After Bruce's last… Dick didn't know what to say about it. He could only call it betrayal.
Dick was filled with a lot of feelings he didn't like. Feelings he didn't want to be a part of who he was. He felt very much detached from everyone he had ever thought loved him.
His brain and heart betrayed him and every time he tried to review his life. He could only focus on the times when people let him down.
There was when Bruce fired him as Robin supposedly for taking reckless risks only to replace him with a younger boy a week after he left, then letting that same completely green kid onto the streets and adopting him. Dick was Bruce's ward until he aged out of the system. Now technically, he was Bruce's nothing. Sometimes he was his soldier, his sacrifice, his spy?
The Young Justice team turned on him after the simulation and again after the invasion and Kid Flash's death. He'd been younger then. Now looking back on it, he probably should have stood up for himself more. The team had been young too.
Tim, Jason and Damien, well the kindest way to put it was that all of the Robins were messed up and when they were hurting, they hurt each other.
Barbara… Dick couldn't even think about her right now. Their tumultuous relationship had been on again, off again for years. She still had his ring. After the miscarriage, he didn't want to attack her when she was vulnerable so he left. He left Gotham. He even left Bludhaven.
"We didn't plan for it. It just happened," Bruce had said.
Dick had blinked at that statement. Batman and Batgirl conceived a child but they didn't mean too? My fiance and my father? Ward or son, foster father or dad, did it make a difference? What in the world possessed Babs to hit the streets in costume when she knew tucked inside her was a tiny innocent spark of life? No matter who the father was, Dick didn't understand either of them.
He had to write it down and stare at it to understand it.
Is Barbara Gordon attracted to me at all?
No. Yes. A little but not enough for a marriage to mean anything.
Okay...
Is Barbara Gordon attracted to Bruce?
I don't think so?
Is Barbara Gordon attracted to Batman?
Yes. Batgirl was created because on so many levels she is captivated by him.
Does Barbara Gordon love me?
No.
Does Barbara Gordon hate me?
No. You don't really matter to her at all. She agreed to marry you because… you've just always been there? Because it is flattering to be doted on?
Does Batgirl even like me?
Doubtful she even sees Nightwing and not the little Boy Wonder, Robin. She doesn't like it when I'm more competent than her at things. Hacking, fighting, detective work will always be turned into a competition. She often seems jealous of any attention Batman has for me.
By the time Dick wrote that sentence down he was quite drunk but sobered up he didn't think the sentence needed erasing.
Does Bruce hate me?
No.
Does Bruce love me?
Yes.
Does Bruce like me?
Enough to tell me that he slept with her but not enough to think of me before sleeping with her? Enough to miss me when I'm gone but not enough to stop himself from doing everything in his power to drive me away. … so not so much.
Do I love Babs anymore?
I don't want to be married to her. Maybe one day we can be friends again but not until she can look at me without blaming me for all of this. I don't want revenge. I don't want to hate her. I don't want to be hurt but I am.
Do I still love Bruce?
I love the memory of who Bruce used to be. I still love Bruce, flaws and all but I hate him too.
Do I love me?
I don't know anymore. Did I do this to them? They both seem shattered. Am I just not enough to make a true positive impact on anyone?
Dick at the moment was filled with such darkness towards everything that he didn't want to be a part of this world. He didn't want to die; life was sacred but he didn't want to live.
Finally after looking through old photo albums and mission reports he did something no one anticipated. He went to Doctor Fate with a proposal. Zatara loves his daughter. Let them have each other and I will be your host. This will help me fight the chaos inside me right now.
Doctor Fate looked pensive. He was a Lord of Order. Zatara was an excellent host. Zatara's capacity for magic made him a much stronger candidate than the former Boy Wonder but a completely willing host who was fully aware of what he was volunteering for was tempting. The former Boy Wonder had fought chaos most of his life and he needed Nabu.
Nabu insisted Zatara be at his beck and call just in case he needed the stronger magician. Zatara was quick to agree. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Dick wanted anonymity. He didn't want anyone to know he had taken the role of Doctor Fate. He personally desperately needed to distance himself from all of the confrontation, the excuses and explanations. He wasn't ready for any of it.
Nabu wanted nothing to do with Batman and so agreed to the request for anonymity and helped Dick compose some emails to keep the bat appeased.
I need time away. Please do not look for me or expect me to be in contact. I am fine. There are people in the community who know where I am and who are with me. I need space. Please grant me at least that much.
Dick
Dick was so angry he couldn't bring himself to write an affirmation of love, loyalty, sincerity or even friendship but neither did he attack Bruce in his last communication so he figured there was that at least. The answer to his last communication?
Understood.
Dick looked at the one word reply from Bruce and shook his head. No Bruce, he thought to himself, I don't really think you do understand.
For the next twenty years Dick served as Doctor Fate with no one the wiser. Batman wondered what had happened to him but never investigated seriously. Whenever someone took it upon themselves to look into "What ever happened to Nightwing?" Nabu left a clue or two that somewhere out there Dick was alright. The general consensus seemed to be that the former Boy Wonder had earned retirement.
Dick Grayson was not dead but neither was he alive. A lord of Order looked out of his eyes but Robin, Nightwing, Richard or his consciousness rested in limbo. He lent willpower towards order when needed. The intelligence, passion for right, knowledge, reaction times, physicality, kindness, creativity, ingenuity and everything else that was the last Grayson served Nabu in trust.
Nabu was what Dick had needed for a long, long time. He fought chaos with an unemotional detachment founded in a love of order rather than a hate of chaos. In the tower of Fate Dick and Nabu had long talks about what motivates people. The position of Doctor Fate had been held by many people now and each person had left their mark.
For Richard it was much like a long dream. Sometimes he caught glimpses of what he was up to. Sometimes very strong feelings about a scenario ghosting across the edges of his consciousness would cause him to actually influence things in the real world but most of the time he was not aware or awake.
Nabu helped Dick find the compassion within himself by dulling the anger until Dick could be impartial again. Nabu knew Richard was healed when finally they began to talk about his foster family directly.
"Compassion, forgiveness, nurturing and love may come in part from a higher power but they must also be taught," Dick explained during a long discussion between him and Nabu regarding the Bat family.
"You've heard the expression formative years?" Nabu added. They talked and bounced ideas off of each other for a long time
Long talks in the quiet walls of the Tower of Fate were Richard's only true waking moments. He and Nabu became friends. If Richard ever had a superpower, friendship was that power. Nabu learned a lot about people while trying to help his lost host regain faith in both himself and others.
"I don't think it's that anyone ever loved you less than they were able to Richard. Gotham, Bludhaven and the hero community in general is filled with broken souls."
The sorcerer that ended the partnership between Nabu and Richard was a master of time. Doctor Fate had met a foe so powerful that he could not overcome the sorcerer without Zatara. Richard was unaged by his time suspended in the role of Doctor Fate. He stepped down but he was still needed. Doctor Fate cast a great spell; to send the agent he knew he could trust best, to send the agent he knew would understand the limitations of fate, into the past to right the discord set into motion by the evil master of time.
"Remember Richard. I ,"
"We," Richard corrected. Richard had been working with Nabu over the years to teach the old master to remember his host was a living being that deserved the respect of acknowledgement.
"We," agreed Doctor Fate who was essentially a composite of Zatara and Nabu. "You are still so frustrating, I've forgotten now what I was going to say."
"You were going to remind me that travelling in time I must obey the restrictions of fate or undo all our efforts. Do not take a life or save a life. Give no one knowledge of the future. How far back am I going?"
"50 years. Richard, it's a one way trip. We can send you back but you will return the long way. Don't seek me, us out until after the moment you've been sent back. It might create a catastrophic paradox. You won't age as long as there are two of you in the timeline."
"So I go back 50 years into the past and I won't start ageing until 50 years have passed?"
"You'll start ageing in 30 years when you no longer have an overlapping presence in the world. You've been in a sort of limbo."
"So in 30 years time I'll start to age. To clarify, I need to avoid you for the full 50 years. Is there anyone else I should avoid?"
"Avoid yourself and avoid revealing the future."
"What if I change something important accidentally?"
"GO! Binge watch Doctor Who! Time and Fate has a lot of wiggle room. Just don't go looking to make big changes! And no vigilante nonsense," an exasperated Nabu encouraged. Dick had rubbed off on him.
Dick went back into the past. The real mission took all of five minutes. Defusing bombs was old hat. So now to live.
Bruce was young. His parents were still alive.
Dick created an identity and studied, eventually becoming a teacher at Gotham Academy. It was no coincidence that Bruce was his student when the Waynes were murdered.
Mr. Grey wasn't afraid to talk to Bruce. Mr. Grey called him out on his behaviour when he acted up and helped guide him rather than make excuses for him. Mr. Grey noticed bullying and did more than anyone else to stop it. He never pitied Bruce but he seemed sympathetic and awesomely aware. He seemed to just know things. Bruce didn't have a single other teacher that would look him in the face and tell him that having something horrible happen to you doesn't give you a free ticket to start being horrible too.
Mr. Grey started this journal thing? The "Journal of Awesome Bruce Stuff" was filled with such mundane nonsense.
"Bruce let Amy use his pencil sharpener. Being prepared and prepared to share is truly a super power."
"Bruce laughed at Roger's stupid jokes and told a joke of his own. Way to be inclusive and friendly."
"Bruce looked at Hasnain and in a calm voice explained what was bugging him. Excellent eye contact. It makes people feel important. It makes people take you seriously."
Every kid in the class had a "Journal of Awesome." Each day you picked a partner at random and had to put one awesome thing about the person in the journal as a handwriting exercise. Bruce's journal was the example journal because Wayne with a W was the last letter in the class name list so; everyday it had a teacher example and a student entry. You were graded on handwriting, spelling and quality of comment.
Most of the kids liked Mr. Grey. Bruce didn't want to imagine Gotham Academy without him though he did think the man was infuriating at times.
"How old are you Mr. Grey?" asked Bruce bluntly in the middle of the parent teacher interview.
Alfred looked a little embarrassed.
"I'm a little older than Mr. Pennyworth. Bruce, you'll find age matters less as you hit adulthood. We learn our whole lives through but by the time someone is an adult they've usually decided on who they are going to be. Are you going to be awesome?"
Bruce tutted rather like Damien once had.
"In ten years time, I expect you to be more awesomer," challenged Mr. Grey.
"That's not even proper English," Bruce snarked. "And you seriously overuse the word awesome. I don't think you even know what it means."
Alfred hid a smile because Bruce despite his protests had stood up straight and nodded as if he'd been given an order. Last year right after the Waynes died Bruce had been so very difficult. This year had been better. Alfred wasn't sure why Bruce responded so well to Mr. Grey but he recognized the man's incredible positive influence.
Bruce had written Alfred a Father's day card as a part of a class project. It hadn't said father on the card but it was given on Father's day. Alfred had been thanked in carefully thought out language for one hundred things. Bruce started writing his card to his dead father but Mr. Grey had redirected him to Alfred. "We keep those we've lost in our hearts but they don't need corporeal gifts of our affection anymore. Those who are with us now should be reminded of our thankfulness and appreciation in ways they can see, touch and hear. Do you understand the distinction Bruce?"
"I guess so," Bruce had mulishly replied.
Alfred had the card framed. Bruce was incredibly self destructive and wearying to deal with during those early times. The card though a little thing was a comfort.
Things went downhill again after Bruce went to high school.
Using his teacher's credentials, Mr Grey a few years later started a free welfare financed home based daycare in the slums. He made sure one Jason Todd had a spot from the time he was three months old until he was five and aged out of the welfare based program.
Jason is probably too young to remember me, though Dick watching as Jason waved goodbye.
First rate teachers credentials and a daycare history allowed him to take a job as a caregiver in the Drake household. Timothy from age two to four was taught preschool skills. Mr. Grey was fired when Tim asked his parents for a hug. Drakes didn't hug and proper teachers don't hug. Mr. Grey was not allowed to say goodbye. Mr. Grey managed to sneak Tim a note goodbye in a stuffed tiger. It was the only comfort toy the boy was ever given.
"Timothy, you are smart and kind and deserving of love and attention. Anytime someone makes you forget that, Mr. Grr is here to remind you."
Damien was the hardest. Mr. Grey had to find his way into the League of Assassins in a role that resulted in neither taking nor saving a life. He taught languages. He was good with languages. Getting out of the League was almost harder but oddly enough Talia had taken a liking to him and with her support he retired to Gotham. He still had to avoid Bludhaven for a while. He'd played the role of a teacher for nearly 25 years at that point.
When he returned to Gotham he was surprised to see the Bat stealthily looking in on him from time to time. Maybe he'd learned about his time teaching in League of Assassins. Dick did nothing to draw attention to himself; he just lived what seemed a quiet retirement. Dick looked like an old man. He hadn't aged but neither had his body renewed itself. The result mimicked old age.
Dick did wonder a little if he'd changed anything. He'd taken no lives and saved no lives, at least not directly which was all that mattered. The time stream was flexible enough to handle a few ripples. As year thirty approached it was with some amount of trepidation that he prepared to step out of his role as Mr. Grey and into his role as himself.
Mr. Grey was part of the lives of a lot of teachers, students and community leaders but Dick fancied he'd lived 30 years as a fixture in background of lives with few really close attachments. He'd had 50 years of celibacy after 20 years of Doctor Fate and 30 years as Mr. Grey who could not under any circumstances create a life. He had friends from this second life who were good, kind people. He knew he'd be missed at least a little.
Dick wondered what the shift in the timeline would mean for him. There would be a shift. A moment when old memories and new developments overlapped and the new timeline would assert itself on him and things would change.
It didn't happen all at the last moment. His neighbour Mrs. Breyer thought he was getting senile. He remembered things that didn't happen and the closer the time shift came the more it felt like he could almost remember things that had happened in a youth he'd not lived but had lived as the force of two timelines pushed down on him. It should all self-correct in the end. Dick put his affairs in order suspecting that Mr. Grey would be incompatible with the time shift.
After thirty years of timelessness, time was going to start up soon. Injuries hadn't healed but he'd never gotten sick and muscle tone had stayed the same. He'd twisted his knee twenty five years ago and it had stayed twisted, getting neither worse nor better. It would be good to be done with the cane and his hair would start growing again, healing again. He looked ancient and felt that way too. Once the magic set him free he would heal and slowly start looking like a 28 year old again although he wasn't sure it wouldn't be like dying and being reborn to 28.
To the world it seemed Mr. Grey who had been ailing for some time had a stroke which shortly thereafter resulted in heart failure. It was almost what happened. His heart stopped for the entire length of a carefully ordered spell then Dick woke in the hospital moments after they'd pulled a sheet over his head. He had vague memories of Mr. Grey and Dick Grayson but everything was confusing and muddled. Instinct told him to stay silent and still. He listened and played along as his time of death was recorded. Once alone he followed the instructions he'd left himself concealed in a message in his not really a hearing aid, hearing aid. He altered a few hospital records to indicate he'd been cremated and slipped out into the night feeling truly hungry for the first time in thirty or fifty years. When he'd been Dr. Fate hunger hadn't really touched him either.
His apartment in Bludhaven was still there. He went home and shaved his head and face. He looked younger already but still grey. He put some ice on his knee and dabbed antibiotics on thirty years worth of cuts and scrapes. He flopped on his bed exhausted and sore. Thirty years of small abuses were a lot to heal but things might shift into clarity as his body started to heal.
Dick woke to Jason tapping his face and shaking him as if to rouse him. "Come on Dick. Wake up. Give me some sign you're okay. Bats, he's barely responsive and he looks like death warmed over. Call an ambulance."
Jason was checking up on him? The trauma of the time merge was too much and Dick passed out again.
It was a little weird when Bruce came to the hospital? Followed shortly by the whole bat clan?
"Dick are you okay?"
"Huh? Why are you asking that Brruce?" The word Bruce felt weird coming out of his mouth.
"Dick it's your father," spoke Bruce patiently. "You were hurt. What happened? You look pretty banged up. What happened to your hair?"
"I cut it?" Did Bruce honest to goodness just admit to being my father? wondered Dick feeling like he was in the twilight zone.
"Dad you're throwing too much at him at once," scoffed Jason. "His brain's rattled. One question at a time. Big bird what happened?"
Jason called Bruce dad? What happened? Big bird?
"You look like crap Dick!" exclaimed Jason.
"Bruce, were you and Barbara a thing or did I dream that?" asked Dick wondering what had changed and what stayed the same. The universe needed him in the role of Doctor Fate. Some events were immutable. Jason died both times. Dick knew that at least.
"Richard?" spoked Bruce. "Leslie thinks you've got a concussion. You went missing last week. We've been looking for you then suddenly you showed up in your apartment. Can you tell us what happened. What happened to your knee? You're covered in cuts and scrapes and your nails, well, they'll grow back... What happened Dickie?"
Bruce didn't answer the question but he was being nice. ...pod person. The universe spun giddily for a bit while Dick tried to hold himself to the bed.
At that moment Barbara wheeled herself into his hospital room. She was wearing a ring. Whose ring was it and why was she in a wheelchair? It was a pretty fancy model, not the type of chair you'd use temporarily.
"Barb, Hey, who are you married to again?" Dick supposed his question was tactless but he didn't know. He hoped it wasn't to him because she didn't love him. Dick had had years to think about it and it was clear now that Barbara hadn't loved him or Bruce.
"You don't remember Thomas?" asked Barbara.
"Uh…" Barb couldn't walk but seemed happier in life 2.0? Should he feel guilty that she was paraplegic or be thankful that she'd been spared a miscarriage and apparently years of self destructive relationships.
Damien barrelled into the room scowling and petulantly chucking a get well Beanie Boo at Dick with maximum force. "Careless imbecile. You need a keeper!"
Dick fell asleep with Tim gently stroking his cheek. Healing 30 years of damage was taking a massive amount of energy. He couldn't stay awake and the time merge left him completely wrecked.
"We need to investigate to find out what happened to him," insisted Tim.
Dick had seemed really surprised to see them all in the same place at the same time. He was almost giddy about it. He'd congratulated Tim on his engagement to Stephanie countless times as if it completely overwhelmingly surprised him. He'd also been really happy to meet Thomas who he'd never really seemed to like before.
"Guess he really is over you?" Thomas laughed to Barb.
Later that day, reading the paper while sitting by Dick's bed Bruce frowned.
"What's the matter," asked Tim?
"Nothing really. I was just reading the obituaries. Did you ever have a teacher that really made an impact on you?" asked Bruce.
"I don't know. I have a stuffed Tiger that a nanny gave me. I was apparently really attached to the guy but I don't remember him."
"I had a daycare teacher. Taught me out of his home," spoke Jason. "He's in a lot of my earliest memories. Remember thinking life would be so much better if I could just live at his house all the time. Don't think he got paid much. We ate a lot of cheerios and kd and I remember wondering if he ever ate cuz he didn't seem too but I don't know, I was really little. I'm surprised I remember him at all."
"An old teacher of mine, Mr. Grey passed away," spoke Bruce. "I wonder when the funeral is?"
"I think that's the guy that was my daycare teacher!" declared Jason who had a shoebox of preschool craft memories of being loved and at least one the crayon pictures was labelled Me and Mr. Grey. "Tim, look it up will you?"
"Uh … okay." Tim started busily looking into odd records and Dick blinked.
"If that's the same guy Bruce, I wanna go too," declared Jason. "Even if it isn't."
Damien, looking over Tim's shoulder as he researched later that evening in the batcave announced that he too would go to the funeral of Mr. Grey, his language teacher.
Tim after tracing the connections decided to go too.
Alfred as well insisted on going. Alfred though, took Bruce's 4th grade year book out of the attic, stared at the old class photo and then promptly hid the album. He touched the old framed Father's Day card and sighed breathlessly then straightened his tie and said not a word to anyone.
Dick was still in the hospital. His family stopped by after the funeral. It had been the simplest of affairs, a paupers funeral around an old photo and a cremation urn. There was no visitation or family, just a surprisingly large gathering of old students and friends that ended up telling stories.
Bruce noted one or two old classmates had had a tattered journal of awesomeness in hand.
"I still have yours' Master Bruce?" Asked Alfred.
"Where was his family?" asked Bruce. "Did he have no one?"
"Whose funeral did you go to?" asked Dick tiredly observing the sombre suits and ties.
"Mr. Grey. No one even knew his first name. It was the oddest thing. It was like he was trying to live his entire life flying under the radar but he influenced so many people," spoke Tim.
"Dickie why are you crying?" asked Bruce.
"Sorry. I'm just tired. Did Mrs. Breyer make her lemon squares? They're good."
"We still have clue zero what happened to Dick," commented Tim.
Everyone but Alfred, ignored Dick's odd comment about lemon squares. Dick spoke a lot of nonsense right now as he faded in and out of consciousness but he seemed to be improving. That was the important thing.
Alfred silently squeezed Dick's hand in comfort.
As for what exactly happened? Dick never spoke a word about it. Everyone knew he remembered something even if it was only vague. Sometimes; whatever it was, that strange cruel thing that had landed him in the hospital would leave him crying silent tears. The only response he'd ever given when asked had been: it's better now, I'm better now.
…
Doctor Fate to Batman: You have an incredible son. You owe him your life.
Batman to Doctor Fate: Why are you talking to me? I have four incredible sons. Stay away from them.
Doctor Fate: I intend to. Keep your eldest away from me. The Mask of Fate would wear well on him.
...
Zatara to Nabu: What happened to the Richard Grayson of this timeline.
Nabu: Merge hiccup. He is himself. It's a two for one deal.
Zatara: I remember the time with my daughter. It is enough. Will we have to deal with the Time disturbance again/
Nabu: It is in the future past. It won't happen again because it has been unhappened.
Zatara: You realise this would sound like utter nonsense to most.
Nabu: Chaos is nonsense. Order was restored. Nuff said.
Zatara: You still sound like Grayson sometimes.
Nabu: *nodds* Nothing wrong with that.