Another chapter, another first! Introducing my first attempt at young Dick!
I'm hoping to keep a schedule and update every Friday!
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Superman, or any other DC characters.
"Robin, get in the Batmobile. Now!" Batman grunted as he jumped to the right, narrowly avoiding being pummeled by Bane.
"But I can help, I—" Robin started saying, but was quickly interrupted by his partner.
"Robin!" Batman barked a bit more aggressively than he had meant to. But he couldn't help himself. Things had gotten out of hand and Bruce needed Dick to stay safe.
He could tell it was tearing Dick apart to leave in the middle of a fight. Not because Dick thought he could take down Bane by himself (he was realistic), but because he hated leaving Bruce alone. He didn't want to feel like he was abandoning him by leaving Bruce at Bane's mercy. But Bruce could work more efficiently if he didn't need to be protecting his ward during Bane's rampage.
"Please," Batman said as he watched Robin hesitate. Bruce couldn't remember the last time he'd used words like "please" while on the field, so he hoped Dick would understand the urgency. The boy had already been halfway to the car, but Bruce's words finally got to him as he ran towards safety.
Bruce, still dodging attacks from Bane, listened to the sound of Dick climbing into the car. As soon as he heard the doors lock shut, he pressed a button on his cowl near his ear. It was a communication line that would reach Alfred in the Cave.
"Autopilot the Batmobile to the Cave," Bruce instructed.
"Are any of you hurt?" Alfred asked over the comms.
"Robin is done for the night," he replied. He reached into his utility belt to grab some smoke bombs. He hoped to gain some space between him and Bane to better figure out how to take him down.
"Am I to send the Batmobile back to your location?" Alfred questioned. Bruce heard the car drive out of the abandoned warehouse. He knew there was a chance that Dick would be mad at him for benching him during patrol. But coming home to an angry child was better than coming home with an injured one. Bruce could deal with any resentment directed at him.
Bruce grunted in reply to Alfred's question. He'd thrown the smoke bombs and aimed his grappling hook towards the roof of the warehouse.
"Very well, sir," Alfred said before disconnecting the communication line.
Batman landed on one of the rafters, his eyes already analyzing the scene under him. Even before launching his bombs, there had been low visibility; the moon wasn't out tonight. The smoke hindered his vision as much as Bane's at this point. Luckily, he could still hear Bane as he thrashed around below him.
"You can't hide forever, Bat," Bane roared angrily.
Bruce knew that his best plan of action was to fight Bane from a distance; getting too close meant risking getting severely injured. But he didn't have much to work with. The abandoned warehouse was barren. There weren't any signs or items left behind to indicate what the building had previously housed. Bruce could check that out once he was back at the Cave. There had to be a reason why Bane had come to this specific location.
He needed to incapacitate Bane quickly; preferably before the Gotham City Police Department arrived. They'd be at risk of getting hurt if Bane was still enraged and violent.
Bruce knew he couldn't stay up here forever. Bane would eventually find him, either when the smoke cleared up or by sheer dumb luck. Instead, Bruce once again grabbed his grappling hook. This time he aimed for one of the giant holes in the ceiling. If he could draw Bane outside, he might be able to find some heavy items or machinery to drop onto him. Knocking him out would be the best-case scenario, but even disorienting him for a couple of seconds could give Bruce the advantage he needed.
Just as he pressed the button that released the hook, Bane ran headfirst into one of the supporting beams. The shock and force of the impact caused the whole building to shake. Cursing himself for his rookie mistake, Bruce lost his footing and fell off the rafter and towards the ground.
Unable to catch himself or right his fall, Bruce landed on the ground, his knees absorbing the impact. He'd tried to land in a safe way, but Bane's surprise attack had thrown him off balance. It took all of his willpower to not scream out in pain when he felt something in his left knee tear.
"Maybe you should have chosen to dress up as a giant cat if you wanted to land on your feet," Bane taunted as he now loomed over Batman.
Bruce knew he needed to move, and quickly; Bane had raised his arms above his head and was getting ready to slam them down onto his back.
He did the first thing that came to his mind and rolled to the right, once again only narrowly escaping being hit by Bane. Bruce felt the ground rumble from the shock of Bane's fists making contact with the floor of the warehouse.
Bruce had only just managed to get back onto his feet when a sudden and strong gust of air almost knocked him back down. If it hadn't been for his hypervigilance after having just fallen, he would have re-injured his knee. Superman now stood where Bane had towered over him mere seconds ago. His red cape was still flowing in the wind he'd created with the force of his arrival. Bane was now lying on the floor, clearly unconscious. Superman must have knocked him out upon arrival.
Batman and Superman had only met a handful of times since both beginnings their vigilante careers. They weren't enemies but they weren't partners or friends. Bruce was wary of Superman. He posed a significant threat with his huge number of powers and seeming lack of weaknesses. Bruce kept tabs on Superman and tolerated him if need be, but he disliked the man's inexplicable desire to want to be friends.
"Batman," Superman exclaimed as he looked away from Bane. "Are you—"
Bruce didn't let him finish his sentence. He knew exactly what the man was going to ask him, and he did not want to be answering that question.
"I've told you to stay out of Gotham," Bruce growled as he barely managed to mask his pain. He needed to bite down on his tongue to avoid grunting. He knew, without a doubt, that he'd torn something in his knee. It was more than just a sprain, but Superman didn't need to know that.
"I know, but—" Superman started to say, no doubt trying to give some bullshit excuse as to why he disregarded a rule he clearly knew about.
"Then don't make me repeat myself," Bruce told him sternly. He turned his back to Superman, all the while maintaining his balance. His knee was threatening to give out on him. But he had bigger priorities. Bane wouldn't be unconscious forever, he needed to make sure he was unarmed and secured by the time Gotham Police arrived at the scene.
"Listen, I know you don't like me helping out in your city, but I couldn't ignore what was happening. I knew you needed my help," Superman explained as Bruce worked at detaining Bane.
"How?" Bruce quickly asked. He needed to know if Superman was somehow tracking him. If that was the case, his identity was at risk of being exposed.
"Robin called out for help," Superman immediately answered. "But he told me not to tell you."
Bruce had slightly turned his head to watch Superman while he answered his question. He'd answered fairly quickly, as if he needed to get the confession off his chest. But Bruce didn't get the impression he was being lied to. Superman was living up to his honest Boy Scout reputation.
"Robin shouldn't have bothered you; I had this under control. It won't happen again," Bruce promised in a serious monotone. Having finally secured Bane's arms and legs, he turned back around to face Metropolis' hero.
"It's okay Batman; I didn't mind Robin calling out for me. I'd rather know you're both safe if I can be of help. I care about you," Superman told him. Bruce had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Superman was too honest and caring; how did he get anything done as a hero?
"Fine," Bruce finally said. He could have continued arguing with Superman, but he knew it wouldn't change anything. Instead, he would just have to make sure Dick didn't unnecessarily call out for help in the future.
Bruce noticed the distant sound of sirens starting to grow louder. It wouldn't take long for the GCPD to converge on the area. Bruce trusted Commissioner Gordon to take Bane to Arkham. The chances of complications arising were low, seeing as Bane was still unconscious. As an additional precaution, Bruce had also injected him with a strong sedative.
He started limping away, trying as best as he could to disguise his injury. He didn't need to interact with the police; he'd rather be gone by the time they arrived.
"Do you need me to give you a ride somewhere? I don't see your vehicle nearby," Superman asked, but he was distracted. He had turned his head to face the sound of incoming cars. Bruce knew Superman would be the kind of person to stick around and make sure there were no complications with the police.
He had been about to answer Superman's question, but Alfred started talking to him through their private communication line. He had already sent the Batmobile back to Bruce's location and it would be arriving at any minute.
Bruce wasn't going to complain. He used the opportunity to shoot off his grappling hook. With ease, he swung out of the warehouse through one of the broken windows.
He had nothing left to say to Superman; the hero was irritating. His main concern was to make sure Dick was okay and hadn't been hiding any injuries from him. Only then would he take care of himself.
"I was really worried about you, B," Dick said as he sat beside the medical examination table Bruce was on.
"I know, chum," Bruce replied, trying to reassure him. "But I'm okay."
"You're most definitely not 'okay,' Master Bruce," Alfred scolded as he removed his nitrile gloves. "I am preemptively diagnosing you with a torn meniscus. We'll need an MRI to confirm and you'll be lucky if you avoid surgery."
"I think you're being a little dramatic, Alfred," Bruce answered but almost immediately regretted it when Alfred turned around to glare at him.
"That's not good," Dick remarked, sounding incredibly dejected. "What happens if you need surgery and can't patrol?"
"There's no point worrying until we know," Bruce told Dick, even though he knew he was being a huge hypocrite saying that.
"But you're always telling me how important it is to be prepared and to plan in advance!" Dick retorted a bit frantically. Of course Dick had immediately called him out on his bullshit.
On the spot, all Bruce could do was to grunt in reply. He wasn't about to explain to Dick all of the plans he'd already prepared in advance for such an event; it wasn't Dick's responsibility to stress about that.
"Master Dick isn't wrong," Alfred agreed as he continued to put away his medical supplies and sanitize his tools. "It's best we start planning. However, I do believe our first priority should be coming up with a cover story as to how Bruce Wayne tore his meniscus and then promptly booking an appointment for an MRI."
"Skiing is a sport with a thousand and one ways to get injured," Bruce immediately answered. "It's Friday; we can easily pretend I spent the weekend abroad skiing and injured myself. On Monday, we can call to book an appointment which will coincide with my 'return' to Gotham."
"Vermont is lovely this time of year and is close enough to Gotham for a weekend getaway," Alfred added as he continued tidying up the area. Bruce wasn't the least bit surprised that he had already thought of the perfect cover story.
"Fine," Bruce mumbled in reply. He only agreed with Alfred because he wasn't in the mood to argue. Whether the man was right or not about the type of injury, Bruce didn't plan on taking any time to rest. Gotham needed Batman. End of story.
"You can afford to take the weekend off, Master Bruce," Alfred said as if he'd heard Bruce's thoughts. "Or at the very least, wear a brace so as not to further injure yourself."
Bruce simply sighed in reply as he swung his legs off the medical table. Alfred had already placed the brace on the chair beside Dick.
He ignored the brace as he limped over to the main computer at the front of the cave. He needed to check on the reports and make sure Bane had been safely brought to Arkham.
"You're setting a bad example for young Master Dick," Alfred suddenly critiqued. It was a low blow using Dick against Bruce and they both knew it. But it was damn effective. Bruce would want Dick to wear a brace if he'd been injured.
He rolled his eyes before turning around to go and grab the brace. Bruce saw how Alfred quickly smirked before smoothing out his expression as he continued to clean his workspace.
Bruce sat down on the chair beside Dick to quickly put the brace on his knee. As he tightened the straps, Bruce couldn't help himself from observing Dick's body language.
He'd been quiet since he called out Bruce and voiced his concerns. It was strange since Dick was normally a chatterbox and full of energy. Bruce knew the boy wasn't injured; both Alfred and Bruce had checked him out since he'd returned from the altercation with Bane. So why was Dick solemnly sitting on the chair and avoiding eye contact?
"What's wrong, Dick?" Bruce asked. There was no point in beating around the bush. He didn't need to ask if something was bothering Dick; he knew there was something going on. He just needed to figure out what it was. Was Dick still worried about Bruce's health?
"I had an idea," Dick gently said. His voice was barely above a whisper and he avoided eye contact.
"About what?" Bruce replied skeptically. Dick had better not be about to suggest patrolling alone while Batman recovered from a common knee injury.
"Maybe we could get Superman to patrol Gotham for a little bit?" Dick suggested. He finally turned his head to look at Bruce. "I know you don't like anyone else protecting your city, but I think Superman can be trusted. He's really nice and he can handle people like Bane better than the GCPD can. It won't be forever, just until you recover. And if it makes you feel better, I can patrol with Superman to keep an eye on him. We could even pay him, you know, so it's fair labor laws and you won't feel like you owe him a favor in the future."
Dick was rambling now and Bruce needed to stop him.
"Chum, I really don't think—" he started to say, but Dick didn't seem to hear him as he continued with his long-winded explanation.
"I know I'm not a doctor, but I just think Alfred is right. What if you don't get the surgery and your meniscus gets worse and then it causes you to mess up in a fight and you get hurt more seriously and—"
"Dick, take a deep breath for me," Bruce commanded softly as he placed a hand on Dick's arm.
Dick stopped talking mid-sentence. A look of surprise graced his face, as if he'd only just realized how much he'd been panicking.
"Breathe," Bruce gently instructed once again.
Bruce waited until Dick's breathing significantly calmed down before he started talking. Although he was focused on Dick, Bruce couldn't help himself from noticing when Alfred slipped away from the area. He silently made his way out of the Cave and back into the Manor.
"I've had worse injuries in the past. I'm okay," Bruce said, trying to calm the young boy.
Dick nodded in response, but he didn't seem convinced.
Bruce wasn't the best when it came to communication, especially when emotions were involved. He didn't deal with his own feelings. But Alfred had told him time and time again that it wasn't healthy. He didn't see the need to change his ways, but Bruce didn't want Dick going down the same path as him. What could he say or do to make Dick trust him that everything was going to be okay? And could he do it without sounding condescending or insincere?
"I just got scared..." Dick whispered. Bruce had barely heard him speak. It looked like Bruce didn't need to think of a way to get Dick to open up.
Bruce sat quietly as he waited for Dick to finish his sentence.
"I panicked and yelled out for Superman's help because I didn't want you to get hurt. I know you can take care of yourself. You're Batman! I don't know why I did it." Dick averted his gaze once more. He looked guilty for doubting Bruce's abilities and for involving Superman.
But Bruce could never be mad at Dick for caring about him. He was touched Dick loved him enough to want to do those things.
"I'm not mad," Bruce told him. "I understand." And he meant that. The only reason he'd sent Dick back to the Cave was because he wanted to protect him. "Robin not being in the fight wasn't the reason Bane was able to hurt me. It was a lucky shot."
"Okay."
"I'm not mad at you for calling Superman. It was nice of him to help out, but he's busy. Let's try not to bother him again."
"You're just saying that cause you don't want him in Gotham again," Dick declared. Clearly, he'd gained back some of his confidence judging by the small grin that graced his face.
"I think I heard Alfred call your name; something about going to get ready for bed?" It was a lie; they both knew it. But Bruce wasn't about to list all the reasons he didn't trust Superman. Plus, the outright lie put a smile on Dick's face.
"He did not!" Dick protested as he fought back a smile. "I know you're trying to change the subject."
"Are you sure? I wouldn't risk it," Bruce pretended to ponder. "You know Alfred doesn't like to be kept waiting," Bruce deadpanned as he got up from the chair.
"But I didn't hear him?" Dick replied, but he sounded a tad less confident now.
Bruce just grunted as he made his way to the computers. He did have work to finish before calling it quits for the night. He needed to look into the significance of the warehouse Bane was at tonight. But Dick deserved to enjoy his evening and Bruce knew Alfred had baked some sort of treat for Dick. He should enjoy some quality time upstairs with Alfred. It was sure to boost his morale after tonight's events.
"Coming Alfred!" Dick finally yelled as he caved to Bruce's taunting. Neither of them were immune to the threat of Alfred.
Bruce silently chuckled as he listened to Dick's panicked footsteps running out of the Cave.
Afterward, it didn't take long for Bruce to get settled in front of his computer. He quickly hacked into the GCPD and Arkham records. The reports confirmed that Bane had safely been transferred. There was also a note that mentioned Superman's assistance in the matter.
Dick had been right, of course. Bruce didn't want Superman to make a habit of coming to Gotham to help. The best way to avoid that becoming a reality would be to make sure he didn't make any more foolish mistakes on the field. If Bruce didn't mess up, Dick wouldn't need to call for help. It was simple.
Bruce felt better knowing he had a plan. Now he just needed to figure out how to modify his suit to better support his knee for the next couple of weeks.
Listen, I'm not a medical professional, but I did tear my meniscus in my sleep three years ago and I'm still recovering from it because of fucked up circumstances. So I know what the average recovery time and procedures are because professionals kept telling me I wasn't normal. Also, don't pull a Bruce if you tear a meniscus; your city can survive without you dressing up as a bat to fight crime for a couple of weeks.
