Thanks so much to Sophia the Scribe, Ileana Mackenzie Collins, andShybugbatty for the support! (And yes! This story was originally, and still is, hosted by AO3)

Batman and related characters © DC Comics
story © RenaRoo

Fathers and Sons
Chapter Three: The Survivors

Black Bat watched from the shadows as her former mentor led the men in well-tailored suits to her office. She read the minute movements of their muscles like a delicate ballet.

The men were authoritative. Confident. While they were alert for attack and surprise, their mannerisms spoke to a confidence that the daylight spared them from real concern. Bats didn't fly in the sun. They wanted something from Barbara and were more amused than intimidated that she was upset with her orders. Her imminent yelling would be little more than venting for her because they were well hidden behind something bigger than the two of them.

Barbara - Babs - Oracle - was too familiar to require a full examination from Cass' judging eye. The commissioner was deeply upset by the events of the evening, the abuse of power currently handed to her, and by the pompous zeal of the men in suits. It reminded Black Bat of when a bird had flown just out of the reach of a cat.

Cassandra smirked. Barbara was a cat about to eat well.

When the doors of the office closed, the Black Bat gracefully shifted from shadow to shadow, up the ceiling, and into an air duct without so much as a squeak from the cabinet she had climbed to do so.

The GCPD bustled beneath her as she quietly maneuvered to the interrogation room where the boy sat, alone and quiet.

He was so sad. And angry. The emotions fed into each other loudly as Black Bat thoroughly examined him. While it reminded her of so many others in her family, she could see how the young boy's feelings were unabated. They were not suppressed by calculations or training.

In a way, it made Cassandra even more saddened to know the type of grief ahead for the boy.

That would be the excuse she would use later for reaching from the ceiling expertly, unplugging the camera examining the boy coldly, and dropping to the floor.

Her family - especially Bruce, Batman - often told her that while her methods were uniquely her own and contradicted much of their own methodology, they trusted her judgment.

Cass hoped they would continue to feel that way as she stepped enough out of the shadows to catch the boy's attention.

The young boy stiffened, eyes wide as saucers as he turned quickly to face her. He looked almost haunted by her sudden appearance, but it quickly faded into a neutral face as his eyes locked onto her chest - to the family emblem.

"Bat… girl?" the boy said, voice weak as he fumbled over his own thoughts. He was confused, lost.

Alone.

"Close," Black Bat said as she neared cautiously.

The boy watched her warily, shoulders trembling only slightly. "Wh-what do you want?"

"To say," she said gently before reaching forward with her hand and placing it tenderly over the boy's heart. "You are not… alone. We will help. We'll find him. He will pay."

Hearing that seemed to cause only more confusion. The boy tilted his head and then glanced down to her golden bat again. "My… my mom always asked… why bats?"

It was a question Cassandra had never thought of before. She tilted her head in return, remembered what Bruce, her father had said about bats. "They're… good survivors."

This was not an acceptable answer, she could see it in the boy's eyes. But the strangeness of the entire situation seemed to negate a lot and he frowned. "If you're not Batgirl… who are you?"

"Black Bat," she responded confidently. "Or Bat."

"Oh," he said, drawing a breath and then looking at her in the eyes. "I'm Terry."

She nodded.

"You're going to find the guy who killed my parents?" he pressed. "What will I do?"

Cassandra felt boxed. She instinctively motioned a sign with her hands, to express herself more completely, only to be met with a blank stare from Terry. Her words failed to express what she knew how to say in her mind, but for this sad boy she would try her hardest to do so anyway.

Because she knew from looking at him what he needed to hear.

She placed both her hands on his shoulders and, after allowing his tenseness to pass, she pulled him into a hug.

"Live," she said soothingly. "It is what… all parents want for children. Don't forget. Not alone. You. You are loved."

Almost immediately, Terry became limp against her. Her words had drained some of the hate and hurt from him and it was all she could have wished for. Dick was better at this.

After releasing Terry, she sat on the ground by him, silently providing company until the door began to open.

Black Bat kept to the shadows, re-plugging the camera and keeping vigil from the air duct. She felt confident that Batman - Dick's Batman - would understand why, despite being only told to watch the boy, it was important to step in. Her family trusted her judgment. Dick told her to step in and rescue the boy when he needed saving.

She was only following orders.


It was almost three in the afternoon when Dick returned to Central. He was met with similarly grim faces and he couldn't help but see why Barbara was already drawing comparisons to the Wayne murders.

Dick Grayson had been serving as an officer for the GCPD for some time, weathered a few international news-worthy crisis and scandals. It was par for the course for an angry, hungry city, but he had never once seen the morale of his fellow officers so shaken. Suddenly cops who were as dirty as the scum of Gotham sewers looked as if their own grandmothers were on the slab in the basement.

Even the hardest detectives never liked when the city dug her claws into the kids of the city.

Him reporting to Central was a bit of a stalling tactic this time, though. Bruce detected that something about the case wasn't "on the books" just yet. The situation, gruesome as it was, simply didn't make too much sense.

A copy cat after nearly half a century? Why? And why were the Network files being placed under extra locks?

Though Dick had let the Commissioner know that their shared mentor had a habit of accessing the files, that would not have been enough for her to change the safety protocols and put even more protection on the server. Not yet, in any case.

Something else was going on. Dick was supposed to get to the bottom of it.

Only five minutes after entering the complex, the current Batman got his answer in the form of a "familiar" unfamiliar face standing guard next to the second Commissioner Gordon's door. They locked eyes only momentarily just before the door flung open.

"Grayson!" Barbara snapped at him, waving him into the office.

He blinked, feigning cluelessness, and looked to the rest of the office. He was met with a sea of equally perplexed faces. Without catching sight of his sister in the shadows, Dick turned and made his way in with the "boss lady" and shut the door behind him.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the badges of the suit-and-tie individuals in the office. Checkmate.

Dick made a mental note to pester Roy about his former allegiances again.

"Yes, Commissioner?" Dick questioned.

"Do you know the proper protocol for orphaned children involving homicides, Officer?" she asked sharply, looking over her glasses with some disguised pain.

In response, Dick immediately tightened his features and stiffened in a more formal position. "Usually after initial investigations and interrogations from Homicide, a child is released to Child Protective Services. They'll be kept in a proper facility to protect their identity and provide support for them emotionally or mentally until a suitable housing and custody arrangement is made. It's usually a next of kin or an appointed guardian that takes them after that. Some cases, albeit rare, have the state award custody to other parties."

The Checkmate representatives looked unmoved.

"Do you deal with these cases often, Officer Grayson?" she asked, her voice hardened to mask sympathy. Dick knew her too well to pretend it wasn't there.

"Not on an official basis, Ma'am," he answered.

"Then why are you so familiar?"

He felt his frown tug at the corners of his mouth. "Because I'm a product of that system, Miss Gordon. Particularly the latter arrangement. My appointed guardian - and, later, adopted father - as well as some of my siblings are similarly products of CPS. We support the local orphanages' functions and charity events frequently. You could say I'm hands on."

Barbara's gaze narrowed. She was closing in on her point. "And, knowing your circumstances in particular, that system had been denied to you from the onset, could you imagine the frame of mind you would have been in as a child?"

Deep down, Dick allowed his guts to twist painfully. He hoped desperately that Barbara's painful use of his history had a rewarding purpose. "I would have never healed properly and grown to be the man I am today, Commissioner. I… owe my early support a lot for how I was informed as a man."

She nodded before curtly turning toward the others in the office. Her gaze was, at the very least, fearsome.

"That, gentlemen, is enough to assure me that I will be grounded in directly defying your orders and mine," she said venomously. "I don't know what's going on, and I'll hand this case over to the FBI should proper procedure and a call from the governor make me sure that my men and women here aren't capable of handling the investigations. But you will not step in and interfere with a child's welfare." She flung her door open. "You are welcome to leave."

Hesitantly, one of the men made his way to the door. The second stood and looked directly to Barbara. "We'll be back, Miss Gordon. And you'll regret your resistance."

"Not in the foreseeable future," she returned without missing a beat.

She shut the door the moment they were through the doorway.

Dick rounded on her. "Mind explaining the third degree?"

"Only so far as to say that you might have just witnessed the cause for my encouraged, early retirement," she responded before making her way to her desk. Her eyes leveled at him. "This is shaping up to be a caped matter if I ever saw one."

He gave her a small, knowing smirk. "Well. You know how Bats are, good hearing and all that. And you never know what belfry they're stuck in." He strolled over to the chairs the two men had occupied and gently turned them up enough to check under them. As soon as he located the one-way radio he pulled it out and showed it to Babs.

She looked less than amused. He smashed it between his finger and thumb.

"Hope that hurt the guy in the truck outside," he said with a sigh. "And here I thought we were putting ESPN in the lounge."

"Funny, Grayson," she huffed, putting her head in her hands. "Why is Checkmate involved?"

Dick shrugged, mostly for effect. "I'm sure I'll find out. Do we know the current head over there?"

Babs smirked. "Like I would ever not know the answer to that," she said with a sigh. "It's our favorite White Queen."

Really, Dick felt his mild surprise was unwarranted. "Really now? Is she ever going to retire?"

"Is Bruce?"

"Hmm," Dick returned before looking through the blinds. "I have our favorite ninja in the shadows. Figured you'd already know. I came down on orders to figure out who else was hacking and fire walling our network. Guess I got my answer-"

When he turned, he saw a desperate look in Barbara's eyes that he honestly hadn't seen in years. She was lost and bewildered with the situation at hand. Overwhelmed.

Almost on instinct, he moved to close the distance, leaning against the desk as he pressed his forehead against her's and cupped her cheek. She didn't move away or stop him, but rather closed her eyes and leaned with him.

"Careful, Officer," she said quietly. "A Commissioner isn't supposed to be so intimate with one of her up-and-coming officers, certain candidate for a detective."

"And here you just told me you were working on early retirement," he joked softly. "How's the kid?"

Barbara pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. She slipped a hand over his to keep it close. "Lost, at best. I need to either go in myself and make sure he eats the lunch I got him or have someone do it for me. He wanted apple slices, too."

Dick nodded. "I can do that."

She grimaced. "Dick, I know it was cruel - what I made you say earlier about… your parents and everything. But, if it's too hard to work at this case without the mask between you and the kid, you don't have to go back in there. I can manage, I just really needed you this morning when it was at its worse."

In return, Dick could only show his sadness at the entire situation. "That's… that's not the worst, I'm afraid," he informed her before straightening up, squeezing her hand on his. "But I don't mind. It's… painful, sure. But I think, maybe for the first time, I really get it. I really get why Bruce took me, and everyone else, in." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess I'm trying to say… I know what's happening in his head. I know what's going to happen next. I can help. I want to. I think I might even need to, Babs. In every way I can."

They held each other's hands in silence for a few moments before she at last relented and released him.

"Don't get swallowed up by this one," she cautioned.

He only managed a nod before heading out.

There was no indication that someone had visited with Terry since Barbara had managed to get some lunch to him. That was, other than the bewilderment of the child in question and how he craned his neck to look at every corner and shadow around the ceiling. He seemed almost lost.

Dick made a note to get the full report from Cassandra later.

For that moment, however, he waited patiently as Terry's attention finally rested on him and then held up the Ziploc baggie of apple slices he had obtained.

"Hey, Terry," he greeted gently, not letting on that he was aware of Terry's previous company. He approached the boy and took the seat across from him. "Don't suppose you remember me from this morning?"

The boy was quiet, looking over Dick cautiously. But he didn't seem otherwise alarmed. Dick was encouraged by how alert the boy appeared to be.

"That's okay," Dick filled the silence, looking down to the baggie as he opened it and began to pull out an apple. "I'm-"

"Dick," Terry ended the sentence.

To that, Dick looked the boy in the eyes only to find the eight year old staring disdainfully at the offered apple. He blinked. "Something the matter?"

"Did you wash your hands? Mom said to never take food until you washed your hands," Terry replied, shooting an accusing look at the officer.

In surprise at both the talkative nature Terry had took on and at the statement itself, Dick let out a small laugh. It made the boy's cheeks blush.

"Sorry," Dick excused himself, covering his grin partially with his free hand. "It's just that what you said is such a Li'l Brother thing to say. But, yes, I washed my hands. Officer's honor."

Somewhat assured, Terry reached forward and took the apple. He bit into it and seemed to take a deeper breath. The way he quickly devoured the rest of the slice told Dick that Barbara's concerns about the boy having not eaten yet were true. Dick felt a tinge of pain spread over his chest as he remembered taking a long time to eat properly again as well.

"Whizit a 'Little Brother' thing?" Terry asked, mouth still processing the remains of an apple slice.

"Oh," Dick responded smartly before coughing into his fist and rubbing a hand through his hair. "Well, it's sort of a particular little brother. I'm actually the oldest in my family."

Terry looked jarred by the announcement. The hand he had been using to reach for the Capri Sun slowly made its way back to the boy's lap. For a moment, Dick thought he had lost the boy to grief again, but Terry's eyes lifted back up to meet Dick's. There was a spark still, behind the sadness.

"Is your family big?"

Dick couldn't suppress his grin. "Huge. I have three younger brothers and a little sister. Technically two little sisters, but it's complicated and not on paper. I have nicknames for all of them, though. They think it's to annoy them, but I actually put a lot of thought and consideration into those nicknames! But only one of them is Li'l Brother."

The simple facts were, apparently, not so simple to the mind of an eight-year-old. He scowled instead, something Dick was beginning to believe was a default facial expression. "Why is he Little Brother but the others aren't?"

That got a soft laugh out of Dick. He reached into the baggie and pulled out another apple, offering it to Terry. It was with quite a bit of pride that Dick saw Terry eat a second morsel. "Well, it's a long story, but I guess the best answer is the same one for all my family's nicknames. It's less about what nicknames they want for themselves and more about what they need it to be. It's hard to explain."

"Oh," Terry responded, looking off as he crunched on his apple. He grew a strangely blank expression. "I… I was going to have a baby brother."

Suddenly, Dick felt his veins run cold.

When Terry looked back at him, the spark still showed through his eyes. "I… I know what Mom and Dad were going to name him. We have a picture of him on the fridge - from the doctor's. But… I never got to meet him." The scowl returned. "Guess I never will."

Collecting himself, Dick closed his eyes before taking a breath. Once settled, he looked seriously to Terry. "I'm very sorry to hear that, Terry," Dick said with more truth in his words than he had ever felt before. "But… I know how you feel."

Almost as if a switch had been turned, Terry slammed his palms against the table, his red rimmed eyes glared intensely at Dick as he snarled. "No you don't! Why does everyone keep saying that!? Mom and Dad are gone and I was just… just…"

With trained skill, Dick did not flinch or make any moves as Terry's rage lost steam. He stared coolly at the boy, watching as the boy heaved with tears he could no longer shed. When weariness took over the hysteria in the boy's body, Dick made his move.

He reached over and put his palm gently on the boy's head, feeling the boy's hair. "I know how you feel, Terry," Dick said again, quieter, like it was a secret between the two of them. "My parents died, too. I was there and I wasn't much older than you."

Sniffing, Terry looked up from underneath Terry's palm, his eyes still glistening with water, but the anger had subsided. He could hear that Dick was not lying. "You… you said you have a family…"

Dick nodded. "I… it was hard. It's still hard. I love my parents as much today as I did the day they died. Maybe even more," he admitted candidly. "But I know they'd be happy today because I became part of a new family. And I love them all just as much as I did my parents." He brushed some of Terry's longer strands behind the boy's ears. "I guess what I'm trying to say, Terry, is that I understand your hurt. You and I, we've gone through the same thing. I'm not working your parents' case, but my boss thinks - and I agree - that as long as you're here with the police, you may need someone who understands what you're going through. You might need that person to talk to and to always be there for you to rely on."

When Terry eased back into his chair, Dick reached for his pocket where he had written his number on a stick-it note earlier. He got up from his chair and leaned over to put the note securely in Terry's jean pocket.

"I want to be that person for you, Terry," Dick continued, looking Terry assuredly in the eyes. "That note? It has my number. I might have to leave, but I want you to know that the second you call that number, I'll answer. And as soon as I can, I'm going to come to help, okay?"

Slowly, Terry nodded and sniffed.

Smiling, Dick took the wrapped sandwich from Terry's side of the table and began to dutifully unwrap it for him. "Okay, good," he said pleasantly. He handed the boy the sandwich. "I want you to try and eat good, too. Keep yourself healthy."

Terry took the sandwich into his hands and Dick thought he had never felt more successful.

They entered a comfortable silence as Terry ate a bit of sandwich at a time. Dick suspected that if the boy ate half of it it would be better than he or any of his family had done in similar circumstances. It almost tricked Dick into reassessing the case itself, thinking of how Batman was going to approach the Checkmate lead.

But then Terry stopped chewing and, with large blue eyes, looked vulnerably at Dick it struck the officer straight at his heart.

"Someone earlier… they asked me if I knew what going to a funeral was like…" the boy said slowly, chewing as much on his words as he was his sandwich. "I said… I'd gone to my grandma's last year… but never alone…" Terry stopped, his brows knitting together tightly as he seemed lost on what he was trying so desperately to get at.

Without a second for further thought, Dick reached forward and held onto Terry's tiny hand. "Like I said, Terry. I want to be there for you, no matter what. Do you want me to go to the funeral with you?"

Slowly, Terry nodded.

"Then count on me," Dick assured the young boy. Yet, all he could think was Watch yourself, Grayson.