Alright...Let's see how this chapter goes.
Such a Stream of Conciousness...Oh man this may be bad.
It took maybe two days for Dick to be sure the boys weren't going to do anything too amazingly stupid if he left the apartment. Robin was keeping Conner's head cool despite his own understanding of the situation. Dick was still a little surprised at how calm he'd been during all this crap. It wasn't every day one fell through time and landed themselves in their future living quarters after their future-self has just been released from the hospital against medical advice.
He tried to not snort at the flood of memories that swarmed over him. He couldn't say he enjoyed the déjà vu being played out right in front of him but he knew he was glad that he at least had a good enough memory to know exactly what went on with this bullshit.
Speaking of bullshit, there was no way in hell he'd manage to miss the chance to talk to someone he knew was going to show up sooner or later. He'd known his version of Conner hadn't been joking that he'd send Wally if he got the chance so he'd taken a bit of initiative and called Conner to Blüdhaven himself. He was standing on the roof of his apartment building, watching the city lights turn on and off for the hell of it as he waited, the sling making his shoulder itch. He knew very well that he was only wearing it to keep Conner from glaring at him but he didn't really give a damn.
"Hey," Conner called, a smile coloring his voice, from behind. Dick turned slowly, making sure to show that he was wearing his sling rather than just letting his arm swing freely. Conner gave him an appreciative nod before pointing at the roof. "Let me guess, you called because your promise to yourself."
"You're a bit of a shit head you know that?" Dick asked as he strode towards the bigger man – it was tempting to call him boy for some reason.
"Not completely my fault," Conner laughed kindly. "Seriously, my father was a bit of a shit head to me. I sort of grew up around shit heads too by the way."
"Oh so I'm a shit head too?" Dick asked.
"You still are…not calling, not writing, getting yourself a job that may as well be the one you left; I can go on if you want me to."
"Don't," Dick sighed holding up his good hand. "I'm really not in the mood."
Conner snorted at him and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Do you want me to actually do something about this or are you just going to jerk me around again?"
"When have I jerked you around lately?"
Conner glared at him. "You've been shot recently and you have newer scars. Don't tell me that you're really retired; it's a load and we both know it. The others may not but you and I do. Hell, Clark knows which means Babs knows, the new Robin knows, and Bats knows!"
"What Bats knows doesn't' really concern me anymore Con," Dick replied. "Can we get back on topic here?" Conner nodded reluctantly at him. "Savage or Warp; I need their notes or equipment."
Conner chuckled and shook his head.
"You're forgetting that you're a freakin' civilian right? Just because you were a member of the League doesn't mean you're going to get those privileges anymore. I was serious when I mentioned becoming a liaison to the League buddy. At least then you'd have some privileges."
"I have our past-selves in my apartment Conner; you know that!" Dick bellowed. "I have to get them out of this time frame before something happens."
"If memory serves, something will happen and there's shit all you and I can do to stop it," Conner shrugged. "Hell, we'll be lucky if you and I can get Bats to sign off on this."
"Can't you do this without him knowing?"
"Batman is the leader of the League Dick. Superman may be number one in strength and whatever but he still has to answer to a mortal man who doesn't really get along with him. You can't have forgotten that in all this time."
Dick sighed. He didn't want his foster father involved in this. He was just going to get irritated at them both and start to look for an alternative way to get the past-selves back home. Though, if he knew what event Conner was speaking of, he couldn't help but agree with the fact that what was going to happen would happen and there wasn't much they could do on it. All they could do was make sure the damage was minimal.
"How long did it take for us to show back up again?" Dick asked.
"A week," Conner answered gently. "Though, I only remember five days being stuck with you and your attitude; you need to work on that buddy."
"It's nice to know you care so fucking much Conner…You know as well as I do, that they can't stay here in this time frame. There are too many chances they'll learn something they shouldn't take back with them."
"There's not much we can do with what's going on Dick," Conner shrugged. "If they're going to stay four to five days, they're staying that long. All we can do is make sure they don't stay longer than that."
Dick frowned at his old friend for a moment before turning away with a frustrated growl. He scratched his head with his good hand in irritation as he looked out onto his city, mildly wondering if the thoughts that plagued him now were what plagued Bruce for all those years. Dismal thoughts that should never have entered his life at the age they did bubbled to the surface every time he looked over a city from a roof top or a plane.
It looks peaceful…is it though? Is it really all that quiet or is there something happening in the alleys below me; something sick and horrid? Is a mother with her children? Is a father being loving to his children? Are the criminals too scared to leave their little hideouts anymore? Is everything valuable still where it belongs? Is there a nut running around my city?
"You look like Batman," Conner muttered a bit bitterly as he joked. Dick however, never one to take a joke, flung a loose bit of stone at his head. He ducked quickly enough and the stone arched in the air until it slammed into the side of the Roof access door's brick shed. "It was a joke."
"You're your father's son alright," Dick sneered. "Always coming in with shit timing. When will you two realize no Bat-family member can take a joke?"
"Not my fault you're warped," Conner shrugged easily. "That's all Batman's fault and you know it Dick. Unlike me, you weren't born to become a hero."
"Fate and circumstance would tell you otherwise," Dick scoffed in annoyance. "I've been at it longer than you Con so don't tell me I'm not good enough in such a sly way."
"First off, you were at it longer than I have been until maybe about a year ago. In case you forgot, you left; retired as I remember it. Second off, it wasn't me who sucker punched his mentor for hiding things from him; I at least had some tact in just muttering under my breath to friends who had my back. Third, you call that sly? You've gotten rusty Dick."
You know I'm not rusty," Dick snarled. "Or is your memory failing you?"
Conner stared at him in amazement, his memory flashing to the incident when Dick had pinned him to the counter of his kitchenette a bit too easily for comfort. Dick could tell from the expression on his face he'd remembered what had happened only a few days ago for their past-selves; a combination of years and moments to them.
"I'm leaving before I do something stupid," Conner muttered softly before he turned away from his friend. He kicked off with hardly any sound before spinning a bit to face his friend once more. Dick tried to not think about how Superman-like Conner looked while he 'stood' in mid-air like a god of sorts.
"Thought you were leaving," he muttered softly.
"Thought I'd warn you the team's chasing someone and they've been moving towards this place so…you may have to deal with unexpected visits."
"Oh that's great; just great. Now I'm going to leave before I do something stupid," Dick growled, giving his friend a dismissive wave before striding back inside.
There was hardly anything else he could do now that he and Conner had gotten into one of their suddenly common spats. Those had started roughly about the time Dick had realized he was growing too old to be called the 'Boy' Wonder and was finding himself a bit more than irritated that he was being treated like an incompetent.
Then there was the whole Barbara being Batgirl and his never knowing while Batman had acted like he'd never known. It had been amazingly satisfying to sucker punch the man in the jaw on the rooftops of Gotham before setting out on his own to find his own way. Naturally, it didn't really help he'd gone to Superman for a bit of advice before leaving. HE should have known Conner would have found out from there since those two had gotten closer over the past decade or so.
He couldn't say that it was a complete bust though. He'd told him about an old Kryptonian legend called Nightwing and the name had sort of rung in his head for months afterwards. He never expected to build himself another moniker from it though. He blamed Bruce's training, how it was welded into his very core and he seemed unable to escape its oddly comforting embrace. There was stability in some of this even if it was insanity. He knew his own morals and he knew how to act on them.
Damn Blockbuster to hell and back; he didn't like that he'd been inactive when the female Tarantula killed him but he'd seen it as the only real way to stop the man. However, it still haunted him. He couldn't talk to Amygdala anymore since he'd gone nuts again since his old apartment had been blown up killing most of their neighbors. Hell, in some ways he missed his conversations with the pulp novel writer John Law – the original Tarantula.
He was still pissed Roland Desmond had managed to get out of the League's reaches after news had gotten out that he'd blamed Nightwing for killing his mother months back.
There had been plenty of other reasons for the League to get involved through that too. Torque, a corrupt cop, was feeding information; his head still 180 degrees in the wrong direction after Blockbuster decided he was too dangerous to have around.
Then there was Tad Ryerstad – NiteWing, former possible apprentice of his, and unbalanced sociopath to boot – who'd not only killed Torque, he'd decided to take out all his frustration and anger on anyone he deemed to be a criminal. Thanks to his shitty life, his perceptions were a little out of whack and if Dick had known how unstable he was before he'd tried to help him, he would have gotten him into Arkham or Belle Reeve sooner. Of course, he wasn't Bruce.
During all that, everyone in the Bat-family was still dealing with Jason Todd's death. He still had yet to meet Timothy "Tim" Drake in person before Bruce finally called saying he'd like him to meet him.
"Are those arguments going to become normal?" a soft voice questioned softly from below him. He glanced down to see his own blue eyes staring up at him.
"My Conner may know about who you are – will be, whatever – but your Conner might still be in the dark."
"That's complete crap and you and I know it," the younger him said. "Let's face it; that scar is one of a million she could have given me but I doubt it was the only one he saw."
"It's never going to be the only one he'll see or the only one you'll get," the elder said as he stepped down towards the boy version of himself. "Let's think of it this way; if you want him to know now, let him know. If you don't, adhere to Bruce's rules."
The boy looked at him with a concerned expression. "Answer my question."
"Yes. You'll understand when you get to my age though so don't ask any further right?"
"Whatever."
"Go to bed. I've got a couple calls to make and I don't really plan on leaving the apartment unless I have to. We'll see if I can get anything on getting you two home alright?"
"Fine, whatever you say."
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