Cassandra sat by a large window that overlooked the hospital lawn. Beyond that, the lights of the city were starting to flicker to life, influenced by the rapidly setting sun. It amazed Cassandra that they'd been there so long. She turned over a pamphlet in her hands without understanding a word, just to give herself something to do. At first, it seemed like an opportunity for reading practice, but since Stephanie's death, reading had become much more difficult and lost all the joy attached.
She wasn't the only person aimlessly waiting. Far below the window, lurking around some shrubbery and trying to look casual, was Jason Todd. He'd changed his clothes and now hid his face behind some sunglasses and a hooded sweatshirt, but Cassandra recognized his walk and posture. After firing a gun in a hospital waiting room, he was right to hide his features, not that the rest of the family gave very descriptive accounts to security. Being such great detectives and gatherers of evidence also taught them how to obfuscate an eyewitness account, and without planning it beforehand, all of them had given Jason a free pass.
Cassandra wasn't saying Bruce deserved to get shot in the foot, just that not a single one of them seemed to blame Jason for it. As it was, Bruce was going to be fine, and was currently being treated for the injury in another part of the hospital. If Cassandra knew him, he'd be back soon, long before the doctors wanted to let him out of their sight. Alfred had gone along to make sure the man actually received treatment instead of just hiding the injury and toughing it out. With Dick still in meetings with RJ's doctor, there was no need for that kind of bravado.
Tim quietly approached Cassandra and sat down. "So, crazy day..." She gave a nod of acknowledgment, though 'crazy' didn't seem enough to cover it. "Think it can get worse than this?"
"It always gets worse," Cassandra muttered. For the past couple years, in fact, life had been on a steady, downward slope. But perhaps Tim was expecting something more optimistic. He squirmed a bit in his seat, then finally calmed down and sat still, but it didn't stop his body language from screaming louder than a fire alarm. That was part of why Cassandra had retreated to the window; it was too loud for her. A whole building full of people unable to stop telegraphing their feelings, and Cassandra needed to detach.
Even so, she couldn't turn Tim away. In time, the boy said, "Why are we so dysfunctional? We're all pretty decent people by ourselves. Even Bruce. How come we get together and it's a train wreck?"
"We care," Cassandra shrugged. "So we don't think logically. Just instincts." Like animals. The fight-or-flight response took over, and they all stopped seeing the larger picture, stopped listening to their rational mind that proposed patience and compassion.
Tim looked uncomfortable. "Bruce says that sometimes. Emotions interfere with your judgment and objectivity, can't let feelings influence you on a case." He pursed his lips, and Cassandra could guess what he was thinking. He didn't want to become closed off like his mentor. "But this isn't a case. We should be able to let our feelings motivate us."
"Then we make mistakes." It was just a fact. Cassandra's training and upbringing had taught her that. Emotions weren't efficient or rational.
But life in Gotham had taught her that mistakes were sometimes the best things to ever happen. "Look," she said, and pointed to the view outside the window. Tim obeyed, and his eyes widened when he saw Jason.
"No way! He's still hanging around?" They both looked down at Jason, and he stared back up at their window, though whether or not he saw them watching was unknown.
"We want to be together," Cassandra said, and smiled when Tim looked just a bit more hopeful. "We're better together."
"Yeah, don't I know it. Ever since we started running solo operations it's just been brutal." He pulled back from the window and sank into his seat. "You know, I was so excited when Alfred told me about RJ. Finally, something good was happening to our group. And that little baby brought us all back under the same roof, we even got Jason to have a civil conversation with Bruce. Sort of." His bottom lip trembled a little. "We were all together again, and then everything just fell apart."
"So let's fix it." Cassandra said the words before thinking about it, and she felt as bewildered as Tim looked.
"How are we going to fix this?"
"We will." Somehow, saying that with conviction gave her the confidence she hadn't started with. Which was good, since Dick returned at that moment with little RJ in his arms.
But his face was as white as chalk. Tim turned to Cassandra. "And that? Can we fix that, too?"
Logic said no. But experience said mistakes could sometimes be wonderful. So all she said was, "We'll find out."
Tim nodded and squeezed her hand before standing up. "All right," he said, looking over to Dick and his son. "Batgirl and Robin, a team up as old as time." Cassandra got to her feet as well, and the two of them shared a look, as binding as a handshake. "Let's fix this."
If Bruce had his way, he would have just wrapped his foot up in some gauze and powered through the injury. After all, Batman had endured far worse, and he could wait for treatment until the business with his grandson was completed.
His grandson. That was still knocking him off balance.
But everyone else insisted that he accept medical help, and since Dick had so blatantly refused Bruce's presence, he had no choice but to give in. It didn't take long for him to get bandaged and prescribed some painkillers, but it did give him a lot of time to think over the events of the day.
He didn't like what he saw. "My boys don't trust me anymore," he confessed to Alfred when he was finally discharged. "Jason said he didn't even know me. And Dick doesn't come to me with his problems. Both of them…" Bruce hung his head, reeling with the realization. "I've lost my sons."
"I don't know that you've lost them just yet," Alfred said, helping his employer into a chair in the nearest waiting room. Bruce had been adamant he didn't want a wheelchair or crutches, just a plastic boot was enough, but even with painkillers, he was starting to regret that choice a bit. It was a long walk back to the pediatric unit. "But I agree, your usual 'apologies' won't do the trick here." Well, that was a barbed comment if Bruce ever heard one. But maybe if he actually knew how to give an honest apology, he wouldn't have deserved it.
"Dick said... that she didn't listen. That he told her to stop." At that, Alfred lost all of his sass. "You think he meant...?"
"I suppose we'll have to ask him ourselves..." Alfred sat in the chair next to Bruce, strength gone. He suddenly looked far too old. "I can't even imagine what he must be feeling."
"Why didn't he tell us?" This was the question that plagued Bruce above all else. Why hadn't Dick told him about the problems in his life, the baby, Catalina, breaking up with Barbara, even updates on the Blockbuster and Deathstroke situations? Why had he pulled away, when he needed Bruce and Batman the most? And then, when he could pull himself out of those thoughts, were the other questions. Why didn't Jason want him anymore? Why didn't he feel he knew him now?
Alfred thought to himself for a moment, then postulated, "You dismissed him as Robin when he was beaten by a man three times his size. After that, why would a grown man tell you he was overwhelmed by anything, let alone a child? Or a woman..." Bruce stiffened.
"This is different, I wouldn't have-"
"What you would have done is irrelevant. We are talking about how Master Dick perceives the situation," Alfred curtly interrupted. "And my observations tell me he is a young man who honestly believes his father no longer loves him. Or will cease to, when his secrets are brought to light."
"Well, he's wrong," Bruce snapped, but then sobered up. "He just stood there and let me yell at him." Back in the hotel room, Dick had accepted all accusations and criticisms, which Bruce now suspected were unwarranted. And even if it had been true, it was unlike Dick to not fight back or defend his actions.
"Yes, that is a great concern to me as well." The two sat in silence for a moment, until Bruce couldn't help but break it.
"Is this my fault? We never... we didn't talk much about sexuality or..." There was a brief talk, he remembered, the occasional discussion about girls, but nothing extensive. "That was always his business, and my business was mine." Could he have done more to prepare the boy for the world? Robin knew how biology worked, as well as the evils human beings could inflict upon each other, but this may not have been a costumed instance. And now, there was a child involved. "Did this happen because of me?"
"You are not responsible for the actions of others, Master Bruce. I have been trying to teach you this since you were eight." Yes, the timeless lecture. It was comforting, but in the back of Bruce's mind, he always wondered what he could have done more. "Whatever action or inaction you took, other people make their own choices. Perhaps there were situations you could have handled better in the past, but whatever Master Dick or this Miss Flores did had nothing to do with you." The old butler spoke firmly, enough so that Bruce could almost believe it for a minute. "Now, our chief concern should be how to help our boy through this ordeal."
"I don't think I can," he admitted. "I mean, I want to... but what do I say?" What could he possibly say to make this better? How could he make the world right again? "And he doesn't want me here, he never wanted me to know at all..."
"Master Bruce, this isn't about you."
"Listen to Alfred. He's the only one of us who can keep their head in a crisis," a new voice broke in. Tim arrived, followed by Cassandra. "We've got an update. Good thing you're both already sitting down."
"Oh, dear," Alfred's voice trembled. "Not more bad news?"
Tim winced a little, but forced the expression off his face. "They figured out what's causing the bleeding. It's a tumor, pancreatoblastoma." Bruce felt all the blood drain out of his face, and the room seemed so cold. "It's kind of rare, and hard to detect in kids, which is why no one caught it earlier. I guess most of RJ's symptoms looked like typical newborn stuff." Tim shifted on his feet a bit, then sat down, using the action to collect his emotions and appear calm. But it was hard to hide something from the Batman, and he knew Tim was more distraught than he was letting on. Cassandra was more successful at hiding her feelings, but even she showed signs of distress under the surface.
"I see." Somehow, Alfred was able to speak. Bruce couldn't find the air for it. "And where do we go from here? How serious is it?"
"It's pretty bad," Tim said softly. "It's dangerous to operate in a kid so young, but he'll just keep bleeding out if they don't remove it, and the cancer's already spread." Now Bruce was falling, he was sure of it, but upon further investigation, he saw he was still in his chair. "So they're prepping for surgery now. If that goes well, they'll start discussing a chemotherapy plan."
"Oh, dear God..." Was that Bruce's voice? It seemed so small. "There must be a mistake, this is a baby we're talking about..."
"I know." Tim looked to Cassandra and shared a glance, before clearing his throat. "So... we think you should wait a bit before you go see Dick. Like, maybe stay here for the next half-hour or so. No less than fifteen minutes."
"What?" No, he had to see Dick right away! Bruce had to fix this, he had to make sure the doctors were doing their best, he had to stop the swirling storm that was now taking over his brain. "This is my family, I need to be there! I have a right to know-" But Tim just held up his hands.
"Calm down, Bruce. We're not trying to block you out. We just want you to wait a bit, that's all."
"But why?" He needed to be there now! And if his voice sounded a little petulant, well, Bruce wasn't about to be embarrassed by it.
Cassandra felt differently. "You're a child," she said pointedly, and Tim jumped in before Bruce's temper kicked into high gear.
"It's not an insult, just an observation." As if that made it any better. "When you're Batman, everything's so clinical, but as Bruce Wayne, it's like you're that little kid in an alley again."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Bruce growled. How dare they pretend to know how he felt about anything?
"I know you yell and scream like a little baby, because that's all you know how to do," Tim snapped back. "You're scared and you can't gather evidence or punch out the problem, so you melt down. Just like a little kid, it's your initial response to throw a fit until people put the world back the way it's supposed to be. But you're an adult now, Bruce." The boy exhaled and gave a rueful shrug. "I suppose it's too much to ask that you actually see a grief counselor at this point, but the least you can do is trust me. Remember why I became Robin? You know how you can get when you're grieving."
It felt like Bruce was on trial, but he couldn't really argue with anything Tim said. "So now I'm not allowed to see my grandson?" It was still strange to use that word.
"No, we just want you to take a couple minutes to get the knee-jerk response out of your system, and take some time to focus on Dick. Stop thinking about how scared you are or how you need to barge in there and save the day, and just think about him and what he might be feeling. Do that, fifteen minutes minimum, and I guarantee you'll know what you need to do." Tim leaned forward, face now earnest instead of accusing. "I know you two care about each other. But right now, you're stuck on how this affects you. He said he needs his father, and a father puts his kid's well-being ahead of his own. Give yourself a little time, and you can do that. Dick's got the rest of us to hold him steady in the meantime."
"But I should be there now." Tim's lecture had hit home. Bruce saw the logic, and the condemnation.
But Tim and Cassandra were only encouraging. "We're a team, Bruce. A family. We all support each other, so no one feels like they have to carry things alone. I guess... we all forgot that for awhile." He stood up and turned to leave. "Something to remember now. Fifteen minutes, minimum." And then he left, but Cassandra stayed.
There was an awkward silence between the three still in the waiting room, until Bruce broke it with a sigh. "You can go if you want to, Alfred."
"If you need me for nothing else, sir." He faked reluctance, but Bruce could tell he wanted nothing more than to be at Dick and RJ's side.
"Go. I'm sure he'd be relieved to see a friendly face."
"Very good, sir." And he was out of the waiting room almost before those words were finished.
Which just left Bruce and Cassandra. She pointed to his foot and asked, "How are you?"
"I'll be fine." It was nothing compared to the nightmare RJ was facing. "I'll be back on my feet in no time." Not according to the doctor's recommendations, but since when had Bruce ever followed those?
But that reminded him of Leslie, and the way she used to shake her head when Bruce repeatedly jumped back into his work before she'd cleared him for duty. Leslie, who'd allowed a young girl to die just to send Bruce a message, and blamed him for all the children suffering under his tutelage. What would she say about Dick now? Would she blame him for that, too?
"Remember when things were good?" Cassandra asked, and it shook Bruce out of his thoughts a little. "We were happy. I miss it."
Happiness was relative. But it felt so long ago, when they were all a team in Gotham, even Dick sometimes. Tim had his father and Dana, and friends at Brentwood, Barbara teased him over the radio frequency, and Cassandra smiled on occasion. He wasn't fighting with Dick, and though Alfred spent most of his time with Tim, Bruce felt confident enough to handle life on his own, because he didn't need people in his house to drive away the loneliness.
Life wasn't perfect, by a long shot, but overall, they were happy. "I miss Stephanie," Cassandra continued, speaking far more than typical, even if the sentences were all short and simple. "I miss living with Barbara. I miss working together. I miss Tim's smile. I miss Dick acting out Cinderella..."
"That was the past," Bruce said kindly. "We can't go back in time and change things."
Cassandra frowned. "I want to be Batman. That's my goal. But..." She looked away from Bruce, suddenly choked up, and it was startling because Bruce could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen Cassandra cry. "I miss wanting to be you."
Those words hit Bruce like a punch in the gut, and again, he heard Jason's accusations in his mind. "I don't even know you anymore! When did you get so angry?"
Cassandra looked back at him with an expression caught between anger and pleading. "Is that the past? I changed... why can't you?"
A good question. And Bruce had a minimum of fifteen minutes to sit and think about it.
The original plan was to divide and conquer. Cassandra agreed to babysit Bruce and make sure he stayed put long enough to get over his initial 'burn-the-block-down-before-anything-else-can-hurt-me' reaction, and Tim got to deal with Jason. Honestly, he would have liked to trade, but Cass insisted Jason's physical cues indicated he liked Tim, had some kind of grudging respect for his replacement. Tim sometimes wondered if Cassandra just made stuff like that up, since there really wasn't any way to question her, but it was surprisingly hard to win an argument with the girl despite her adherence to simple sentences, so here Tim was, walking across the hospital lawn to Jason with nothing but a prayer to defend him.
"Hey, can I talk to you?" Seemed as good an opening line as any. Jason went on the defensive as soon as he saw Tim, and hatred radiated from him like the plague. Tim hoped Cass was right when she said it was all an act.
It looked pretty genuine from where he was standing. "What do you want, Replacement?"
"Thought you'd like an update. Since you're hanging around."
Jason scowled. "I'm not here for you guys."
"Sure. My mistake," Tim shrugged. "See you around, then. I want to spend some time with the little guy before surgery." And he turned to leave, but Jason caught him by the arm.
"Wait, fine," he grumbled out. "Just tell me if the kid's okay. If Bruce is adopting brothers and nephews all over the place, I deserve to know if they're alive."
Interesting choice of words. "You might have one less to worry about soon." Jason ripped off his sunglasses, and Tim was again treated to his eyes, a wide ocean combining the pure blue of childlike hope and the dark of a typhoon. "It's cancer. So after he makes it through surgery, he's got to put up with chemotherapy cycles and if that all works, he's going to need a lot of treatment to make up for how the chemo interfered with the natural growth process..." He stopped when Jason looked like he might pass out. "I looked stuff up. It doesn't look good. I don't think it's anything Dick hasn't already heard, but I can't talk to him about it, I'm trying to stay positive around him." Problem was, group morale was usually Nightwing's job. "I can't do that by myself. I want to, but I can't, and I shouldn't have to. I'm just a kid."
He needed Jason, weird as that was to say. But as much as Tim wanted to prove an adequate successor, he'd never resented the Robins who came before him, and he was being honest when he'd told Jason he could never compete, that he admired the other boy so much. At the moment, Jason wasn't that boy that Tim used to watch leaping across rooftops, but that didn't mean it was gone completely.
Not everything died back in Sarajevo. "You stopped being a kid the second you put on that uniform."
"You didn't." They all needed to pull together, none of them could go it alone. That was what Tim learned, and why he became Robin. But he had lost a little bit of his guiding light, and now fumbled in the dark. "You were life and hope and all the good things about childhood, right up until the end. You kept Bruce from losing himself, gave him someone to love."
"Yeah, and like a dumb kid, I didn't realize what I was giving up in the process," Jason snarled. "My life isn't a sacrifice to keep the old man sane. And I'm not throwing my heart back on the chopping block for him, or for Dick-Up-His-Butt." And he started to leave, but Tim called after him.
"Is this what Robin is, then? Something for stupid kids that we eventually grow out of?" Jason stopped, and Tim continued, suddenly feeling very exposed. "Because you and Dick both graduated into something else, Steph got fired from it, and I... I'm not sure what I stand for anymore. I'm a detective, like Bruce, and I think I'm becoming more like him all the time. The Robin I used to be is getting written over." He shrugged his shoulders, helplessly. "And I'm fine with evolving a little, I never thought I'd be Robin forever, but now it's the only thing left in my life, so what's the point of fighting it? Why not just throw away all the extraneous stuff like friends and family, and just solve crimes full time?"
That was pretty much his life now. A few friends in the superhero community, but not much else. He'd basically copied Bruce's move from back when he was arrested for murder, Tim hired an actor to pose as his uncle and dropped off the grid. No school, no needless attachments, nothing... until this baby showed up.
Now he had a light to shine on his life, to scrutinize his own hypocrisy. "After all, isn't that what you're doing now?" Jason did not like that accusation.
"I'm nothing like him!" But the words got to him, Tim could tell.
So he pushed a little harder. "Is Robin something dumb that we eventually leave behind?" he asked. "Do we all become lone wolves like Batman, or is there a point to caring? Because I've lost so much already, and I know you have, too. So tell me," he said, hoping it didn't sound like begging, even if that's how Tim felt. But this all meant something to Jason once. "What does it mean to be Robin? Tell me if there's a reason for me to even hold on to this."
Jason was quiet for a moment, frowning down at the ground, and Tim worried that the older boy would just walk away.
But then, Jason looked up. "Batman solves crimes. Robin saves people. Saves Batman most of all." He didn't smile, but Tim somehow felt the encouragement radiating from the grim determination. "And Robin never leaves you, even if you grow up into something else. It's a curse," he emphasized, when Tim started beaming.
"Sure it is," he nodded, but the smile never dropped, and Jason eventually sighed.
"Whatever. You win." He put on his sunglasses and adjusted his hood to conceal his face again. "Let's get back in that waiting room. I guess we've got some people to save."
Dick Grayson had spent the past two weeks with a heart full of wishes and regrets. The past year, if he were being completely honest, maybe even longer. He wished for things and opportunities, he wished for second chances and re-writes, he wished for mercy, salvation and redemption.
But now, he didn't have the heart for any of that. Because that required thinking, and the more he thought, the more he remembered, and then he'd just fall apart again. He was needed, by the tiny baby in his arms and all the people surrounding him, so Dick had to pull himself together and be that pillar of positivity and capability. He had to be all right, because he was always all right, and he was expected to be the one who kept smiling no matter what life threw at them. He'd had a moment where he broke down earlier, but he couldn't afford to do that anymore. Whatever mistakes he made that got him to this point were his responsibility to deal with, and he had to buoy everyone else up in the meantime, just like he always did.
So he shoved as much of his emotions to the side as he could, and focused his attention on RJ, who continued to rage and shriek, even clenching his little fists in a way that was adorable outside of the sad context. They were prepping for surgery now, so hopefully relief was on it's way, but there was no way to communicate the complexity of that to an infant.
"I know, you're so mad at me," Dick soothed with a grin full of tears. "Everything hurts, and now I won't even feed you. It's tough to be a baby." RJ howled out his consternation, and Dick tried to keep a comforting smile, since that was all he could do. "Yeah, I bet you've got some complaints to give management, huh? You were promised a soft bed, everyone cooing over you and all the milk you could drink. Total swindle, bud." Dick paused and swallowed, no longer able to hold the tears back. "You were supposed to have so much, RJ. The whole world. I wanted everything for you, you have to know that." How much could a baby perceive of its environment? And how much would affect him as he grew up? There had been studies done on that, not that Dick had time to read them in depth, but he had a feeling RJ was responding to the loss and chaos around him, even if an infant didn't have the reasoning capacity to sort it all out.
"I know what it's like to not have a parent there. Both parents, actually. I never wanted that for you, my kid was going to have me and a mom and more love than anyone knew was possible." The best laid plans. "I'm sorry I screwed that up for you, baby. I didn't mean to, but now..." Excuses. What did they matter when his son was sobbing? "It sucks, I know how much it sucks, but I'm here. I'm here, and mommy can't hurt you or anyone else. The cancer is easier to fix than the emotional stuff sometimes, but you got a daddy that loves you, and he won't just leave you alone. I promise, I'm not letting you cry because I don't care..." The expressions of love didn't seem to make a difference to RJ, but it didn't matter. Dick kept repeating that he loved RJ and things were going to be fine, trying to be a source of calm and comfort in what had to be a terrifying time for a small baby.
It was pretty frightening for the adults, too. "Ever hear of hospitalism?" he whispered down to his son. "I read a webpage about it, little newborns who don't have someone to cuddle them, and these healthy babies start to get depressed and just die. I was so scared for you when we first met, you just lay there like a scrunchy-faced little lump." He softly tapped RJ's nose, and the baby scowled. "Mommy didn't cuddle you much, huh? And I bet the social services people were too busy to pay you a lot of attention. They were like that with me, too..." Dick sighed, thinking of how awful it must have been for RJ when Catalina didn't want him. Even with a baby's limited perception, it would be hard not to sense their own mother's rejection and the absence of anyone taking her place. "But one day with me and you started screaming. Yeah, scrunchy-face, you hated my guts, didn't you? Broke you right out of your funk." Nearly two weeks and the kid hadn't let up. But now, it wasn't stressful.
It made Dick smile. "That's how I know you're going to be alright, kiddo. You're a fighter, you don't just lay down and give up, even if things are really horrible. So you keep screaming, if you have to, and I'll pick you up every single time, and we'll get through this together, okay? Things might be awful for a while, but you're not alone anymore, Daddy's going to fight with you." Dick wondered if this was how Bruce felt when he first took a little circus boy in.
And for a second, one blessed second, RJ turned up his brown little eyes and held back his screams. "Yeah, kid, you drew the short straw in the life lottery, but it's not all bad, right? It's not all bad..." He stroked the kid's face and smiled. "No baby depression for you. You'll get cuddles all the time, I promise. The doctors can cure physical things, and Daddy's issues aren't your fault, so if you hang in there, things will get better. It's not all bad." And then the moment was gone, RJ screwed up his face and screamed again, broken up by a small cough that left tiny flecks of blood on his lips. Dick sighed and wiped it away. "Yup, keep screaming, show 'em you're a fighter. I'm right here, kiddo, I'm listening..."
He kept rambling like that for some time, until Alfred arrived. "Master Dick! I just heard the news!"
"Hey, Alfie..." He mustered a tired smile as the old man sat down beside him. "Tim told you guys, huh? Looks like we're going to be here a bit longer..." What a horrible day. "How's Bruce doing?"
"Disregarding his physician's orders, as usual," Alfred sniffed, which elicited a laugh from Dick. "But he's certainly had worse. I imagine he'll return to work in no time." Whether his body was fully repaired or not. Bruce could power through anything. He'd had his back broken and recovered with very little fuss. Yes, he'd chosen a psychopath to protect Gotham in the meantime, but other than that lapse in judgment, he'd soldiered on as always. Nothing shook Bruce.
But Dick, the boy he'd raised up and trained in his own image, he fell to pieces on the job, he let his morals take a backseat to fear and selfish desires, he allowed other people to use him and now he was a basket case with a little baby in tow. Bruce could handle crime-fighting and parenting, Bruce kept a grip on his emotions, Bruce controlled himself around women and didn't cross the ultimate line, even for the Joker.
He must have been so disappointed in Dick.
"You don't have to stay, Alfred." Because it would soon be a cold war again, and Alfred might be blessed with more compassion than Dick deserved, but he couldn't be defying Bruce. Like when he moved out, Dick had to handle things on his own, he couldn't go around Bruce's back to get handouts from the butler.
Of course, there was no way he'd be able to pay RJ's medical bills without Bruce, not since liquidating all his assets... "Where else should I be, Master Dick? I may not have the privilege of a legal binding, but you and I are still family, are we not?" He wanted to contradict Alfred. He should have, after everything Dick had done, he should be distancing himself from everyone, disappearing from their lives...
But it felt so good to have someone else beside him. "Thank you..." Alfred would find out the truth sooner or later, and make the choice to reject him then. Until that time, Dick could hold on to the lie for a few more seconds. "You really are the best..."
"So I've been told. Now..." Alfred put on his business voice. "When was the last time you ate? Or slept, for that matter?"
"I don't remember... It doesn't really matter..."
"On the contrary, it matters a great deal to me." Alfred gestured down at the little bundle of not-quite-joy Dick was carrying. "And young Master RJ can hardly be expected to change his own diapers if his father passes out from exhaustion."
Part of Dick laughed, and the other part felt sick at the reminder that he was responsible for the life of another human being. "Okay. I wanna stay up with him, though. I'll try to catch a nap once he goes to surgery. But something to eat might be nice." Not really, but he didn't think Alfred would let up without some concession. "I guess I am a bit hungry..."
"Very good, sir. I don't see any of our earlier meal in the vicinity, so I suppose I'll have to seek sustenance from the vending machines. Do you have any requests?"
"I don't care. You don't have to do this, Alfred."
"On the contrary, Master Dick." Alfred gave a gentle smile and spoke softly, "For all my medical knowledge, I know little of pediatrics or oncology. But I am an excellent butler." He placed a small kiss to RJ's forehead, then after a second, kissed Dick as well. "Please allow me to serve you in the only way I can."
"I love you, Alfred," Dick said without thinking, so touched that his voice dripped with tears. "I'm sorry about this, about everything, I..."
"Shhh, none of that now," Alfred soothed. His hand brushed through Dick's hair for a second, more affectionate than usual for the stoic, British man. He paused, and then said very kindly and seriously, "Dick, whatever you've done, or was done to you..." Dick flinched and dropped his head. "It will not change how much you are loved by this family. Certainly not by me. Even if you disagree," he broke in before Dick could argue. "You are so very loved, and nothing will ever alter that. Do you understand me?"
He did, but he also knew Alfred to be wrong. "I've done terrible things..."
"As have we all, dear boy. Love is not contingent on such things. Trust, perhaps, and if I have lost yours, I will endeavor to gain it back." Dick's guilt and confusion were at war, staring into Alfred's kind eyes. "Will you trust me on this, at least?"
He couldn't. Once they all found out, and the truth would have to come out eventually, none of these pretty words would mean a thing. And even if Alfred forgave him, even if Hell froze over and Bruce forgave him, what did it matter if Dick still hated himself?
But his mouth moved anyway. "Yes, Alfred."
"Good." Alfred stood up with one last comforting smile. "I shall return shortly. Some food in your system will do you a world of good."
"If you say so." He waved the butler off, then sighed. "If only my problems could be fixed so easily."
"I hope you're not expecting the kid to talk back to you," he heard the snide voice of Jason Todd interrupting him. "That would make you more unhinged than I thought."
"Very brave of you to come back," Dick said, mouth caught somewhere between a frown and a grimace. But Tim came on Jason's heels, loaded with picture books, so he doubted Jason had evil intentions. "Nice shades."
"If Clark can get away with eyeglasses, these should be more than enough for dodging security," Jason grinned. "I'm here incognito."
"Really? Then how did I see through your clever disguise?" Tim quipped, before plunking himself down in front of Dick and RJ. "Enough of that, though. The fun train has arrived!"
"What?" Dick was confused, but Jason joined Tim on the ground, and the two were generating enough enthusiasm to rival a sports arena.
"We grabbed some books from the children's area. RJ must be so bored, so we thought we'd entertain him a little!" Tim grabbed a book about a bunch of barnyard animals and opened it. "This one's a mystery! A duck goes around solving cases, kind of like your dad does, but with less parkour!"
"Yeah, that's not age-appropriate, Timbo," Jason broke in, brandishing another book. "Try this one about counting caterpillars."
"You can read that when it's your turn," Tim stuck out his tongue. "What do you say, RJ? Want your Uncle Timmy to read you a story?" And something in that caused Dick's guts to freeze.
"Wait, uncle? ...are you...?" The words felt like ash in his mouth. How did he let this get by him? "Are we... brothers? With everything that's been happening, I guess I forgot... that was going on... did Bruce...?"
Jason threw his hands in the air. "Oh, not him too! I started as an only child, then I get reincarnated into Full House!"
"Um, no..." Tim said hesitantly, to both of them. "I said no. It just felt... it didn't feel right. So I live alone now. Kind of a funny story, I'll have to tell you sometime..." He drifted off for a bit, and Dick felt hollow.
"Oh. Well, if you're happy, I guess that's all that matters..." But Tim was always shrewd, and gave Dick a curious look.
"Are you disappointed? I mean, last time we talked about it, you didn't seem down with the idea..."
"No, Tim, that had nothing to do with you! I swear, I just..." The complexities of his feelings at the time could never be understood, except perhaps by Jason. "I was in a bad place, and you were just so... We'd have loved to have you, all of us, don't tell me you turned Bruce down because of me?"
"No!" Tim said quickly. "No, I... it wasn't anything personal. Or, it was, but my personal. Nothing to do with you. Promise." He didn't seem to be lying, but a part of Dick was filled with regret all the same. Maybe if he'd been more welcoming, less caught in guilt, maybe Tim would have wanted to be part of the family? Maybe if Dick hadn't felt like he was being replaced yet again, by the perfect pupil who didn't let crime bosses die or allow criminals to put their hands all over him... Bruce should have a son like Tim. Even Jason was a better human being.
They all carried such baggage over being successors and replacements, when Dick was the mistake all along. He was the one never wanted, tossed aside for better versions, and only adopted to try and fill the gap left by Jason. They should never have been threatened by Dick Grayson, or Nightwing, not when he made even the Red Hood look like a man of integrity.
But he couldn't bring himself to say that out loud. "It doesn't change anything," he told Tim instead. "You're still one of us. We don't need a piece of paper to prove it."
"Thanks," Tim said, with a nervous smile. "I actually felt bad for the longest time. Like, maybe if I'd have said yes, and we were real brothers... maybe you would have told me what was wrong. You might have trusted me, then..." How Dick's insides twisted, realizing the pain he'd put his family through even without the truth coming out.
"It's not that I didn't trust you," he tried, but couldn't go further. He hadn't told Tim. He still didn't want to tell Tim what he did. Not that perfect kid who looked up to him and thought he was the sun and the moon. The cute little boy he dedicated his last performance to, the one who grinned with him in the last picture he ever took with his parents, he couldn't shatter that image. "It's not your job to fix my problems. I'm an adult, remember? I can handle myself."
"Everyone needs help now and then, Dick. And I'm not scared to find out you have an ugly side." He flipped to the first page of his storybook. "Besides, we're all Robins. If we don't look out for each other, who will?"
Dick was quiet for a moment, and only RJ's crying was heard until Jason finally interrupted. "Is this the part where we hug? Because I'm not doing that."
"You're fine, Jason," Dick laughed, and it was a full, real laugh that filled his whole soul. A piece of real happiness amidst all the pain. He smiled down at RJ and held the baby up a little. "No, I think it's storytime. What do you say, bud? Want your weird uncles to read you a story?"
RJ might have just been responding to the change in position, but his little mouth curved into something that might have been a smile, and his cries were slightly less ear-shattering, so the boys took that as a yes. Dick sat back in his chair and listened to Tim and Jason reading children's stories with bizarre voices, and reminded himself of the advice he'd given his son just minutes ago. It wasn't all bad...
