Notes: Guest: thank you! I find Dick very cute too :)
Now, the chapter!
Chapter 7
They settled into a routine. Bruce never admitted he was letting Dick help, always grumbling whenever Dick would turn on the com' link. Dick, in turn, avoided breaking the status quo by only slipping into the cave when he knew Bruce had already left for patrol. He was getting the hang of the Batcomputer.
"Stop calling it that. It's a computer. It has nothing to do with a bat."
"I should ask Alfred for bat-stickers", Dick casually said. "I could put one on the top of the middle screen."
Bruce didn't comment. A horrible thought came to Dick.
"Alfred knows, doesn't he? He knows everything."
"I certainly didn't know you were involved in this, Master Richard."
Dick froze. Considering how the voice had felt near, Alfred was right behind his seat. Dick looked up. The butler didn't seem pleased.
"Well, to be fair, B. didn't exactly allow me to?"
"We made quite sure to lock the door", Alfred approved, confirming at the same time that he had known Dick had found out.
No wonder Bruce was so secretive. Was it only in the Wayne family or in the whole Gotham that people avoided talking about anything like normal people? Babs had seemed able to use words for conversation the two times she'd been over. So had the kids at school. Maybe all hope wasn't lost.
Right now, though, Alfred didn't need any word to convey his feelings. Dick felt like that time his parents had found out he had been the one to paint Jack's caravan door pink. He had spent long hours sanding the door then painting it back in a more acceptable color.
"Hum, I'm good at finding ways in?"
"And at imposing yourself, I can see."
Dick knew the answer to that one. He grinned.
"At your service."
Bruce was staying conveniently silent since the butler's interruption. Coward. If Dick interpreted correctly the way Alfred glared at the screen, he was in for a talk when he would be back.
"So, err", Dick started, hoping his voice didn't sound too nervous. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Apart from avoiding worrying me by suddenly disappearing from the manor's grounds, you mean?"
Dick blushed. He hadn't thought about Alfred's feelings. He hadn't even imagined Alfred would notice he wasn't around – which meant he was stupid, because Alfred noticed everything.
"I promise I'll warn you next time I come down here", Dick swore.
It wasn't exactly what the butler had asked, but then, someone had to teach those people to use words to convey their feelings, right?
"I hope you will", Alfred commented. "Very well. I was looking for you to deliver a message from Miss Gordon."
Dick froze. Alfred was very good at not looking smug. Dick swallowed.
"She called?"
"To ask if it was possible for her to have your weekly meeting today rather than tomorrow. You will have less time but some kind of party is being organized for her father's birthday, I think?"
Dick paled. Today? But it was already 8PM! Which meant she would be arriving now.
"She should be there in a minute or so", Alfred confirmed, and that was just unfair.
Dick turned to the Batcomputer, not knowing what to do. Bruce intervened to save him from his dilemma.
"Your studies are more important than anything else. Go back upstairs."
"Yes, sir!" Dick exclaimed, already on his feet and running.
He didn't want to stay around to hear the conversation they were going to have. Knowing Alfred, he wasn't going to wait for Bruce to be back. Instead, he would make a point of having it in the com' – when Bruce couldn't run away.
sososoThe advantage of the bag having been ripped by a cloud of bats was that Dick could now go to the cave whenever he liked. Bruce wasn't protesting too much, though he pursed his lips at him when he thought Dick wasn't looking. Alfred prepared simple cheese sandwiches for lunch five days straight – but he couldn't bring himself to cook something bad. Cheese sandwiches were perfectly fine.
They certainly didn't weight a lot against the gym. Batgym? No, that sounded weird. It was part of the Batcave anyway.
Dick was trying to get how to work with the pommel horse. There had been one at the circus but he didn't use if for training, sticking to the rings. His dad had promised to show him sometimes now that Dick was old enough to build muscle but, well. It wasn't as easy as his dad had made it seem.
Alright, maybe Dick didn't have the upper body strength for it, either. But if he didn't work on it, it would never build, so.
"Use your balance more."
Thankfully, the pommel horse was on a floor mat. Also, Dick has good reflexes. He might have been startled enough to fall, but he protected his face with his arms and rolled away from the tool gracefully instead of just collapsing on the ground like a pancake.
He glared at Bruce.
"Could you please not do that to me?"
The man had the most cat-like pace humanly possible when he wanted to. Dick suspected that it actually was his default and had to force himself to produce some noise the rest of the time. Still.
Bruce was laughing with his eyes. Dick went back on his feet.
"Care to show me, then?"
Dick expected him to shake his head and go for the computer or whatever else he'd come to do in the cave in the middle of a Sunday afternoon, but Bruce did join him.
"Get back on."
Only then Dick noticed Bruce was wearing sweatpants. He had probably come to train. Dick felt a bit ashamed; he didn't want to take time from Bruce's training, not when it was so crucial to his survival. Dick could do without.
"Why don't you show me instead?" he asked innocently.
Bruce blinked at him, surprised, but complied. He easily lifted himself on the pommel and made a few moves, warming up his muscles while explaining how to make the movements right. Dick observed carefully, while stretching his arms and wrist.
"Come on", Bruce invited him. "Your turn."
Dick put some talc on his hands and started the routine from its beginning. He wanted to go slowly, not to make any mistakes, but that made his muscles work even harder. Trying not to pant, he finished the first part. Bruce nodded.
"Don't rely on your muscles only. You know they aren't strong enough yet. Use the movements speed."
"I'm going to mix it up if I go quicker", Dick protested.
"I trust your coordination."
Dick made a disapproving noise at the back of his throat but, once his arms rested a bit, he went back on, going through the moves quicker. It was easier – but it was also too soon. After a few rotations, he got his left hand on the bad side of the right one and was only saved by his quick reflexes. That's to say – he rolled again not to have his face meet the mat.
"Again", Bruce said.
He made Dick go through the whole routine twenty-three times, until Dick got it right. By then, his arms were sore, not used to those movements. However, Bruce smiled when Dick slid down the pommel, making it all worth it.
Which wasn't to say Dick didn't want some revenge.
"How do you do on the rings?" he challenged.
Bruce had been warming up while coaching him so he was ready for the show. And it was quite something, actually; the man seemed to be good at everything he did. Dick was too awed to criticize, even though he did spot some mistakes – the point wasn't to be stage perfect, here.
"Any comment?" Bruce asked nonetheless. "I saw you wince."
"Oh! It's nothing important. I mean, you build muscle, it's not a problem if you don't get a 10."
"Actually, it is", Bruce corrected. "I need to be able to control my movements."
Dick tilted his head. He had a point.
"Alright. So your feet weren't perfectly at level with your head when you did this. I mean… Like this."
Bruce helped him up, so Dick could show him. Dick repeated Bruce's routine, only skipping the parts where, again, the strength prevented him from imitating, pointing out the – very – few moments when Bruce had been off.
When he came back down, he was surprised to see Bruce looking at him appraisingly. Dick blushed.
"I used those to train, whenever the trapezes weren't available. It helps with the balance as well as the strength."
"Impressive", Bruce commented, making Dick turn an ever darker shade of red. "You make it look natural." He paused. "I can see why they called you Robin."
A wave of warmth and sadness filled Dick's chest. His mom's smile when she called him her little red-chested bird. Her perfume. The softness of her arms.
Dick breathed in.
"So, your turn again? We can also do the asymmetric bars! And you should get a trapeze in there."
"Definitively", Bruce approved, and the sadness receded just a little bit.
They did move to the bars afterward, and those Dick loved. It wasn't a trapeze, but it was the next best thing, with the possibility to fly from one bar to the other with the most improbable figures. He actually made them more and more so, giggling, until he heard the invaluable sound of Bruce laughter.
Entirely worth the loss of his dignity.
Having reached his goal, Dick finally gathered some speed to end his performance with a somersault. Applause echoed in the cave – Alfred. Dick bowed, right and left, grinning madly when Bruce joined in by clapping as well.
Dick looked up. Alfred winked at him, his eyes sparkling with joy at Bruce's smile. Dick's own grin widened. He would have to come down training every day if he managed to make Bruce laugh like this. It would be his official duty!
Maybe Batman could use some red and yellow and green. Maybe Dick could honor his parents' colors by giving hope, not to a crowd, but to a man who was giving too much to people not to get something back.
Now, that made Dick want to give hugs. He prepared for his jump – it was much funnier to take Bruce by surprise – when the Batcomputer beeped. Bruce glanced at it and frowned.
"Is this a sticker on the main screen?"
Dick blinked, then his eyes widened. There was a sticker at the top of the screen. A bat sticker.
"I'm sure it shouldn't disturb your usage of the Batcomputer, sir", Alfred commented.
Dick beamed at him. This man was. Pure. Gold.
Bruce stared at Alfred. Then decided to pretend none of this was happening and checked what had brought the computer to life. All amusement left his face. Dick shuddered, coming closer.
"What happened?"
Then he froze. The face on the pop-up was Zucco's, and a red warning on said: released.
It was impossible. It was. How could this man have been…? Jim Gordon had said they had all they needed to held trial! It had been planned for the next month, right after the holidays!
Bruce opened Zucco's file on screen, specifically the one from GCPD, since he apparently managed to get any information he wanted from their database. The last update was from this morning: evidence had gone missing.
Evidence had gone missing.
Bruce cursed. Dick didn't have the heart to do the same; he felt numb. His legs were trembling. He'd better sit down, so he did, on the desk chair.
"I'm sorry", Bruce said. "The new DA isn't as though as I hoped. They didn't pick Harvey's assistant but someone new. I should have investigated on him earlier. I should have…"
The new DA – because, before all this mess, Dent had been the one helping him.
"Not your fault", Dick interrupted. He felt so tired. He couldn't stay there and do nothing. He needed to act. "What can we do?"
That stopped Bruce in his tracks.
"We aren't going to do anything", he declared. "You will be going back upstairs while I investigate."
Dick straightened.
"No."
He couldn't be clearer. He wasn't going to let Bruce work alone on this one. He had been helping for almost a month! This was his parents' murderer. No. Way.
"Yes", Bruce retorted, equally clear.
They glared at each other. For longer than a minute, nothing moved. Then Bruce pointed at the door.
"Out."
"It's not…"
"Out."
Dick couldn't believe it. He glanced at Alfred, who was as blank as an ID picture. His throat closed up. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.
He stared at Bruce's face, cold as marble. It was happening, and Dick didn't think something could hurt more than his parents' killer being released, but this did.
He headed for the stairs.
"And don't try to get in through the tunnel", Bruce mentioned. "I closed it."
It was impossible to slam the clock door, so Dick closed it very, very slowly. Then he ran to his room to cry his eyes out.
sososoZucco was pissed. Yes, he was free; yes, he still had some influence in this time city, rodent vigilantes be damned. But for God's sake he was going to have someone's head for this. Specifically, Batman's.
Not only had the man caused his arrest but he had done so at the worst possible moment. The Roman was in trouble. Someone had been killing not only his little thug-toys but people who ranked high in the Falcone family. Not knowing who was behind it, he had struck back to all potentials belligerents.
Including Zucco.
"What do you mean, the club has been sold?"
His second lieutenant swallowed visibly. The first one hadn't shown up. The rumor was he had chosen to hang up the hat to join the Falcones. Admittedly, he'd done so because he had a gun pointed at his head.
"There was some pressure, boss, we… Anthony couldn't handle it."
That would be his ex-first lieutenant. Right. Blame the dead. Not that Anthony was dead – yet.
"Very well. Handle him and we'll see."
His second hesitate.
"What about the club?"
"I'll take care of that myself, since obviously you had to wait for me to be free to strike back."
He would have to be careful about this. The Falcones were powerful and, though he'd never admit as much, Zucco had managed to get by only by not pissing off the Roman. However, too much was too much. Carmine had stepped on a line. He had to react.
But he could do so indirectly. Someone was killing the members of Falcone's family. Zucco smirked. He merely had to find out who – and help him to finish the job.
sososoIt was 5PM when Dick's tears ran out. Bruce was most probably gone and Alfred would be avoiding him – or, more specifically, would haunt the library to make sure Dick didn't try to go back to the cave. Which left him the rest of the manor to himself.
And the door unguarded.
It was a long way until Gotham proper, even with a bike. Dick couldn't wait to be old enough to have a motorbike. His mother had always said she wouldn't let him have one. He still had four years to convince Bruce. If he still lived there at 16.
In the meantime, bike it would have to be. Once he reached the maze of Gotham's streets, making it impossible for Alfred to find him when he'd notice he was gone, he stopped for a moment to use his phone. Babs answered at the second ringing.
"Hi, Dick?"
"I'm sorry, I know it's late, but can I come over?"
"Well, dad left for work an hour ago so yeah, sure. Is there a problem?"
She was pretty; but he liked her brain even more than her looks.
"Yeah, there is. I'll tell you everything when I'm there. Err, Bruce mentioned you lived uptown?"
"In Grant, yes, on Livingston. Do you know the place? Otherwise, I can come pick you up."
"I've got a GPS on my phone, thanks. What's the house number?"
She gave him a few directions so he would find he house more easily. It took him about twenty minutes to get there. His mother would have frowned at him for arriving at someone's home at almost 6 for no good reason, but – he had one.
Babs opened the door and frowned when she saw his face.
"Get in", she said.
The house was cozy though not exactly tidy. It felt like someone had carefully chosen the furniture then had left it there, oblivious. It wasn't entirely messy – there wasn't any underwear on the ground – but outdated newspapers still piled next to the couch and breakfast leftover had been left on the dining table. Jim had probably eaten but an hour ago before leaving for work, Dick realized dizzily.
A mug of hot chocolate materialized in his hands.
"Talk", Babs ordered, sitting in front of him.
He blinked at the mug. Marshmallow floated at the surface. He used the spoon to pick one, then savored the sugary taste. Babs was smiling. He felt slightly better.
"Did you hear about… about my parents?" he asked first, because they hadn't talked about it at all, this subject not exactly being one he wanted to mention.
She nodded.
"Do you know exactly what happened?" he insisted. "Your dad was on the case."
"He didn't give me details", she emphasized. "But yes."
"Zucco has just been freed", Dick blurted out.
Her eyes widened, her freckles becoming even more visible as she paled.
"He what?" she yelled after the first wave of surprise. "But they nailed him!"
"Apparently, the evidence disappeared."
"But that's not possible! How would Zucco's men manage to get in the GCPD? I mean, someone would have seen!"
"I don't know."
She jumped on her feet, grabbing her coat. Dick gaped.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to talk to my dad. He has to give you more than that."
Dick looked at his mug. Then back at the door. She blushed.
"Alright, hot chocolate first. Priorities."
It was Dick's turn to blush.
"No, we should go, I…"
"Need to have some sugar, kid, you're pale as a ghost. Come on. Enjoy. I'll have one as well", she added, hanging her coat back on the stands before going back to the kitchen to prepare a mug for herself.
This time, rather than sitting on the armchair in front of him, she joined him on the couch. He hoped very hard his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. Babs observed him in silence. He squirmed.
"Should we watch a movie?" she proposed. "I've just got the last Avengers."
"The what?"
She gaped.
"You don't know the Avengers?"
"Of course I do!" Dick protested. "I just didn't realize they made a movie out of the comics!"
"On which Earth did you live those last few years?"
He rolled his eyes.
"We didn't own a TV and I don't go very often to the cinema."
"I'll have to fix that. The next one will hit the screen on May. You're definitively coming with me."
It was his turn to gape. Cinema? With a girl? But, no, it wasn't a date. It was for a superhero movie. Which was even cooler. If she kept being that amazing, he was going to overload.
"Alright?" he managed, his voice faint. Darn. He cleared his throat. "I'll buy the pop-corns."
She grinned. Her smiles had something scary, he noted. He liked that.
"And that settles what we're going to do now. I'll skip Hulk, it isn't the best one and you don't really need to see it. But we should be able to see Iron man 1 and 2, Thor, and maybe Captain America. At worst, you can come over next week as well, right?"
Another marshmallow was melting on Dick tongue, so he nodded silently. Three minutes later, the movie was starting on the big TV screen. As the title appeared, Babs took his hand, and didn't let go.
sososoThe new building was shit. It used to belong to a successful car seller who had gone bankrupt two years before and no one had ever taken the time to either fix the place or burn it to the ground. Zucco hated it. He also hated, in increasing order: Jim Gordon, Falcone, and Batman.
He'd have to deal with the cop after the first two had been offed. Of course, if his men kept being incompetent, he wasn't going to off anyone.
He heard steps in the corridor.
"For fuck's sake, I swear, if you haven't get news this time I'm going to off you!" he yelled at the door, ready to punch his newly promoted second in the face.
The door opened with a creak. The corridor was dark, its light off. Zucco took a step back. Dark corridors painfully reminded him of a certain vigilante. He might want Batman dead but he wasn't crazy. He didn't intend to go after him in person.
"I heard you were looking for me?" a familiar voice asked.
Thankfully, it wasn't the hoarse consonants of the Dark Knight or whatever. Zucco relaxed.
"Who the Hell are you? This isn't a public service!"
"Oh, did I break in the wrong building?" the voice commented sarcastically.
A figure appeared among the shadows, its shiny shoes stepping in the light while his upper body stayed in the dark. It was close enough for Zucco to recognize the face, though – he would have recognized that face anywhere.
"Dent?" he exclaimed, stupefied. "What does the DA want with me? I've been cleared of all charges!"
"Don't bet your life on it", Dent snapped.
The man took a deep breath, and smiled. There was something wrong with his face, Zucco realized, his brain screaming at him to get away, now, you idiot.
"Can't you scum even read a newspaper?" the (apparently) ex-DA asked rhetorically. "I'm not into justice anymore. Or rather… I'm into true justice. Not the sorry mimic humankind came up with."
Ice gripped Zucco's stomach. It was the cold realization that he was the only sane person in the room.
Zucco pulled himself together.
"Whatever makes your day", he said dismissively. "Why are you here?" Then his brain caught up. "You didn't come about Falcone, are you?"
"What else? Despite your recent… set-back, you have resources I don't."
Zucco couldn't help it; he started to laugh. Dent didn't seem to appreciate. He took another step forward and, this time, his face became fully visible, the left part horribly disfigured while the right one was as handsome as ever.
The mobster snorted and waved at the armchair in the room's corner.
"Don't get all excited. Sit down. Have a drink. We need to talk, partner."
Dent calmed down as abruptly as he'd gotten angry. He sat down, accepted the glass Zucco handed him, and after having watched Zucco drink some of his own alcohol, took a sip.
"Very well. Let's talk."
His smile was much more frightening than his ire.
sososo
Notes: Dick out of the Cave - but he still has Babs. And now the villains are working together...
Who knows how this will end ;)
