Dick ran, no, correction, Dick made a strategic retreat to his room. It was familiar but not at the same time. A handful of posters he recognized, more that he didn't. The Flying Grayson poster was missing, but you could see the faded space where it was supposed to be.
He closed his eyes, taking a long deep breath. Dick was trying, but everytime he looked at Bruce a cold fear pooled in his stomach. One that spoke of loneliness and longing, one he hadn't felt in years. It brought back memories.
It brought him back to the second anniversary of his parents' death. Batman and Robin took the night off, Dick having taken the whole week off under Alfred's gentle advice. He had told Bruce it was fine, Gotham needs Batman. Bruce didn't have to stay home with him.. But Bruce, who over the two years went from being classified under the guardian category to the father category next to John Grayson not replacing him, just pulled Dick into his lap. Dick spent the night crying into his shoulder, sobbing into a suit that cost more than his parents' entire trailer. Bruce held him, humming and offering comfort from the world in an all-encompassing hug. In that moment, for all of Dick's pain, he didn't feel alone. Later he would realize the cold pit in his stomach was gone.
He tried to shake off the memory. He wasn't there. They had years between that memory and now, even if he didn't know or remember any of them. He had to seperate that Bruce from this one. He tried to breath, to bring himself back, but instead he was pulled into another memory.
It was his first day at the manor. His English was limited, choppy and heavy with an accent. He spent months at the juvenile detention center. He learned commands like a dog and words that he didn't understand but knew were meant to hurt. His case worker drove him there, talking fast against the radio. He only caught every few words like, "behave", "Gypsy", "punish", and "trash".
The manor was clean, Bruce and Alfred smiled at him, but he could see the tense lines in their shoulders and hard looks they kept sending his social worker. The woman finally left, Bruce dropped to his knees and held out a hand, palm up. "Hello Richard," Bruce said. It took Dick a few seconds to realize Bruce was speaking Romani. "Welcome to our home." He was speaking slowly and careful, the language fresh on his tongue. Dick smiled and for the first time, his chest was a little less cold.
Dick scrubbed at his face, rubbing away the tear tracks. He wanted to hit something.
He wanted Bruce to explain himself.
He wanted a hug.
Dick stood, tossing off his shirt, stripping on the short walk to his on-suite bathroom. He cranked the water up to the highest level, stepping under the stream without letting it heat up. Maybe the slow climb in temperature will help defrost the feeling in his chest.
Jason was grounded from patrol. The injury on his arm was getting better, but it was by no means healed. He's patrolled with worse, they all have; but, after all of Bruce's stubborn growling, Alfred pointed out that with the current environment, taking another night to heal now would benefit them in the long run. If it was any other time, Jason would have probably gone anyways, or kicked up a much larger fit. But he caved a lot faster than even he was expecting.
Jason had other things on his mind, specifically his conversation with Roy and his currently younger older brother.
Dick was gone the whole day, hiding out in his room. Tim monitored the door and window with an obsessive fever, one the rest of them pretended to weren't also keeping an eye on. The only person who approached was Alfred. The man stopped by three times throughout the day, each conversation running the same. Dick approved the butler entry. No, Alfie he wasn't hungry. No, he doesn't need anything. Yes, he was fine, thank you. Alfred would leave again to return a few hours later; rinse and repeat. Dick didn't show up to dinner, and the look on Alfred's face when Damian asked said to drop it.
Jason kept thinking back to the night before, watching Dick and Roy interact. Of Roy talking about Dick needing familiarity. His mind kept coming back to Dick being replaced by strangers. It was something he never thought about, or maybe it was something he never wanted to think about. Because he understands that, like Roy said. He understands finding out someone has replaced you, waking up to find out your replaceable.
He agreed to stay behind, manning coms and camera's while reviewing the case file on Dick's situation. They hadn't made much progress; the detailed blood analysis had a few unknown traces that needed additional research. The last message from Zatanna, basically said her first few leads ran dry, but she'll keep looking. She talks about reaching out to one of her contacts who works with more of the occult, but promised to keep it vague on the information for now.. One of the more recent messages recommended they "reach out to the Flashs. Like I said before they have more history with time based science".
It was early into patrol, just an hour after Batman and the Robins' had left when Dick snuck up on Jason. The currently younger hero took a few confident steps off the elevator, slowing to a stop when he noticed Jason at the computer, legs kicked up next to the keyboard.
"What are you doing here?" Dick called. Much to his delight, he caught Jason by surprise. The man rolled off his chair, pulling a knife from somewhere and throwing it. Dick dodged easily, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow as it clattered to the floor behind him and slid over the edge of the platform down to the cavern below. They waited, and in the distance, you could hear a plop of something landing in water. "Nice." Dick said with snort.
"Fuck off," Jason scowled, "And shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"Gym," Dick shrugged. A towel hung around his narrow shoulders, a water bottle in hand. He was dressed in a pair of loose shorts and tank top. "You?"
"Joker tried to shoot me. The guy got a lucky shot when I was saving the baby birds, and hit me in the arm. Bruce told me to stay in."
"Because Bruce doesn't ever go out injured." Jason could practically feel the sarcasm dripping from his words.
Jason snorted, "Alfred agreed with him."
Dick conceded with a nod. An awkward silence fell between them, Dick kicked at the floor. "So, uh, any update with this?" He asked, pointed at himself.
Jason weighed his options, deciding Dick deserved the truth rather than false hope. "Nothing about reversing it. The Joker has a hit on the rest of us Robins though." Jason grimaced as the words came out of his mouth. Dick flinched, lips drawing into a tight line, but made no attempt to speak. Jason sighed, "Look, Kid-"
"Don't," Dick interrupted, he looked tired and old, "Just don't." Dick turned before Jason could stop him. "I'm going to train," He called over his shoulder.
Jason watched him leave, Dick practically sprinting from the room, much like he did earlier at lunch. He sighed, rolling his shoulders. Jason scrubbed at the headache building behind his eyes, taking the elevator back into the manor. Walking blind, with a practiced familiarity, he made it to the kitchen. He slowed to a stop, dropping his hands to push the door open.
Alfred greeted him with a nod and light, "Master Jason" from where he was doing dishes at the sink. They had a dishwasher, but Alfred had always preferred to do it by hand. He argued it was quicker and much more efficient his way.
"Hey Al," Jason muttered, trudging towards the coffee maker, pulling a mug from the above cabinet. It was empty, leaving Jason to make it how he likes. They fell into a silence, Alfred scrubbing and Jason setting the machine to boil. "Hey Alfred?" Jason asked, after a few moments of relaxing silence.
The older man hummed, pausing only for a moment to gesture for Jason to grab a towel and dry as he continues to wash. Jason followed instruction without arguing, waiting for Alfred to signal for him to talk. "Has Dick been acting weird?" Jason asked, finally working up the courage.
Alfred took a moment to think, "Given the circumstances, no." He said eventually. He finished rinsing a plate and handed it over to Jason. "If anything, he is doing better than I expected."
Jason accepted it, whipping it dry. "Roy said something similar." He admitted. He turned to put the plate away, and Alfred moved onto a teacup.
"I am not surprised. Mr. Harper and Master Dick were very close when he was that age." Alfred advised.
"What were you expecting, from Dick?" Jason asked, "Because he hasn't exactly been pleasant."
Alfred passed the cup to Jason but didn't grab another. He let out a heavy sigh, cleaning his hands with a spare cloth before turning his full attention to his young charge. "Master Richard has learned a lot in the last few days, ten years of emotions to work through."
Jason frowned in confusion, and Alfred kept talking before he could ask questions. "Master Dick does his best to keep it from you boys, but he and Master Bruce have a complicated relationship."
"I remember them arguing a lot before," Jason muttered. He kept running the rag in circles around the base of the cup, the motion relaxing compared to his racing mind.
Alfred nodded, face tired and grim, "The history with Master Bruce is only part of it He has a life outside of Gotham, responsibilities he has always tried to carry alone. There are things that Young Richard has learned, which Older Richard has already had the opportunity to come to terms with."
"Like us becoming Robins?" Jason asked.
"Among other things, yes. This is why I had advised Master Bruce to talk to Master Dick. Case files are limited as we often find that they tell us what happened, but not why."
Jason nodded, finally putting away the teacup he had been absentmindedly repeatedly drying. Alfred turned back to the sink, picking up another dish. The two men fell into a comfortable repetition. When they were finally done, the dirty water running down the drain, Jason made himself the cup of coffee. He thanked Alfred with a soft nod and wandered back to the cave.
He let his feet take him down, blinking up from his coffee, when he pushed into the training room. He was determined to talk to Dick, while it was fresh in his mind.
Dick was training, standing in the middle of the simulation area, with a bow staff and a belt around his chest like a sash. He was fighting a crowd, the figures over twice the size of Dick with wide shoulders. The figures were white and featureless, made up of state of the art nanotechnology. They could take almost any form, and were a solid surface when active. Jason stopped at the door, watching Dick take each figure down with a quick and slightly scary efficiency.
Dick bounced from the shoulders of one, kicking another in the head, flipping then sliding between the legs of a third. A few more spawned, as the downed figures dissolved, the new ones holding guns. The guns, Jason knew from experience, shot faux blasts, leaving a mark on the fighter until the simulation ended. He continued to watch Dick work through the crowd, it was a dance, similar to Nightwing in grace and fluidity. Dick finished in a crouch breathing heavily through his nose, the floor turning green under his feet. He stood, turning to Jason, with a guarded gaze. He didn't speak, making his way to the water bottle left on the side.
Jason cleared his throat. "You're good," he said, eyes darting to the empty simulation area and back to Dick.
"Thanks." He nodded, face tight. "What do you want?" He grabbed the water, chugging down half in one go.
Jason huffed. "I wanted to say I got it," He said with a half shrug.
Dick raised a questioning eyebrow at Jason.
"You read about us? Me, Damian, and Tim?"
Dick nodded, his face guarded, clearly unsure where Jason was going with this.
"I won't bore you with my story," Jason continued, his hands were shaking slightly, his knuckles white as he clutched the mug in his hands. "But I woke up from the grave with some kid wearing the uniform I died in. I understand losing time and when you come back the world is different but not. I understand if you don't want to talk, especially with a guy who replaced you, but if you ever want to fight a real person or something..." Jason shrugged. "I might be able to help."
Dick studied him with a complicated look. It made Jason's skin itch, and made him want to take a swing, but he kept himself centered, holding back the rage. After a few seconds, Dick nodded and in a small voice said, "Thanks."
"Uh, yeah." An awkward silence fell between them, only to be interrupted by a beeping from Jason's phone, letting him know Red Robin was requesting verification of information. The notification reminding Jason he was technically running coms for the night. He left with a quick goodbye, fleeing back to the computer. A blush crept up the back of his neck, feeling like an awkward teenager he never got to be. He thought he was over his childish need to impress Dick.
Dick watched Jason leave, tucking the information away for later. Hewent back to the simulation controls. Dick turned up the difficulty, determined to train until his mind went blank.
