Dick Grayson is coping.
Still suffering from the death of the woman he'd fallen in love with, Dick is back at work after spending time at home to rest and recuperate. His partner worries for him constantly.
New faces in the station provide a brief distraction from the monotony of spending his days as an officer and his nights as Nightwing. A new friend is just what the doctor ordered for his depression.
A week ago, Dick never would have thought that his savior would be an oversized thermos of coffee, but as he filled the thermos, the bitter scent of the black coffee made him smile a bit. It was a simple action that he took every day, no matter what had happened in the days before; Dick always had his thermos and his coffee and he went to work. It was a reassuring routine. A sign that everything hadn't just collapsed around him. Despite the pounding in his head and the aching in what seemed like every muscle in his body, Dick had dragged himself out of bed and sloppily tugged on his police uniform; he hadn't slept anyway, and working was a better use of his day than trying to sleep longer.
He scooped his thermos off of the counter and left his apartment, and then he drove to the station. When he entered, unfamiliar faces turned to look at him. A man whispered across the desk to his partner. Another scurried out of Dick's way as he walked to his desk, dropped the thermos down with a heavy thunk, and slid into his chair. It felt like his fractured ribs were threatening to break in his chest.
"The new kids?" he asked Will, who was still looking at his computer. Dick glanced around. "They look like they all just came straight from their damn training," he sighed, examining the fresh young faces. When Will glanced up to respond, he did a double take. Dick's appearance was a shock; his face was marred with bruises on nearly the entire left side, tape over his nose and the stitched cut on his forehead. His uniform was disheveled, and dark circles rimmed his reddened eyes.
"Jesus! You look worse," Will exclaimed. "Should you even be here today?"
"Didn't stop you when you got poisoned," Dick muttered bitterly, taking a drink from his thermos as his eyes combed through the faces of their new co-workers in the room, mentally cataloging each of their features, obvious habits, and names as he did.
"Not quite the same as coming to work looking like Frankenstein's monster," Will told him.
"What else am I supposed to do?" Dick snapped, looking at him irritably. He bit his lip, his face softening a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm…" he trailed off, watching one of the officers distractedly. Will threw a pencil at him. Dick jumped.
"You gotta quit beating yourself up about this."
"I… wait, what? About what?" Dick blinked slowly and looked at Will, his eyes still looking a million miles away.
"About the break up and the car accident. Things will look up eventually."
Dick scoffed softly and looked down at the pencil in his hands. "I don't think you're right."
"You never know," Will said, crumpling up a paper and tossing it in the trash. "She could change her mind."
"She won't," he choked, hiding his eyes with his hair as he closed them.
"Hey Vets."
Will and Dick both looked up at the woman who'd spoken, an officer who couldn't have been over 22, with an unfamiliar swoop nose and narrow blue-green eyes. She looked at them both expectantly.
"Hey," Will said, "welcome to the force."
"'Bout time somebody said it," she grinned. Her Boston accent was heavy, but somehow feminine at the same time. "The name's Joan. Joan Louis. I've heard about you two, the Commissioner talks 'bout you all the time. At least he did all through my interview," she gave a half-cocked smile, thrusting out her hand. "Pleasure." Dick ignored her hand, so Will shook it.
"Nice to meet you Joan. It's nice to have you here." Will tried to overcompensate for Dick's obvious indifference. She raised an eyebrow at Dick.
"The hell's wrong with him?" Joan asked, jerking her head at Dick; her mousy brown bob flicked in the same direction. It was like her hair never stayed in one place, it was always falling on her shoulder or slipping down her cheek from behind her ear or getting stuck behind the lenses of her glasses, where she'd tug it out and push the nosepiece higher on her nose. Dick looked up at her and she was completely unfazed by his appearance. He still didn't say anything.
"He's going through a rough time," Will said simply.
"Girl trouble, kid?" she asked, planting a hand on her hip. Dick scoffed.
"You calling me a kid, rookie?" He leaned back in his chair and immediately regretted it, feeling like his ribs were going to snap.
"What if I am?" She laughed. "I've had my fair share of relationship trouble. But hey. I'm new in town and looking for some drinking buddies. Join me tonight?"
"It's Tuesday," Dick stared at her.
"We can pretend it's Friday for a little while. You in, Will?" She glanced at him, her hair sliding over her shoulder. It was much shorter on the left than it was on the right.
"No thanks. The wife would kill me."
"Tied down, huh? In the defense of my detective skills, you were hiding your ring with your other hand," she shrugged. "That leaves you, kid."
"Don't call me that."
"You in?"
"I'm busy."
"Doing what?" She pressed, cocking her head, her bangs slipping out from behind her ear.
"Working," Dick glanced at Will, and then picked up his thermos.
"You've got the day shift right now, kid, you won't work tonight!" She cried. Dick smiled a little at her persistence.
"I work two jobs. But maybe another time," he added, and her eyes gleamed.
"See you 'round then, kid," she winked, walking back to her desk.
"Just when I thought I could retire that nickname for you," Will sighed.
"Oh shut up," Dick muttered, opening a new window on his computer.
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go to your 'second' job tonight," Will pleaded with him. "You just got out of the hospital."
"I can handle myself, Will," Dick said distractedly, typing the words 'Joan Louis' into the search bar. He scrolled through the results until he found the right one. "Besides. Something tells me I'll need to be out tonight. The others- they'll be busy with other things, and it's my job…" Dick trailed off, scanning the screen.
"And what are the others going to be so busy with?" Will asked sarcastically.
"You don't want me to answer that," Dick smiled a little, glancing at Will and then looking back to his computer screen. "She's a genius."
"What?" he asked, lost.
"What?" Dick looked at him, and then shook his head. "Forget my other job. That has nothing to do with this- that girl is a genius." He breathed, laughing wryly. "Why the hell would she want to be a cop?"
"The better question is: why are you googling her?"
"It's not google, its a… more reliable database." Dick looked pointedly at him, warning him not to ask. "Joan Pearl Louis graduated high school at age fifteen. She's written two books, her parents are both incredibly famous lawyers in DC, and she has some of the highest recorded test scores I've ever seen. SAT, Entrance Exams to Harvard, Yale, MIT… She's a genius. She scored higher than you on her tests to be a cop, too," Dick glanced at Will. "The question is, why did she want to be a cop? She could've done anything."
"I don't know." Will pointed a ballpoint pen at him, "You're the one looking through her file."
Dick leaned back in his chair. "It looks like theres an almost-arrest record, too. But theres not. It's like she was, but she wasn't ever arrested. A scuffle, and only one news story that holds record of it. Her parents must've cleared it up. Covered it up. She technically has no criminal record."
"I give up!" Will exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and leaning back in his chair. "What are you thinking?"
Dick glanced at Joan where she sat at her desk, clicking lazily through reports on her computer. He was either ignoring Will or hadn't heard him, lost in thought. Dick finally looked back to Will. "The only blemish on her record, or almost-blemish, if it had ever been processed; is vigilantism." Will stared at him for a second.
"You people are everywhere!"
Dick rolled his eyes. "Could we keep that on the down-low please? Don't make me regret confiding in you. For the hundredth time," he added at the end, rubbing his temple.
"I'm sorry, but is it like a prerequisite to work as a police officer or something? Should I be suspicious of the Commissioner?"
Only his daughter, Dick thought. "Of course not. Actually, I'm the only one that I know of," he lied.
"Well what about Miss Young and Peppy over there?" Will asked, waving at Joan.
"As far as I can tell, it was in her teens, and it wasn't… as in-depth as some of the ones we have here in Gotham." Dick shrugged, taking a drink of his coffee and turning back to his work.
"Sorry, I'm new to this whole thing. I didn't realize there was a scoring system."
Dick rolled his eyes, not responding. He had a pile of reports to scan and catalog, and he knew he'd fall behind if they kept chatting. Commissioner Gordon walked in the room, and Dick hid his face with his hair, shrinking into his jacket. The footsteps tapped on the linoleum and stopped by his desk, and Dick didn't look up.
"Don't think I don't see you Grayson," Gordon said, crossing his arms as he glared down at him. Dick closed his eyes, swallowing his irritation and then smiling up at Gordon.
"I guess I left my invisibility cloak at home," he sighed. "Can I help you, Commissioner?" Dick asked cheerfully, biting his lip. Please don't send me home.
"If I remember correctly, you shouldn't even be out of the hospital yet."
Joan glanced over her shoulder at them curiously, overhearing Gordon's words. Dick met her eyes, and she watched him as he looked up at the Commissioner.
"I got out early. Good behavior."
"Lying to the Police Commissioner. Very cute." Gordon didn't smile.
"You used to think it was," Dick pointed out.
"If you think it's so cute, how about this lie? You better still be here when I come back in ten minutes." Gordon turned and walked back toward his office. Dick pursed his lips and looked at Will, swinging back and forth in his swivel chair.
"Did that sound like he put me on traffic duty to you?"
"You really want to try that again?" Will asked skeptically.
"That's what it sounded like to me," Dick pondered.
"If you say so, but I don't know anything, okay?" Will scooped the keys off his desk and stood up.
"Of course not, you're only disappearing when I do, getting in my police cruiser, and maybe buying me lunch…" Dick stood, stretching. He winced in pain.
"And possibly admitting you back into a hospital," Will added as they headed for the door.
"That's out of the question." Dick said seriously.
"I thought so," Will muttered. "So food first before you get another concussion?"
"I don't remember the last time I ate. Food would be awesome," Dick said, getting in the car. Will slid into the driver's seat.
"The diner then?" Will asked, before thinking it was a mistake. Dick's face fell. He had gone there with Lee. "Or we could go somewhere different for a change," he quickly added. "I don't know, McDonald's maybe?" Dick glanced out the window and then looked at his hands in his lap, biting his lip. He'd almost forgotten. For the moment, he'd almost been past her. And now he didn't even have his thermos.
"Are you more of a Burger King place?" Will joked halfheartedly, seeing but not understanding Dick's distress. He hated seeing his partner so upset.
"I think I'll just skip lunch, actually," Dick said quietly.
"You need to eat something," Will objected.
"I'm not…" Dick trailed off, knowing that he had no excuse. "I don't feel like it," he shrugged petulantly.
"You just said you didn't remember the last time you ate. I have a four year old. You can't think you're getting away with anything like that." Will started the car and began backing out. Dick said nothing, running a hand through his hair. "So either pick a place, or I will pick one for you," Will warned.
"Pick," he sighed, looking out the window.
"Alright," Will said, pulling away from the station. "But you aren't going to like it."
"What?" Dick turned to look at him suspiciously. "Why won't I like it? Where are you taking me, Will?" Will didn't say anything as he drove.
"Collins? Grayson? That squad car better be headed for Grayson's apartment building," Gordon's voice snapped over the radio on the dash.
"We were just going to go get lunch," Dick protested.
"It had better be from your refrigerator," Gordon said. "I want you home." Dick rolled his eyes, and the Commissioner hesitated. "We're worried about you, Dick. Trust me, this is for the best. I'm suspending you until further notice."
"What!?" Dick cried, grabbing the mic. "Commissioner, I'm well enough to work! I can do this!" he practically shouted.
"I'm sorry, Grayson. If you come to work under suspension, I have the power to fire you. Stay home and get some rest. You can come back when I say so, and that means when you're fixed up and better. Collins, take him home please, and bring his cruiser back to the station when you're finished."
"Don't worry Commissioner; I'm taking him somewhere where he will be taken care of." Dick recognized the road they were taking. The radio fell silent and Dick dropped his head in his hands.
"I really, really, really would like you to take me to my apartment," he pleaded weakly.
"For you to starve yourself and mope around? No way. I want to know that someone is making sure you don't just waste away."
"Then… take me back to your place. Drop me off at the hospital. At Arkham… anywhere but here." Dick begged him as Will turned the car onto the gravel driveway that wound through a canopy of trees toward Wayne Manor.
"I told you that you wouldn't like it if I picked."
Dick fell silent, staring up at the towering mansion. "That's an understatement." Will pulled the squad car to a stop, and Alfred stepped outside the front doors to welcome them.
"I brought someone to see you!" Will called, stepping out to the car. Dick closed his eyes, already bracing himself for the look on Alfred's face when he saw that his wounds had gotten worse than when he'd last seen him. Stepping out of the car, Dick walked slowly to the front steps of the Manor; he tried his hardest not to remember the last time he'd run down those stairs.
"Hey, Al," Dick cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Master Dick," Alfred said in alarm.
"He's been suspended," Will informed him. "And I can't make him eat. I figured if I left him here, he'd get taken care of." Dick looked down guiltily at his boots on the gravel.
"Yes, he will be. Thank you," Alfred told Will. Will patted Dick once on the shoulder before walking back to the squad car. Dick looked at Alfred.
"It would be great if you could tell me that no one else is here," he said halfheartedly, knowing it wasn't true, but he didn't want the others to see him like this.
"It's is just Master Damian and myself," Alfred told him, ushering him into the house. Dick felt a bit of relief. Damian had seen him look worse. "Now go get cleaned up while I make you something to eat," Alfred commanded him before walking away. Dick looked sadly around the grand foyer, and then walked up the stairs to his bedroom.
Leaving the door cracked behind him, Dick tossed his jacket on the bed and went into the bathroom; he winced in pain as he unloaded his belt, gun, and badge on the counter and then pulled his shirt off. After Barbara had left yesterday, Dick had set off in his Nightwing uniform. He'd needed anything to distract him from Lee. He'd spent the better part of the night hunting down any criminal activity he could find and shut down, and as he'd already been pretty beaten up from the car accident, he'd picked up a few scrapes and bruises as he fought. Dick knew it had been a stupid decision. When the church bells in Gotham had sung midnight, Dick had found himself perched on the top of the Wayne Enterprises building, lost in thought. Now, he didn't want to think. The pain was a constant ebbing at the back of his mind, knowing that she was gone.
Of course, you've experienced loss before, Dick thought, returning to the bedroom and pulling a fresh gray t-shirt out of the dresser. But somehow this is different.
"Richard?" Damian asked, pushing his bedroom door open. Dick looked over his shoulder as he walked back into the bathroom.
"Damian. What's up?" he asked, returning to the bedroom with his heavy belt in his hand. He placed it on top of the dresser, took the gun out of it's holster, and set it neatly beside the belt.
"What are you doing here?" Damian watched him.
"I came here to keep an eye on you," Dick smiled, folding his jacket and placing it on the dresser as well.
"You look terrible," Damian informed him. "What did you do this time?"
"Went looking for trouble," Dick sighed, turning to Damian and putting his hands on his hips. "It's really that bad?"
"Considering your normal state of being is horrible," Damian said as he sat down on the bed, "it isn't the worst it could be."
Dick yawned. "Thanks, Damian," he mumbled, and then crawled onto the bed, his exhaustion overwhelming him in the familiarity and comfort of the room. Dick slid under the covers, looking up at Damian where he sat. The kid had grown so much since they'd worked together.
"Don't you have a place of your own," he asked Dick pointedly.
"Yeah. Did you ever think that maybe I miss you guys?" Dick asked, yawning widely again.
"Your food Master Dick," Alfred said, stepping in through the open door carrying a tray. Dick sat up a little.
"Thanks, Al, you can leave it there on the nightstand." He smiled a little, and then glanced at Damian as Alfred left, still sitting cross legged on the bed. Dick suddenly wrapped his arms around Damian and tugged him down under the covers, holding him tight against his struggling.
"What are you doing?" Damian demanded. "Let me go!"
Dick didn't respond, hugging the boy close and closing his eyes. "I'm going to go to sleep like Alfred told me to," he smiled a little.
"What does that have to do with you attacking me?" Damian asked, but he stopped fighting Dick.
"I'm not attacking you. It's a hug, you baby." Dick snapped, pressing his face into the pillows tiredly. "It's a good thing you stopped struggling, too, I've got cracked ribs and that was starting to hurt. Now go to sleep."
"It's the middle of the day."
"Bats are nocturnal. Go to sleep." Damian curled into a ball beside him. Dick smiled, relaxing into the blankets and drifting off, his arms still around his brother.