Midnight and Morning
A.N.: I changed this story from just a YJ fic to a RHATO/YJ crossover, mainly because I had a general direction I was going in for this story, and after binge-reading all the issues of RHATO online, it fit too well to pass up. Enjoy!
Dick kept his hood low over his head, hoping to hide his face. It was almost midnight, so Batman was sure to be out and he was determined to avoid the man.
An acrid smell and the sound some someone exhaling drew his attention. A few yards away, some homeless circled around a fire in a trash can, warming their hands and smoking.
"Room for one more?" he nervously quipped as he drew nearer. The men glanced at him without a sound. They didn't run him off, though, so he dropped his duffel and warmed his hands with them.
"First night sleeping rough?" an old, white-bearded man at Dick's left deduced.
"Something like that," he replied.
"Then let us give you some advice," he said. "There's an alley on Chapel that's fairly well lit. Behind the church is a good place to sleep; if the Priest is feeling nice - which he usually is - he'll invite you in to spend the night, long as you're gone by morning."
"Don't count on it on Saturday nights, though," the man on Dick's right interjected, voice growling with wear. His skin was so dark that he almost blended into the night. "Sunday mass and all that."
"But if you have nice enough clothes, you can go in for the sermon. They usually have free food and coffee, just before."
"Also," the third man cut in, much younger than the other two, as he sounded in his mid-40s. "The over-50 community is a good place to go during the days. Not a lot of cops there and the older ladies will let you do chores for food or sometimes money."
"Noted," Dick replied, grateful for the words of support. "So, the police'll be easy enough to avoid," They all snorted at this. "But what about the Bat?"
The second guy shrugged. "He doesn't give anyone much trouble. Just behave yourself, and he won't pay you any mind."
"Okay," he said, nodding. "I never got your names, by the way."
"Eddie," The man on his left said. "And that's Bud-" The middle-aged man across from Dick waved. "-and Al." The man on the right smiled with a friendly nod.
Dick thanked them for the company and bade them farewell, hiking his backpack up his shoulders.
Questions of 'what if' were making his head spin.
What if this wasn't the best decision?
What if I'm caught? Dragged back?
What if I change around someone else?
He gulped, turning a corner and ducking into a better-lit alley. Since Chapel Street was on the other side of the city, he settled for a spot he knew was less visited by Batman. Just for insurance, though, he opened the dumpster's lid and rested it against the wall, a barrier from rain, bugs, and most importantly: prying eyes.
Panic dripped into his stomach as the 'what if's started again.
What if I can't find food? Money?
What if I get arrested? Who'll bail me out?
He didn't know why he'd never thought of it, but the crushing realization that he had no real resources dropped, almost physically knocking the wind out of him.
He shook his head, putting the thoughts from his mind.
He found sleep, uneasy dreams taking hold of him.
Once Nightwing was no longer patrolling - Bruce had said he just didn't want to patrol with them, but Dick had been 'grounded' from it, Tim was sure - it became a typical sight for him to be finishing up his breakfast in the dining room by the time anyone else got down there. Alfred was the real morning person, but Dick was a close second, followed by Tim.
Hence why it immediately put him on edge when he came down into the dining room to find it empty, save for Alfred setting out pancakes and syrup.
"Did Dick come down, today?" he asked.
"Not that I am aware of, Master Tim," Alfred replied, setting out a third plate.
"Did he seem sick, yesterday?"
"Did you notice him acting sick?"
Tim sat and started piling pancakes onto his plate. "No, not really."
"Nor did I. Perhaps he is simply tired, or wanting to spare his energy. The full moon is next week, after all. If I understand correctly, such a thing requires quite a measure of strength."
Tim tipped his head; the old man was probably right: Dick was just resting. Odds were he was also trying to avoid everyone else. He knew they were treating him like he was unstable - Batgirl, especially - but they weren't sure what else to do.
For Dick, hiding was probably better than dealing with the rest of them.
Bruce came down five minutes later. Tim could tell he'd taken notice that Dick wasn't in the room, but he didn't comment on it. He sat, and they ate in silence.
"I'm gonna go check on Dick," Tim said, putting his plate and silverware into the sink. Bruce didn't comment on that, either.
His mind wandered as he navigated the hallways.
Dick had been okay with the testing, right? Oh, no, what if he hated him, now? Tim didn't want to lose the relationship he had with his brother.
Tim shook his head. Of course he'd been okay with the testing. He'd consented to it, after all. He wouldn't have said "yes" if he hadn't been okay with it. Besides, he was only trying to help.
He looked up and saw the door. He knocked. No answer
"Dick?" he called, knocking again. Still no answer.
Finally, he opened the door, and a block of ice dropped into his stomach.
The room wasn't only empty, but stripped clean. His backpack was missing from the closet, as was anything that might've fit inside. A couple of books, a sleeping bag, his wallet, uniform, weapons…
The first thought that ran through his mind was that he'd been kidnapped, but that was almost immediately shot down. No kidnapper would take him out his room on the second floor, nor would they be so obsessive about closing the closet doors and making everything neat and tidy, nor would they bother to take anything.
There was only one other explanation.
Dick had run away.
His mind short-circuited as he slumped into the bed, absentmindedly opening the drawer on his nightstand. It used to so full of odds and ends that you could barely close it, but now it was only half-full with broken pieces of things and a stiff-backed bible at the bottom. The wingdings that he'd forgotten take out his pockets some days and the letter opener he'd "accidentally" shoplifted as a kid were gone.
Tim hated himself. He'd put his own brother under a microscope and treated him like a lab rat. He'd kept him at arm's length when it was the last thing he needed.
He was the reason Dick had left.
He wasn't sure how long it was until Bruce came looking for him, but eventually the man stepped into the room and settled next to him on the bed.
"It wasn't-"
"It was entirely our fault," Tim cut him off. "We treated him like shit."
"He's probably back at his apartment. He's fine. Better off." With that, Bruce left.
He couldn't tell why, but Tim didn't think Dick had gone back to Bludhaven. Something just didn't sit right.
He mulled it over as he left the room as well, making sure to leave everything as it was.
A.N.: I wanted to cut this chapter short, so you'll see the other part in the next chapter, along with two characters from some relatively little-known comics. Let me know if you spot them!
Speaking of spotting things, there were a couple of hints (not sure how subtle) as to the next chapter. What do you think will happen? Let me know! Thank you for your time, and GOD BLESS!
