of that suit."

Dick tried very hard not to let the truth of her words hit home, but it was hard. The coy grin he tried for cracked slightly as he deflected with, "The cape is kinda heavy. I tried to get Alfie to let me ditch it, but apparently it's part of the 'look'."

Barbara looked at him with wide eyes; somewhere between a glare and a sob.

Dick chewed his lip for a moment, before dropping to his knees before her chair. He pulled the cowl down and took her hands, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "Look, Babs, you're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I'm not... I'm not 100% okay. But I'm as close as I'm gonna get considering everything thats happened. But someone has to wear this damn cowl, and logically, my brothers' are right; it has to be me. Someone has to be Damian's legal guardian, and it's only fair that it be me after everything that Bruce did for me when he took me in."

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment. "Someone has to keep this crazy bat family together, and I guess... I guess that's gonna be me as well. I can't just run away for my own sanity when they're all relying on me now. It's not about me, or my freedom or independence or circus blood or whatever. It's about them. That's how I can bear the weight of this stupid cape... even if it does try to throttle me half the time," he finished with a smirk.

Barbara gave him a watery smile. "That little Circus Boy's all grown up now, isnt he?"

Dick shrugged. "Hey, it had to happen some time."

Babs gave a small laugh as she watched the former-Robin climb back to his feet and return the cursed cowl back to its proper place. He went back to the open window and swung his leg out once again, before turning back to her and giving her a very un-Batman-esque grin. "I'd better go find Robin before he can cause any trouble."

A siren instantly sounded above the Gotham city soundtrack, winning the award for World's Best Ironic Timing. Barbara wheeled her chair up to the window as Dick stepped onto the ledge. "Dick," she called, her voice amost lost to the wind. "Please be careful."

"Relax Babs," he smiled broadly. "I'm Batman."

And with that he stepped off of the ledge and plummeted towards the traffic below, his signature cackle escaping as his grapple line caught and he swung into the night.

THE END

So yeah, random I know - and I've borrowed a little from the Black Mirror graphic novel, and I completely made up how Bruce died... and... and I'm gonna stop pointing out flaws now.

Hope you liked! I may have a few more one-shots up soon and then hopefully I'll be able to focus on the Identity sequel!