Notes: Still slightly sick. But getting better!
Luvit: Dick and Babs fluff is cruel? Err...how? Anyway, I'm still glad you like the fic. InvisibleBrunette and I have been tearing up tissues in frustration just to finish lol. As to our favorite character in the Batman comics or DC in general? I thought it was kinda obvious, lol: Dick Grayson.
It was a trail of contacts: middlemen, negotiators, agents. Dick doggedly followed them; from the sleazy loan shark all the way up to the crooked finance executives. It was...a lot of mileage.
"Are we any closer to this criminal mastermind you're too cowardly to confront?" Damian demanded beside him, arms crossed and lips turned down into a pout. "We have been chasing his footprints for hours."
"First of all, Robin, Barry Pierce is not exactly easy to find. We have to follow the trail of breadcrumbs that will lead to the gingerbread house. And second of all," Dick tossed him a challenging look, "who says I'm scared of Pierce?"
"Your fairytale analogy is pitiful."
"But you have to admit, it fits the situation."
"T-t."
Dick reached over a hand to ruffle Damian's hair. "Barry Pierce isn't easy to take down. As long as you-"
Robin slapped his hand away. "He needs to concentrate to use his metahuman abilities, I know. I read the files, Grayson."
"And Buddy Pierce?"
"He cannot be allowed to lose his temper or structural damage is assured."
"Good. And Cheyenne Freemont?"
The ten year old sent him a glare. "Your whor-"
"Damian!" Dick cut off his younger brother's insult. "You will not speak about people like that. Especiallyyour nephew's mother. Got that?" The boy mumbled something, scowling. "I can't hear you."
"Yes sir." Damian spat the word out like it was poison.
They drove on in silence. Dick didn't really want to scold his youngest brother, but Damian was going too far with insulting Cheyenne. It was one thing to insult someone when they were far enough away they couldn't hear you, and another when they were dead and couldn't fight back. Dick had heard his own share of offensives against his parents when Bruce had him in that preppy school. He could chalk it up to rich kids wanting to have a taste of power so early in life...but it still hurt. Even years later, it still hurts to think about. Dick wouldn't let Damian go on in this way once Dusty grew up. No, he had to nip this streak in the bud.
"Look, Dami," he sighed, "Chey is...was a nice person. A good one. She may have hidden her powers out of fear, but...when it counted, she was right there beside me, helping. Her lifestyle may have been frivolous but she had the strength to overcome her fears and help."
Damian grunted in reply, still sulking.
Dick mentally sighed again and tried to think of another way to soothe his brother's ruffled feelings and bring his point across. How did Bruce manage to soothe his feelings when he was ten and he was told not to go all Robin against his preppy, insulting classmates?
Oh right, he didn't. Alfreddid.
Alfred was the one who sat him down and told him about 'young men and their not knowing where to put their fists.' And with a mug of hot chocolate, Alfred gave him advice on how to go all Robin on his childhood bullies: not by fighting back, but by evading. While it wasn't as satisfying as feeling his fists meet flesh, all that practice had helped make him faster and more alert on the streets with Batman.
But that wasn't going to help with Damian, was it?
"Dami-" he began, but Damian cut him off.
"It does make him my nephew, doesn't it?"
The boy's voice was soft, softer than Dick expected and almost rueful. It was like Damian had just come to a conclusion that he didn't want...didn't dare to believe in. Dick wasn't sure whether it was a goodkind of conclusion or a bad one. He decided to risk it. "Yes Dami, it makes you an uncle."
Damian nodded and there was no response from his side until a few minutes later, "What does an uncle do?"
Dick stared at his youngest brother for a moment before driving forced his eyes back to watching the road. An uncle? His parents being 'only childs' themselves, Dick didn't exactly have an uncle...
But he did have Uncle Ramon the sword swallower, Uncle Harry the clown, Uncle Petre the strongman...and Uncle Clark.
He found himself smiling as he remembered Uncle Clark - Uncle Superman- and how Damian wouldn't appreciate his being compared to the Big Blue in any way. The new Robin didn't share his mentor's admiration for the alien. Damian takes after his father that way.
"An uncle can be a playmate. A best friend. A trusted babysitter." He ignored Damian's snort of dismissal and continued. "He can also be a favorite adult, except in your case you're not an adult yet."
"Get to the point, Grayson."
"Alright. In many ways, an uncle is like...a second father. Only, you're not raised by him. So you can still complain to him when your parents are being unreasonable."
Damian turned curious eyes at him. "Who did you run to when Father was being unreasonable?"
"Other than Alfred?"
"Yes."
Dick grinned. "Superman."
"T-t. The Kryptonian?"
"Bruce calls him the Big Blue Boy Scout sometimes." Dick mused, then shook his head. Whatever other nicknames Bruce called the rest of the League, they don't matter right now. "Anyway, you're already acting like Dusty's uncle, you know."
Damian gave him a sceptic look from the corner of his eye. "Explain."
"You've been watching over him while he sleeps. And I think he likes you."
"That is merely your imagination, Grayson."
"So I just imagined him smiling at you?" Dick gave him a smug grin.
Though he denied it later on, Damian's cheeks turned red. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't deny it, Dami. I've seen Dusty smile at you once while I passed by." He reached over and ruffled his brother's hair only to have his hand slapped away yet again.
"This is not the time for jokes, Grayson!" Robin hissed. "We're after the trail of a murderer and you wish to talk about your son?"
Dick let the smile fade from his lips and exhaled loudly. "Sorry, little D. I just..." Didn't want to think about the case; that the murderer we're chasing is the one who had my son's mother killed.
He drove on, barely paying attention to the passing buildings. Now I know how Roy felt when those HIVE wannabes shot Cheshire. And now I also know how Bruce felt when he went after Zucco for me.
Because now I'm coming after Barry Pierce. For Dusty.
"You're right, Damie." the new Dark Knight patted his partners head, much to the boy's chagrin. "Let's get back to work."
"Of course I'm correct." Robin grumbled. "And you did not answer my first question. Are we any closer to your mastermind?"
Dick kept silent, thinking. To be honest, Robin was right and they had been chasing shadows all along. The Pierce brothers could be out of the city and Gotham's jurisdiction by next week, at this rate. Even his tip to Det. Radley wouldn't extend to more than a few days. If he was going to catch Barry Pierce and make the charges stick, he had to take the fight to the brothers.
And then, there was also Trish. Chey had told him back at the Crescent that Trish was sick. The redhead had to resort to getting a new assistant instead for the trip to Gotham. Chey didn't bother introducing the assistant to him and he, overwhelmed by the sight of Dusty, had forgotten about her. It was an oversight Bruce would've taken out of his hide if he'd known. But it was too late now; all he could hope for to identify the assistant was the Crays' processors and the chance that her picture would be recognized.
And what about the realTrish Edgwood?
The thought brought him up short. Trish had been working for Chey for years. The news about the designer's murder should have prompted her to start calling people asking for police reports, accident reports, anything. There was even a chance Dick would be receiving a call from her. But there was nothing. And Det. Radley mentioned the assistant had been using Trish's name.
Had the police followed up on her? There'd been no updates to the report other than the autopsy or Babs would have mentioned it. And Dick would be too busy keeping his nose on Barry Pierce's trail in Gotham.
Which left only one person available to help.