It's a new day.
One month ago, Dick Grayson, alias Nightwing, lost the woman he loved twice within a week. First, she'd faked death to protect herself. Now, she'd died to protect him. Harley Quinn drew her last breath in his arms, and taken his heart to her grave. As well as her secret.
The first time that she'd 'died', Dick had lost his head. His family had watched as he'd spiraled out of control, drowning in grief and loss. Now that she was gone for good, Dick may repeat the same actions. His family watches him carefully, but the war wages on.
The Joker had gotten away.
She was pronounced dead.
The Batman family resumed their normal routines, and went their separate ways.
Damian, Bruce, and Selina returned to Wayne Manor.
Tim went back to the Teen Titans for a while.
Jason dropped off the face of the Earth.
Dick hadn't seen Barbara in a while, but he was sure she was doing just fine on her own. Every now and then, Batgirl would be in the news, so he assumed that she was doing all right. He put a wingding on the table, and then picked up another, starting to sharpen it.
Will had returned to the force, but he was changed. The scars around his lip had faded almost completely, but when he blinked Dick could still see the pinpricks where his eyes had been sewn shut. Dick's jaw clenched furiously.
Knock knock knock.
Dick glanced up from the kitchen table as he was re-packing the wingdings in his new, slimmer pocketed gloves. He stared at the front door for a moment, and then looked back down at the table. The pounding sounded once more.
"One minute!" Dick called, standing and walking to the door. He opened it just a crack, examined his guest, and then let Tim into the apartment. "Want anything?" he asked politely, stepping back into the kitchen. Tim followed, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his navy blue blazer.
"Nah, I'm good."
"You sure?" Dick asked, glancing at him from the fridge as he pulled out a beer.
"Yeah. I thought you didn't drink?" Tim mused, watching him. Dick raised an eyebrow as he popped the lid off of the bottle against the countertop. "Okay," Tim muttered in surrender, leaning against the doorjamb of the kitchen.
"So what brings you here?" Dick asked. Tim eyed his bare, bruised and expertly bandaged torso. Dick looked like he was well rested, well fed, and relatively well taken care of besides the scrapes and bruises.
"I thought about lying just now, but really, Bruce sent me to check up on you. He wanted to know how you were doing since…"
"Yeah." Dick took advantage of Tim's pause and walked back to the table. Tim glanced down at it's scratched surface and whistled, admiring the array of weaponry.
"I like it," he said, straightening up and running a hand along the sharp, angular stripe on the chest of Dick's new Nightwing uniform. The stripe that ran across his chest and down his arms, once electric blue, was now a deep red.
"I felt like a change," Dick shrugged, sitting back down at the table and placing his beer next to a wingding.
"So you're ok, then?" Tim asked, slowly sliding into the seat across from Dick. He watched him carefully. Dick bit his lip and then nodded slowly.
"...I think I am."
"Last time this happened, you went berserk."
"Yes," Dick agreed. "And I learned from that experience. I'm okay."
Tim looked down sadly.
"'What happened?'" Dick repeated, looking up at him brokenly. Tim closed his eyes. It was unbearable to see his mentor, his role model, so destroyed at heart.
"Dick… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Tim replied, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. Dick closed his eyes, unable to believe that this was happening again.
"What?" he breathed weakly, barely even fighting acceptance anymore. Tim said the only thing that came to mind.
"She's gone. God's taken her home." He whispered.
"Why is he taking her home alone?" Dick choked, tears spilling over his Nightwing mask and down his bloodied cheek, dripping from his chin and onto the blue stripe across his chest.
"I hope you're okay," Tim sighed. Dick smiled and nudged him under the table with his foot, so he would look up.
"I can figure things out. I've accepted it. In the meantime… I can go to work in the day, get a little bit of sleep, and then go to work at nightfall. Tell Batman that I just need some time to do my own thing." Dick said, taking a drink of his beer. His brother looked at the array of stealth weaponry and technology laid out on the table.
"Okay. I'll tell him." Tim sighed and Dick looked at him seriously.
"If I get out of control again, one of you has to stop me," he told him, and Tim smiled.
"I'll sic Damian on you. He'll drag your ass back to the Batcave for a proper punishment," he said. Dick snorted, but Tim grew serious again. "No one has seen you in an entire month, Dick. We are all worried about you. With the new uniform you don't have a homing beacon in it, and you never even try to keep in touch. Just come by the mansion. I'm staying there for a couple of days because Bruce asked me to. Just stop in and say hi so he stops worrying and pestering me about it, okay? That's all I'm asking."
Dick looked down at the beer bottle in his hands. "Yeah, I'll drop by. But later. I was about to head out."
"It's midday, Dick," Tim said pointedly.
"Just because bats are afraid of the light doesn't mean I have to be. I work the night shift this week, so I have to be out during the day."
"You don't have to be out at all. You're gonna run yourself into the ground, Dick." Tim stood.
"I told you. I'm as healthy as ever. I'm okay, Tim." There's that word again. You're 'okay'.
"Come back to the Manor with me. Now, don't tell me you'll come and then brush it off later. Come with me now." Tim insisted. Dick sighed.
"All right. Let me get dressed and I'll meet you down by your car." He finally complied, walking back to his bedroom as Tim stepped out the front door.
When Dick and Tim arrived at Wayne Manor, the blazing heat of summer made the air outside feel thick and heavy. Once inside, however, the heat was kept at bay by the thick stone walls and the air conditioning. Alfred greeted them at the door.
"Master Tim." He nodded. "Master Dick, good to see you again. You look well."
"I feel good, thank you." He replied, and for the first time this month, he was truly honest about it. "It's nice to see you too, Al. Where's Bruce?"
"In the parlor, Sir. I'll bring some lemonade." Alfred smiled and walked away. Tim and Dick walked into the parlor, and the conversation abruptly stopped. Selina sat on the couch, and another man with glasses and a suit sat opposite her; Bruce was standing by the windows, his hands in his pockets.
"Dick," Bruce said surprised. He glanced at Tim before returning his attention back. "How are you?"
"I'm just fine," Dick smiled a little. "Been a while, Bruce." His eyes settled on the broad- shouldered, bespectacled man on the sofa.
"It has," Bruce agreed, and then stepped forward. "Sorry. Dick, this is a friend, Clark Kent. Clark, this is the one I was telling you about."
Clark stood and shook Dick's hand as he looked between the two of them. "All good things, I hope?"
"Of course, Dick," Clark smiled, and then tripped over the coffee table, stumbling back into his seat on the sofa. Dick raised an eyebrow and looked at Bruce.
"Sorry," he frowned. "You can't be in here. We're discussing business that doesn't concern you," Bruce said curtly. Dick nodded.
"Of course. Is Damian upstairs?"
"I think so," Bruce replied.
"I'll go and look for him, then," Dick smiled. "Nice meeting you, Mr. Kent." He walked out with Tim as Alfred approached them with a tray of lemonade in glasses. Dick took one.
"I'm going to go hang back here a while," Tim mumbled, taking a glass of lemonade. "Damian and I haven't been getting along… worse than usual."
Dick took another glass of lemonade for Damian and went up the stairs. "Damian?" he called and then went into the boy's room. Damian sat cross-legged at his desk and quickly flipped his sketchbook closed as Dick entered. Alfred the cat was draped over his shoulders, and Titus lay wound around his chair, asleep.
"Don't you knock, Richard?" he demanded. Dick smiled and set the glass of lemonade on his desk.
"How've you been, Damian?" Dick asked, leaning against the wall after closing the door behind him.
"I'm fine," he snapped. "I believe the family consensus is that you are the one to be worried about." Dick smirked and then walked to his bed, dropping his empty lemonade glass on the bedside table and flopping down on the covers.
"Is that so?" Dick mused, staring at the ceiling.
"Yes, and given your track record with heartbreak, I am inclined to agree." Damian pulled his cat into his arms. Dick smiled to himself.
"I'll be fine, Damian, thanks for asking." He mumbled and put his arms behind his head.
"I didn't ask," Damian commented drily.
"I know you didn't. I'm telling you, though, I'll be okay." Dick smiled, closing his eyes. Okay.
"Of course you will. It would be shameful to all Nightwing has accomplished if this is what broke you." Damian scratched behind Alfred's ears as the cat purred. Dick couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud.
"It would, wouldnt it?" he snorted. It all almost seemed silly, now. "But you've never been in love, Damian. Don't be so harsh a judge."
"No I haven't," he said with distaste, "but there are plenty of prisoners in Arkham if I wish to suffer through it."
"Damn, kid," Dick frowned. "That's a little harsh. What about the girl you've been texting, hmm? What about her?"
"I can assure you it is nothing romantic." Damian refrained from rolling his eyes. "And who said I am texting a girl?"
"You just did. Tim told me, after he hacked your phone, but you just confirmed it. Just because I don't see you for a month doesn't mean I don't keep in touch with at least one of you." Dick smiled, sitting up and looking at Damian.
"Tim did what?" Damian demanded, eye narrowing.
"Told me you're texting a girl. So who is she?" Dick smiled.
"He hacked my phone?" Damian hissed. "He is dead."
"Don't," Dick warned. "As long as I'm here, I'll knock you both around until you stop fighting. Have you guys heard from Jason? I haven't…"
"Not really." Damian shrugged. "But I get the impression that while you may be currently down in romance, he is quite the opposite." Damian smiled wickedly. "Or at least he is trying."
Dick's lip twitched and he looked at Damian curiously. "Oh? What have we found out?"
"While I may not agree with the apparent fascination around here with the darker scum life type of women, he could do worse than Poison Ivy I suppose." Damian glanced down at the cat stretched out in his arms. Dick whistled slowly.
"That's a bad idea. I mean can he even touch her? Isn't she poisonous? How would they…" Dick shook his head vigorously. "Never mind. Damian, do you know what's going on down there? Why did Bruce say we couldn't be in there?"
"I haven't the faintest idea. Why should I care?" Damian asked, bored. Dick smiled.
"Come on, lets go find out," he got up from the bed.
"Do you want to anger Father on your first visit in a month?"
"It's been a month since he was angry at me. Seems like too long. Now come on. Whoever gets caught buys the other one lunch." Dick grinned, tugging Damian out of his chair as the cat slid out of his arms.
"Why do you insist on making bets you'll lose?" Damian smirked.
"Because it's been a while since I had lunch with my brother," Dick elbowed him, and they walked out into the hallway toward the grand staircase. The east doors of the parlor lay just to the right of the stairs, and the south doors were down another hallway. "Which door do you want?" he asked, glancing at Damian.
"South," he retorted, already walking away. Dick smiled and crept silently to the east doors, crouching at the keyhole and listening.
"...and you know I don't question you often," Clark was saying, "but are you sure Bruce?"
"Yes," Bruce's voice carried strongly through the door. "He may still be a little rough, but he has more than proved himself... what is it?"
"We have company," Clark said, sounding amused. Dick inhaled sharply and turned from the door, just as Bruce opened it.
"You know what Clark? Maybe you're right." Bruce glared down at him. "He still has a lot to learn."
"I- what!? What are you talking about?" Dick asked, taken aback. You owe Damian lunch.
"No, it's alright, Bruce. The boy is just curious." Clark replied. Bruce sighed.
"You may as well come in." He turned and left Dick standing there, returning to his spot by Selina. Dick slowly entered the room, sitting down in the armchair between the sofas. Selina smiled reassuringly at him, a hand on Bruce's leg. Clark wordlessly nodded at the opposite door, and Dick bit his lip. Bruce got up and opened the door just as Damian scrambled away down the hall. Closing it, Bruce once again sank onto the sofa beside Selina. The three of them looked at Dick.
"Why do I suddenly feel like a kid in the principal's office?" he asked, looking between them.
"Don't be ridiculous," Bruce snapped. Selina shot him a look. "I mean… Dick. I know that you've been through a lot recently," he cleared his throat, "and I know I haven't said it, but I'm proud with how you've handled everything."
Dick smiled, trying to remain calm and cool despite how giddy the praise made him feel. "Thank you, Bruce."
"I know you have been fighting to be seen as an equal for a long time now, and I'm sorry I haven't treated you that way," Bruce told him quietly. Selina put a hand on his shoulder and smiled up at him as Clark glanced between him and Dick.
"It's all right Bruce, I don't need an apology to forgive you for it," he smiled a little. "You're kinda just like that. After thirteen years, I've gotten used to it."
Bruce sighed. "Dick…" He paused. "I've talked to Wonder Woman and Superman. I think you're ready to join the League."
Dick straightened in his seat. "You- really? I thought I was too young. I thought I wasn't 'qualified' enough to meet League standards?" He looked at Bruce in shock.
"You're ready," Bruce said, sure. Dick sat back slowly.
"This is all I want. This is all I've ever wanted. Ever since I started the Teen Titans… I started that team because I wanted to be like you, Bruce. I wanted to be a leader. I didn't want to take orders anymore. And I…" Dick looked down as he trailed off, thinking of everything that had happened. Thinking of Her. "That's not what I want anymore. I'm here in your place, Bruce. The League needs you more, and when they need you, Gotham needs me."
"Dick, I…" Bruce was stunned. "Are you sure?" he finally asked.
"I'm sure," he agreed, nodding. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to decline."
"I can't say that I agree with your decision, but I will accept it," Bruce told him, meeting his eyes with a half smile. Dick nodded gratefully, running a hand through his hair and pushing his bangs back from his forehead.
"Thank you for the offer," he said, standing. Clark stood as he did and shook Dick's hand, nodding.
"You would have made a fine addition, Son, but you make your own decisions. I respect that."
Dick nodded a short thanks before leaving the room. Damian ran up to him in the hallway. "What was that about?"
Dick shrugged. "Just some stuff. They want me to join the Justice League." He grinned. Damian's nose scrunched up in disgust.
"You didn't-"
"-of course not," Dick smiled.
"Good. The Justice League is the biggest bunch of pretentious-"
"-I know," Dick cut Damian off again, putting an arm around his shoulder as he steered him toward the door. "I think the Batman family is a lot better, too. I owe you lunch."