A/N: Lets all take a breath after last chapter, shall we?
(And please don't come at me for the awful redhead retriever line, if I have to suffer, so do y'all X) )
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"This is the most obnoxiously Dick Grayson place I've ever seen," Wally said as he dragged Dick through the glass door, "and I've seen what you did to that poor penthouse."
"You're hilarious," Dick said. He tightened his ponytail, making sure it covered the scabbed wound on the back of his head. There were some advantages to keeping his hair longer—like fooling his annoying friend who'd knocked on his door this morning. He hadn't been up to visitors, but Wally was persistent and capable of getting most of the Superhero community on his ass. If Dick planned to disappear, it was best to play along until this Redhead Retriever found another ball to chase.
"You're just mad I'm right. And also aggressively in need of more of this—" Wally waved towards the mural behind them. On it, a cartoon tiger smiled wildly. The text bubble above him read 'A ROARING SMILE GIVES A ROARING TIME!', and the wall behind him was splashed with neon pinks and yellows that made his head hurt.
Of course it was a tiger, and of course Tiger had ruined tigers for him.
"Just admit you love this place."
Wally wasn't wrong. It was a beautiful gym the size of four basketball courts, filled with brightly coloured gymnastics equipment like rings, pommel horses and even a gigantic floor mat like ones they used at the Olympics. In the back there was a pit filled with foam blocks, meant to break your fall as you practiced vaulting or other dangerous stunts. A third of the room was so cluttered you couldn't see the floor, creating an improvised parkour court.
Yes, fifteen-year-old Dick Grayson would be drooling. Twenty-five-year-old Dick Grayson wanted to burn it with fire.
An older woman wearing a neon pink jersey waved them over to the pit. Two others had already joined her; a bald man in a wife beater that read 'ALPHA SHIT', and a black woman in skintight spandex that put Catwoman to shame.
Dick had a high tolerance for Wally's bullshit, but what the hell had he signed them up for?
"You must be Mr. West and his plus one," the woman said as she wrote on her clipboard.
Wally shook her hand. "A pleasure. This is Dick Grayson."
She nodded. "Nice to meet you both."
"Your name is Dick?" Spandex Woman asked, and Dick was already so done with this.
He smiled sweetly. "That's me."
She looked him over. "Wow."
"Alright everyone," Clipboard Lady said. "Welcome to our gymnastics school. We have a lot of high-level equipment that can be dangerous to use alone or without practise. So today, we will assess your abilities and place you in a suited class. Afterwards, we'll give you your membership card and we can discuss options for joining one of our teams. Simple, right?"
Membership? Class? Teams? Dick glared at Wally, who gave him a smug look.
He should've ended it on the roof.
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Grace, as the clipboard lady was called, listened as they took turns explaining their experience and goals. Alpha man was a novice that wanted to learn the Rings. Spandex lady already competed, but her gym didn't have vaulting equipment.
When it was Wally's turn, he said, "I'm just here to support my friend." When prompted further, he grinned and added, "I dunno, learn to do a backflip, maybe."
Real fucking smooth, Wally.
The nerve to show up unannounced after months, drag him to the brightest place he could find, and then just step back like this was all Dick's idea? He had so much to do that didn't involve running around a glorified playground.
Ever since that unspeakable night, he'd been busy planning his disappearance. The first step was to move without raising red flags—Blüdhaven was too close to Gotham. For that, he needed to tie up every loose end in the city, both as Nightwing and officer Grayson. He hadn't realised how many pies he'd stuffed his finger in until he started going down the list.
So much to do, and already so much time lost, since he'd been useless the first few days after the incident. The wound on his head had him puking for days, and the blood loss had left him unable to stand without grabbing furniture. He only kept one bag of his own blood in his apartment, forcing his body to replenish naturally. Worst of all was the bruise below his ribs, shaped like a small hand. When he moved it pulled at his side, and he had to stop and lean against a wall as he thought of the boy who left it.
Now he was well enough to work, and instead he was here, doing whatever this was.
"And why are you here, Mr Grayson?" Grace asked.
"I think this was Mr. West's idea of a joke," Dick said. "I'm sorry, but I have no interest in joining your gym. If he—" Dick pointed to Wally "—wants to stay and learn a backflip, I'll wait for him in the parking lot. It was nice to meet you all." He nodded to Grace, then marched back to the locker room.
Wally followed him, catching the doors just before they closed. "Dick, wait!"
"You're a fucking asshole," Dick said as he changed back into his normal clothes.
"You can't leave!"
"Why not?"
Wally stared at him. "Why not? Because we planned this whole thing for you!"
Dick pulled his T-shirt over his head and crammed it into his bag. "Ask next time and save yourself the trouble."
"Fuck you, man. All we were trying to do was—"
"We're not twelve anymore," Dick interrupted. In their teens, Kid Flash and Robin had been joined at the hip, but now they saw each other once a month at best. Still, Wally was the only friend from his robin era who tried to maintain some sort of friendship after Spyral. Even if Dick couldn't understand why he bothered—he'd done nothing to earn this kind of loyalty.
First, he'd left the Titans to become Batman. Then he'd let all his friends believe he was dead. They'd grieved him, then they'd moved on, the space he'd occupied inside their little group forgotten. Except Wally couldn't take a hint if it punched him in the face.
Wait. Had Wally said 'we?'
"Who's we?" Dick asked.
Wally froze like he got caught in a lie. "You have to promise not to tell him."
Probably Roy. It always was. "Nevermind, I don't care."
"It was Tim."
Dick's hand stopped inside his bag. Tim? As in, his Tim?
"He asked me to take you, said all you do is work, which in his words was 'tragically adult' and 'more boring than you are'."
Dick grabbed the zipper on his bag and slid it back and forth. He was ready to go, but the name of his little brother kept him from bolting.
"When was this?" It couldn't be recent—he hadn't spoken to his family since the Black Mask fiasco. They hadn't tried to contact him, either, which must be Bruce's influence. Or maybe Damian was…
No. Damian had to be fine. Everything was fine. If anything, he was glad they didn't reach out, because it meant he didn't have to push them away. It was fine.
Wally fiddled with his hands. "Like three months ago? It's actually incredibly hard to get into this place."
Dick sighed. That was long before he thought he started slipping. Even back then, he'd been a burden on his family. How had Tim even found this place? It was such a sweet sentiment, such a thoughtful way to help without helping. And if he'd been more like himself, he absolutely would've loved it.
He was probably going to regret this. But this might be the last time he'd see Wally, and it would be a waste of Tim's effort if he just left…
"I'm not getting a membership," Dick said. "But—"
Wally's smile widened until it split his face. "You'll stay?"
Dick pulled his hand through his hair. "Just for today."
"Yes!" Wally yelled. He used his superspeed to push Dick away from his bag, rummaging through the mess of clothes he'd flung in there this morning.
"But I'm not letting you put that hideous shirt back on."
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When they returned, their little group had moved on to the other side of the gym. Grace wrote on her clipboard, watching the other two jog around the edge of the floor mat. Her head whipped up as Dick and Wally returned.
"Change your mind, Mr. Grayson?"
Dick mustered up his brightest smile. "Can we start over?"
Grace had them do some basic exercises on the mat to warm up. They didn't have a piece of equipment like this at the cave—the closest thing was the padded floor they used for sparring, but that was too solid for real acrobatics. It wouldn't make sense to practise on a bouncy mat when they were supposed to perform their stunts on rooftops.
He figured he could do at least twenty-five handsprings before reaching the other side, but they hadn't recognised him yet, and Dick wasn't sure if he wanted to blow his cover as that Dick Grayson—it could make things all kinds of complicated.
"Just go for it, man," Wally said as he landed his third backflip. He hopped from foot to foot like he was in a bouncy castle, looking every bit as ridiculous as he meant to. "What does it matter if you're not getting a membership, anyway?
It could matter if people recognised him. But the other two were busy with their own workouts, and this was the first time he'd seen a floor mat like this since high school. If he was going to stay and entertain Wally anyway, he might as well make the best of it.
He turned his back to the mat and closed his eyes, imagining the movement inside his mind. His muscles tensed, and he flung himself into a series of backwards handsprings, barely touching the floor as he soared. Every time he thought he hit the end there was more space, and he kept kicking, kept pushing until he saw the white outline of the mat below his feet.
"Twenty-eight," he said on his final bounce. His high school record was Thirty-three, but he'd take it, considering his last attempt was almost ten years ago.
"Meh," Wally said. "I've seen you do better."
"You over rotated on seventeen," Grace said.
The other two stared with open mouths.
Dick rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh—I can do it again?"
Grace smirked as she gestured to the abundance of equipment in the room. "Whatever you'd like, Mr. Grayson. Nice of you to finally join us."
Of course she'd had known. She was a gymnast in Blüdhaven—it would've been weirder if she hadn't known his name. But she didn't whip out her phone or asked any uncomfortable questions. She simply held on to her clipboard and watched him as he made up his mind.
"I would like to try vaulting" Dick said.
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Dick vaulted, somersaulting four and a half times before the foam blocks caught him. He'd never used a pit like this, hadn't realised just how forgiving it was—he should've broken his neck at least six times by now. But here he was, laying on his back in a bed of clouds.
Next he tried the high bar, his old high school routine still part of his muscle memory. It didn't matter he flubbed his landing, or that he had to let go in the middle of a move. When he got on the pommel horse he mistimed his release and sprawled onto the floor, nut it didn't matter. He got up and tried again.
He'd forgotten what it was like to fly without carrying the world on his wings.
After two hours he was completely spent, sweat rolling down his back as he watched Wally mess around on the mat. He crashed for the third time in three minutes, failing another backwards handspring. Wally was great at acrobatics when his speed made gravity move in slow motion, but without his powers he was like a newborn fawn.
In their teens, Dick had spent an ungodly amount of time teaching him a single backflip, after which they'd both decided Dick could do enough stunts for the two of them.
"You have to arch your back more," Dick said as Wally picked himself up.
Wally groaned. "My back was already so arched it was in Paris."
"Your form is very peculiar," Grace said. She tapped her pen on her chin. "Like you trained in zero-gravity."
Wally laughed, then immediately stopped trying. "Wouldn't that be silly."
Honestly, if anyone ever suspected him of being Flash, they'd confirm his identity the same day. Luckily, the idea of Wally West being a superhero would be a stretch by anyone's standards.
The doors on the other side of the gym banged open, a group of kids wearing exercise clothes emerging from the tiger's torso. They had to be around eleven, the age kids start thinking for themselves without having any common sense. They made a beeline for the parkour court, sparing none of the adults a glance.
"Just a second," Grace said. She jogged over to the kids, who tried to push half the equipment in the room together to create a platform. Grace's nails bit into her clipboard as she talked to them, pointing towards the spots she wanted the boxes and mats returned.
"But Paul always let us!" a girl yelled. Dick didn't hear Grace's answer, but after a few crisp lines the girl stalked off to help her friends with a sour expression on her face.
"Sorry," Grace said as she returned, "one of our instructors just quit and I forgot to cancel his class. You're free to continue the last hour solo, or you can pick up your membership cards at the reception. I'm truly sorry to cut things off like this, but I can't send the children home when they were promised a lesson."
She looked over to Alpha guy, who had been complaining about needing a spotter. "Solo means without me, not without a spotter."
"I'm done anyway," the man said as he looked away. He'd gotten frustrated when he couldn't just immediately plank mid-air, despite being able to do so on the ground. Spandex lady had gotten the move first try, and he'd been sulking ever since.
"Same," Spandex lady said. Her limbs shook as she toweled her face. She had the skill, but really needed to work on her stamina. "This place might be a bit intense for me."
One of the children yelled to grab the attention of her peers. She raised her hand, slowly pointing it at the boy closest to her. They both grinned, then shot straight into the parkour course. The other children joined in, screaming as they weaved through the equipment like mountain goats, playing tag without touching the floor.
Damian would've loved to play like that, even if imagining him doing so felt like a slight to his character. Sure, the two of them had played rooftop tag, but there'd always been an edge to it. When they got caught there was a hand on their throat, a sword against their back. There would be a loser who was expected to do better.
These children yelled and laughed, and as soon as they were caught, they sprung away to start the chase all over again.
Dick dug his fingers into the bruise on his side. Damian had gotten caught, too, but he hadn't laughed.
He'd bled.
Dick knew he didn't deserve an update on the boy's condition, and that he definitely wouldn't get one from Bruce. But some part of him had hoped one of the others would give him something. Batman could forbid them all he wanted, but Steph, Cass, and Tim would never listen unless they agreed. Still, Dick had heard nothing.
Which kind of said everything.
Only two days of worry had broken his resolve, and he'd sneaked into Leslie's clinic, his head still pounding from his concussion. Even if he couldn't speak to his family, he could ask her about Damian's condition. But he only found a note on her door, explaining she'd be away for a few days for a 'family emergency'.
Which could only mean she was staying at the manor to look after Damian. At first this had been a relief, because if nothing else, that meant he was alive. But then the doubt sneaked in—Leslie never stayed at the manor. Even when Dick had been in a coma for a week, she'd traveled back and forth between the manor and her clinic.
So what kind of injury could possibly force her to?
What was he doing? Playing at being a civilian, messing around while he should get his affairs in order. This place wasn't meant for people like him. People who'd destroyed their loved ones like he'd done.
He swallowed the bile in his throat. "I'm done too."
"But you promised you'd teach me something," Wally whined.
The bright room stung behind his eyes, and sweat slid down his back like cold rain. He needed out, but after this, he'd never see Wally again. Walking through those doors meant saying a goodbye he wasn't ready for.
"Fine," he said.
"Yes!"
Grace rubbed her eyes as she looked at the havoc the children wreaked on the other side of the gym. "I'm going to have to deal with that. So sorry for the noise."
"Oh, Dick has like twenty siblings," Wally said. "I think he went numb to this kind of violence years ago."
Dick said nothing as he let Wally tug him away. If he opened his mouth, he might cry.
Wally stopped them in front of the uneven bars. They were Dick's favourite element, leaping between them so similar to trapeze they felt like his father's hands. They'd had one at the cave but not the bunker, another thing he vowed to fix but kept broken. At his school's club, they'd told him it was a woman's element, that training on it was pointless if he wanted to compete. But for Dick, gymnastics wasn't about competing. It was a tiny shard of the circus he got to keep.
"One thing," Dick said as he helped Wally up the highest bar.
"What if that one thing is a triple salto dismount?"
"Then I suggest you book the gym another few weeks and call me back when you get to two and a half."
Wally grinned down at Dick. "You mean you'd come back if I called again?"
Dick sighed. "You forgot to chalk."
Wally's grin vanished. He jumped down from the bar, following Dick's gaze towards the other side of the gym.
Grace had traded her clipboard for a whistle. She stood at the edge of the mat, her arms crossed as the kids ran laps. She whistled once, and they turned to run in the other direction, pulling stragglers along by the hems of their shirts. Two whistles and they dropped for pushups, another and they continued running.
They'd laughed more in the past five minutes than Damian ever had.
"You can talk to me, you know," Wally said. "You think I'm just this dumbass that zeta's over to 'Haven now and then, and that might be true, but I'm the dumbass who does."
Three sharp whistles and the kids crumpled over, splaying out like starfish as they fought to catch their breath. Grace clapped her hands, and they all bounced towards her, screaming suggestions about what to do next.
What could Dick even say to that? He wasn't ashamed to say he'd loved Wally like family when they were kids. Even had a crush on him at some point. But the Dick Wally wanted to talk to him didn't exist anymore.
None of his Titan friends knew what he'd done while he was undercover. Batman knew. So did Superman and Wonder Woman. Beyond that, it had been Nightwing's choice who to tell, so of course he'd told no one. They'd been so angry at him for faking his death. How was he supposed to tell them he faked it so he could become a murderer?
If Wally knew, he wouldn't be here right now.
Dick picked up the chalk block and offered it to his friend. Wally stared at it, then pushed it back into Dick's hands.
"Show me first."
"What?"
"That triple salto. I want you to do it."
"You know what it's supposed to look like."
Wally made a frustrated noise. "Just get up there and stop looking like I kicked your dog."
Dick sighed and accepted the chalk. As he powdered his hands, the children formed groups and spread out across the mat. They started doing backflips, the more advanced students holding beanbags in both hands. They mimicked drinking from them and laughed. One girl whipped out her phone when Grace wasn't looking, filming her friends.
Why did everything have come back to bite him in the ass? These trends were supposed to die within a week, but the forceful deletion of the videos gave it a layer of interest above simple meme potential. People figured it had to be the Bats who did it, which meant there was a chance Batman and the other Gotham vigilantes would see their videos. Dick couldn't even blame people for hopping on the trend—even if it was fucking awful for him.
After the Black Mask fiasco the videos had stopped vanishing, and Dick didn't want to think about what it meant. Had Tim refused? Or had Bruce told him he shouldn't bother anymore?
When Dick's hands touched the bar it felt like a mistake. The cartoon tiger stared him right in the face, and the children laughed in the background. The bruise Damian left on his side pressed against the bar.
He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He only had to build momentum, then dismount like he'd done a thousand times.
Breathe.
He somersaulted around the bar once, then pushed himself into a handstand. He fell forward, using the downward force to rotate back into a handstand. Another breath. So far so good. He spun around the bar again, and this time he kept going on his apex, pushing and pulling the bar as he forced his body to arc around it.
Another child laughed, the sound reserved and a little shy. Exactly like Damian's, in those rare moments Dick managed to catch him off guard.
Dick let go of the bar but the motion was off, vertigo twisting his head until he couldn't tell up from down. He kept his eyes closed, the images inside his head so much clearer than reality. Damian, and the little quirk of his lip as he beat Dick in a spar. Damian, and his portrait drawings that expressed the emotions his face couldn't. Damian, linking his pinkie with his because he knew how much it meant to Dick. Damian, his eyes glazing over.
Broken because he'd trusted his father.
Was this what jumping would feel like? His mind quiet except for thoughts of his son? He hoped so.
Strong arms caught him just before he hit the floor. Wally dropped him back on his feet.
"You alright?"
"Fine," Dick answered, his voice clipped. "Didn't use enough chalk. Let me try again."
"You're done, Grayson," Grace said. She'd left the kids to their backflips, grabbing the chalk brick from the floor before Dick could. "Wait for me by the reception and I'll get you your memberships."
"But I wasn't done!"
"Dick," Wally said. "Maybe she's right—"
"No, I just need to…" He pushed his hands through his hair, then pulled his ponytail tight until this scalp hurt. "Just let me try again."
"You did a lot today," Grace said. "Listen to your body and hit the showers. There's no shame in needing a break every now and then."
Wally offered him a bottle of water. Dick grabbed it, but as soon as Wally let go the bottle clattered to the ground and rolled away.
The gym turned quiet as the kids looked in their direction. They whispered to each other, eyes boring into Dick's skull.
He picked up the bottle with shaking hands.
"Yeah," he said. "Okay."
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They changed in silence. Wally seemed frustrated Dick wouldn't just tell him what was wrong, but this place had drained him so thoroughly he couldn't find it in himself to care. Talking to Wally wouldn't change his decision. And telling Wally wouldn't help much either.
Hey, I plan to kill myself somewhere this month, just wanted to tell you since you're my best friend and this is the last time we'll see each other. Hugs and kisses!
Yeah, right.
"Are you mad at me?" Wally asked.
Dick zipped his bag closed. "No."
"So do I tell Tim you don't want the membership, or—"
"Don't tell Tim anything."
"Okay, jeez." Wally held the door for him, some undecipherable expression on his face as they left the changing room.
The receptionist still sat behind his wooden desk, a book open on his lap. When he saw them, he rummaged through a cabinet and slapped two neon pink cards on the counter. Before they could grab them, however, Grace came through another door and snatched Dick's away.
"A word first, Mr. Grayson."
"You can keep it."
"It wasn't a suggestion." She walked back into her office and gestured for him to follow.
Dick looked at the other employee, who shrugged and returned to his book. "Better go see what she wants."
Wally sighed. "She probably wants to convince the great Richard Grayson to join the Olympic team." He pushed his own card on the counter back towards the man. "They all try until they crash into his thick freaking skull."
"Wally…"
"No, go on and prove me wrong. Go in there and say 'yes, I'd love to join your gym and do something fun for once.' Something normal that doesn't involve your jobs."
"You talking to me about normal?" Wally, a superhero with actual superpowers, lecturing him about normal? The fucking nerve.
"I have a life, Dick, and I'm trying to keep you in it. But you're making that really hard right now."
Good. That was how it was supposed to be, even if it made Dick dig his nails into his palm until he felt his skin break.
When Dick said nothing, Wally continued. "I'm done with coming all the way to shitty Blüdhaven just to get shut out like this. So if you want to have anything to do with me, I'll be in Central." And even though Dick knew Wally was fast, he still wasn't prepared when the man turned and exited the building without looking back.
So this was what their last goodbye was going to be like.
Good. This was good. This was necessary.
Fuck.
"Isn't Central on the other coast?" the man behind the counter asked, but Dick ignored him as he stepped into Grace's office. He was so done with this fucking day. With this fucking life. He had to hurry the fuck up and take care of his shit before this apathy made him forget all his responsibilities.
"Take a seat," Grace said as he entered her office. It was empty except for her desk, a file cabinet, and a gigantic whiteboard.
"I'm not interested," Dick said.
"I know." Grace said as she snapped the pink card in half, dropping the pieces in the trashcan next to her desk. "In fact, I was going to tell you to not come back."
"What?"
"When I heard you'd be coming to our gym, I was curious to see if the rumours were true. They said you were good, but you never competed in high school nor showed any interest in gymnastics afterwards. I even read this awful interview in the Gazette from back then, about you being this amazing prodigy with a divine passion for the sport, or some other bullshit."
He remembered it. At first, he'd been pleased to get some positive publicity, but Bruce had been concerned about the connection between him and Robin and made him quit the school team. He'd been devastated, even if a set of uneven bars appeared in the Cave a couple days later.
"And you were good today, kid, don't get me wrong. This isn't about that. But tell me, what went through your head during that last dismount?"
Dick froze.
Grace folded her hands on her desk. "I don't know you, Mr. Grayson. But I've seen that look before."
"I just fell," he said. "It happens."
Grace smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I won't have people using my equipment to hurt themselves. With that in mind, I can't give you a membership with clear conscience."
Was this woman deaf? "Good, because I don't want your goddamn membership!"
Grace scribbled a phone number on a piece of paper. "It's none of my business, but this was my daughter's therapist. He's a real saint."
Dick stared at the piece of paper like he could burn it with his gaze. He snatched it out of her hand and ripped it apart, and as the pieces fluttered to the floor, he vanished.
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A/N:
Dick: I should just go with the flow that is Wally West so he fucks off quicker.
Wally: Opens his mouth.
Dick: Aight that's it bye.
This probably wasn't what y'all were expecting, but hey, I know where I want this story to go and for that we had to run around the gym with Wally for a bit. Next time there'll be more batfam! I won't spoiler anything but I'm having a hell of a lot of fun with it!
