A/N:PLEASE READ OPENING NOTE
Don't want to nag and ya'll know yourself best. But please, guys, this one has a lot of warnings and I'm legit begging you to put your mental health first when reading this. If you feel like any topic might be triggering or uncomfortable to you, please read ending note to check. If you feel that you are having a bad day or even just not in the mood for angst, please wait. Always put yourself first here. It's not worth it if anyone is hurt by this story. I care about ya'll.
So, that said, with this one there's a number of warnings so as not to avoid spoilers, I'm putting the full list of warnings at the ending note along with how to skip them and a summary of the chapter if you'd rather do that instead.
This is what I consider the most traumatic chapter in the series. It will have repercussions. However, this story is primarily about recovery-which is not always a straight line. This series will ALWAYS have a happy ending. So, please at least keep that in mind.
ooooooo
Dick sits alone in the cave.
It's quiet in a way that he'd forgotten it could be. The only sounds are the hum of the machinery and the echoing of water dripping, lost somewhere in the tunnels. He hasn't noticed it could be this quiet in a long time-not since Barbara, then Jason, then Tim. Maybe even before that, the person he'd been after the Invasion and before Barbara hadn't been the type to notice the lack of noise when everything inside him had still felt too sharp
It's different now.
Now, the cave just feels quiet and Dick's more made of tiredness than sharp edges.
He wonders, though. He's never been able to help it.
He wonders if Bruce ever let himself sit and listen to the quiet. Back in the time before Dick. Dick thinks that sounds like something Bruce would do. And, if that is the case, he wonders if the silence helped Bruce think or if he'd only ever found it a distraction.
Dick thinks...Dick thinks he'd like to know what Bruce would have thought right now, sitting alone in the cave and listening to the quiet.
Because Dick isn't sure.
Of any of it.
But, right now, the quiet feels like an end or maybe the silence that's left after one.
The cave entrance creaks open and footsteps break the silence and Dick knows who it is without looking up.
And he knows what he needs to do next.
"Hey, Dick," Tim leans on the desk in front of him. "Are you….are you okay?"
The monitor is on-the screen in the middle showing Barbara's hospital room with a police commissioner sitting in watch next to a sleeping figure that's far too pale.
Tim swallows. "Nevermind, that's a dumb question. Sorry, I mean-"
"Tim," Dick interrupts him, turning to his brother-his youngest one, still so young for this-and smiling. "It's okay. I know what you meant. It's not a dumb question." A laugh. "Since when do you ever ask dumb questions?"
Tim rolls his eyes. "Well, according to Jason-"
"Oh, so, you've started listening to Jason, then," Dick teases. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled."
"Never." And Tim finally gives a hesitant smile back. "So….are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Dick reassures. "The doctors were able to get to the artery in time. They fixed it. Other than that, Babs has a mild concussion and a broken femur." He lets out a breath. "She'll be out of the field for six months minimum plus rehab; but, they said she'll make a full recovery." He smiles again. "And most important, she's alive. As long as all of you are alright in the end; then, trust me, Tim, I'll be fine."
Tim's shoulders relax and his next question is hesitant. "She'll….she'll really be okay?"
"It's Babs. Never doubt her for a second."
"Okay." Tim lets out a half laugh as he rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry, I came down here so I could be the one that checks on you."
"Older brother's prerogative," Dick promises. "You don't have to worry about me, Timmy."
Tim gins. "Yeah, sure. That bad I wanted to be the cool reassuring one for once?"
And there it is.
Dick's face sobers.
"Actually, Tim…," he sighs and meets Tim's eyes steadily, "I really need your help."
"What is it," Tim asks immediately.
"Desmond's attack on Barbara means that he's escalating," Dick tells him. "We thought all the attacks were premeditated-just like we thought in the earlier ones, he'd avoid public places. We were wrong both times." He shakes his head. "No, we underestimated him both times. He's dangerous, too dangerous. And we can't afford to wait and see what he attacks next. Who he attacks."
"You want me to find out who he's targeting," Tim surmises. "How?"
"I think I already know," Dick says. "Think about the pattern of escalation. Think about what's close to me. He aimed for the manor, my school, my family, Barbara…. What's left?"
"The Titans." Tim's eyes widened. "You think he's expanding out of Gotham."
"I think it's a high probability," he says bluntly. "If he's trying to attack all parts of my life, that's the one he's missing. We thought before he was trying to keep it to Gotham, but if he's escalating….if we keep underestimating him…"
He can see the chain of events going off behind Tim's eyes.
"But, we don't know for sure yet," Dick says. "And we don't know how. But, I think….I think the Titans' computer mainframe could have been hacked."
Tim stiffens. "What?! How?"
"I'm not sure," Dick says. "But, it would explain how Spyral got our IDs. And if Desmond got the information from Spyral, if Spyral is using this as a test case…."
"Then Spyral could have leaked the access to Desmond, too," Tim concludes, his hand twitching to the computer. "He could be tracking us."
"But, if we find the breach, we can track him, too," Dick reminds him. "And if we have someone in the Tower, then they can also watch for attacks. They can warn Donna so she can get everyone out in time."
Tim swallows. "And….you want me to do it? To find the hack and be a lookout for the Titans?"
"...I know it's a lot," Dick tells him. "I know it's unfair of me to put so much of this on you. But, with Barbara out...Tim, I need someone there if I can't be and-"
"I understand, Dick." Tim's back straightens. "I can handle it. I promise. If you think there's a hack, then I'll find it. I won't stop until I do."
Dick watches him.
"...Thanks, Tim," he says softly and his voice remains steady, "I know I can count on you."
Dick clears his throat before he can see Tim's expression, pulling up the Tower surveillance. "You'll need to work out of the Tower to have direct access to the mainframe. I don't know how long this mission will take; but, we need someone there looking out for the Titans." He sighs. "I guess the good news is you won't have to miss school since the GCPD already has us out on lockdown."
Tim snorts. "Dick, come on, it's World History, Biology, and basic Geometry. I already finished my semester work weeks ago." His expression firms. "I can do this. Trust me?"
Dick looks at his youngest brother.
Sometimes, Dick wonders at the fact that everyone around him is exceptional. His brothers most of all, if Dick's being biased. Tim's a genius. He was able to track down the Light before he was even a teenager. He's one of the best natural detectives Dick's ever seen. And every year, it seems like he's only getting better. Yet, in moments like this, he still manages to look up at Dick like he has something left to prove. Like Dick didn't see it the moment they met.
….Dick has his own strength, too.
He knows people.
"Always, Tim." Dick smiles. "I always trust you."
And he's sorry.
Tim smiles back. "I'll go tell Alfred I'll be gone for awhile."
He turns back to the stairs.
Dick stops him.
"Wait."
Dick wraps his arms around him, pulling him in and feeling a surprising sense of relief when Tim hugs him back-just like he always does. Dick waits, one second, two...only this long, only for a moment.
He leans his chin on Tim's head. "I'm proud of you, okay? You know that, right?"
Then, Dick lets him go.
Tim laughs. "Yeah, I know. Don't worry, Dick, I'll make sure the Titans are safe."
Dick smiles.
He keeps smiling for as long as it takes for Tim to make it up to the stairs and up back to the manor. And, then, the smile fades.
"It's creepy how you do that."
Dick jumps, a batarang already in his hands before he recognizes the voice. Jason's leaning on his bike, still suited up even with the mask gone and nothing to hide the pissed off look he's giving Dick.
He knows.
"I didn't know you were here," Dick says, playing it off like it's casual.
"Must've been distracted, then." Jason says, making his way over until he can stand in front of Dick. Taller. Jason's taller. When he looks at Dick, their eyes are level. "What? Not even going to deny it, then?"
"Depends," Dick says calmly. "What am I supposed to be denying, Jay?"
"Don't even try," Jason slams the motorcycle helmet into Dick's arms. "I can't believe you-no, actually, I can-and, ugh. Least you used to be honest about it."
Dick doesn't bother pretending anymore. "If you think I'm wrong, then go stop him."
Jason doesn't.
But, then, Dick already knew he wouldn't.
Older brother's prerogative.
Instead, Jason pinches the bridge of his nose and glares up at the cave ceiling. "Was any of it really true? You really think Spyral found our identities from a data hack?"
"Unlikely," Dick admits. "If so, we would've found it already. Helena's probably right. DNA matching's a long and dirty process; but, it's what fits best." He sighs. "Tim's still young. He overestimates his opponents' competency in technology because it's what he's good at. He forgets to account for on the ground work."
Jason scrubs a hand through his hair. "Blockbuster going after the Titans?"
"Only if he's suicidal." Dick shrugs. "He's a mobster, Jay, he manages his own territory first before expanding. The Titans will be his last target, if ever."
"Of course not." Jason laughs but it doesn't sound amused in the slightest. "Of course, they aren't. If they were, you'd give it to Donna, or Jade, or even Garth before you put it all on Tim." He turns back to Dick. "And how long you expecting it'll take until Tim realizes there's nothing to find? A couple weeks-a month? How long are you trying to keep him out of Gotham?"
"Tim's always been dedicated," Dick says softly. "Especially about this."
"Of course he is, because it's for you." Jason glares. "And you know that. You counted on it."
Dick doesn't deny it.
"And what about me," Jason spits out. "If you're already packing off Tim for the month, how long until there was a super special problem in Central or Atlantis that only I could handle?"
Dick glances at the monitors.
"Answer me!" Jason's grabs Dick by the collar and pulls him to meet his face. Dick goes with the motion. "Answer me, Dick! You're sending us away! You're getting us out of the line of fire! I know this move! You've done it before-only this time it's not keeping a younger team as backup for an alien invasion. You're hiding us and I want to know why?!" Jason's hands are shaking and his eyes are wide. "What is it you don't think we can handle, Dick? Why?"
"Jason." Dick covers the hand on the collar, holding it until the grip relaxes. He closes his eyes and breathes while Jason waits for him.
"Sorry," Dick opens his eyes and watches the grip of Jason's hands instead of his face. Dick's lip quirks up in more a grimace than a smile. "Sometimes, I think I'm still really bad at this. I thought I told you I would be. Remember? I'm not….I'm not always a good person to be close to. I'm not always good at it." He looks up. "It's not you being good enough. It never was. I don't know what else I can say until you believe me. You've always been good enough. Both you and Tim."
He meets Jason's eyes. "I'm not sending you away because I think you can't handle it, I'm protecting you because I don't know if I can."
There's a pause in Jason's breathing, he's trying to hide it but Dick can still hear it. Jason knows what he means and he's scared.
And Dick's so very sorry.
"I thought you didn't make plans where we lose," Jason manages.
"I don't," Dick agrees. "...but, I make them to minimize risks. And costs."
"You'll still be here," Jason says and it sounds like an accusation. "You're not planning on leaving Gotham, so what about that risk? What about that cost, Dick?"
"You know why I can't leave, Jay. It won't solve anything-he'll just wait. As long as I'm here, Desmond will keep on attacking. That's how we catch him."
"How you do, you mean," Jason spits back. "You really just expecting me to abandon you to this maniac."
"Jason, Barbara nearly died," Dick says, voice so soft it doesn't even echo. "I was there and she was dying and I couldn't even stop it!"
Jason's still looks ready to argue and Dick….
Dick gives up.
"Jay," he pleads, "please, I've already lost my family twice. I can't do it a third time. Please. I can't lose you. Or Tim. Or Babs. Or Alfred. I can't." He's begging Jason to see, to look a little bit closer and understand that Dick….
"That's the worst thing Desmond could do to me," Dick whispers and the words are raw. "That's what would kill me. So, please, don't make me go through it again. Not with you."
Jason stares at him.
His fists are shaking and his breathing's ragged and he looks angry.
But, he always does when he cares the most.
When Jason speaks, his voice is hoarse. "So, what do you want me to do, Dick?"
"Go with Tim to the Titans," Dick asks. "Or stay with the Harpers in Star. Please, Jason, just give me time. Give me time so I can think how I'm going to catch him without worrying that it'll cost one of you. Please."
Jason doesn't answer.
ooooooo
By the next morning, Tim is thousands of miles away at the Tower, tucked between Virgil and Bart as he pours intently over computer coding.
Dick didn't tell him. Jason never did either.
He's safe.
Dick finds Jason's note an hour later, next to an empty bike spot and a missing uniform.
I'll give you a week. Don't die.
ooooooo
Missed Call: Donna aka The Greatest 3 (5)
Missed Call: Will (2)
4 New Voicemails
Donna aka The Greatest 3: What are you playing at, Dick?
ooooooo
"You shouldn't be here," Dick says. "You should still be resting."
From her wheelchair, the look Barbara sends him is pointed. "Well, maybe I would be if I didn't hear both Tim and Jason are out of Gotham in the middle of an attack." She sips at her drink and swallows down her scheduled dose of painkillers. "The hospital let me out yesterday and you need backup. Or are you going to try to send me away, too?"
Dick winces. "Babs, you're still hurt. You can't-"
"Be very, very careful about how you finish that sentence, Grayson."
Dick makes the smart choice and doesn't say anything, obligingly wheeling her to an empty corner away from the crowds.
"It's almost too packed to move in here," Barbara mutters. "How many people did Wayne Enterprises invite?"
"By my guess? The top Gotham society list for the past decade," Dick answers back. "Maybe even more."
Which is mostly true. Part of the reason that the manor is so crowded is the frankly overwhelming people that Wayne Enterprise insists are needed to bolster their public image. The other part is actually Dick's fault. Well, Dick and the GCPD. Closing off parts of the manor for the party means limited space, which means limiting options of attack. And apparently the GCPD is just as done with Blockbuster's attacks as Dick is.
Every room not used for the party is closed and locked off. Every exit has at least two of either the GCPD or Wayne security stationed by it.
The Wayne Gala is a clear, shining target.
….and it is also a trap, a taunt to see how far Desmond is really willing to go.
Dick is done with sitting back to watch.
This is the endgame.
And, then, he sees Barbara tense. "What is she doing back here?"
Dick follows her stare and barely restrains a sigh when he sees Catalina glaring back at them.
"She's not supposed to be here," Barbara says firmly. "I checked with my dad's security. They know she's on leave with the FBI. They shouldn't have let her in."
"Babs," Dick says. "I doubt she's here with the GCPD. Her brother's Bludhaven's Assistant DA, she's probably just here as his plus one."
"She still….," Barbara rubs at her head and groans. "That woman gives me a headache. I swear, Dick, I'd rather plan party games with the Riddler than think about her."
Dick smiles. "Then, don't talk to her."
"Trust me, I wasn't planning on it."
Dick is hoping he doesn't have to either, to be honest. Somehow, he gets the feeling she isn't going to let it go that easily, even if Dick already said all he wanted to last time.
It's….frustrating and something Dick doesn't have time to deal with, especially not tonight. But, sometimes, that's the cost of managing both his civilian and vigilante lives-even if Catalina is being a particularly persistent hassle to deal with. It still can't get in the way of catching Desmond.
The party beats onward like it has its own heartbeat. The crowd thrumming along like pressure against the lungs.
If the New Years' Gala was supposed to be a grand reintroduction of the new Wayne family, then this one feels like everyone's waiting to see what happens next. What will fall, one way or another.
Either a tragedy or a triumph. Both make for good entertainment.
There's times Gotham may play at hiding its fangs behind elegant smiles; but, only fools and out of towners forget they're there. Forget that Gotham's always ravenous.
Dick stays beside Barbara just as Barbara stays beside him, both fending off the well wishers and the patented sympathies as Dick assures he's just so happy that everyone could make it, what a lovely party this is. Bruce would have loved it.
Of course, Bruce would have.
Of course.
Dick smiles until his cheeks hurt, until his grip is white on Barbara's chair, and his teeth grind together. But, that's the show, isn't it?
He doesn't know if it's a relief or not when his phone rings-which means it's one of the few numbers he didn't set to go to voicemail.
Barbara glances up at him.
"It's probably Donna," he tells her. "I haven't talked to her since Tim left. She's been calling."
"Are you going to answer her," Barbara says in a voice that clearly implies what answer she thinks he should do.
Dick hesitates.
"The party will still be here when you get back, Dick," Barbara turns to watch the dance floor. "And I can handle myself fine."
The phone continues to ring.
"I'll be back in five minutes," Dick promises and slips back through the party, weeding his way through the crowd and trying to fend off the voices that call to him.
A glass of champagne gets shoved in his hand. And Dick takes it to have an excuse not to talk, drinking it back and grimacing at the bubble's bitter aftertaste. He's always hated champagne.
The phone's still ringing when he finally makes it to the sitting room, closed off from the rest of the party and finally quiet.
He answers it. "Hey, Don', I-"
"Dick," the voice on the other end is crying.
It isn't Donna.
And Dick goes cold.
His fingers feel numb around the phone. "Raya, what is it? What's wrong?"
"D-Dick," Raya repeats and her breath is hitching, sobbing into the receiver as she tries to talk. "Dick, I-it's-"
There's a buzzing in Dick's ears and everything around him feels too loud.
"Raya," his own voice sounds far away "Raya, you need to tell me what happened. Is it Raymond? Is it the circus?"
"It's Pop Haly," Raya shouts. "Dick-he's-he's dead! We found him in his room! It looks-it looks like a suicide. But, he wouldn't have. He wouldn't! Raymond's calling the police; but, Dick….Dick…"
Dick can't move.
There's a pressure at his back, under him, and Dick realizes that at some point his legs gave out under him, that he's sitting on the floor and he doesn't know when that happened.
He feels like he can't speak. His tongue is too heavy in his mouth and his lips too numb to form words.
Pop Haly's dead.
….the words form slowly...too slowly….one thought reaching and reaching until it connects with the other…
Pop's Haly's dead.
….he wouldn't have committed suicide...Dick just saw him...that's wrong...an attack…
Yes, it had to be an attack.
Which means…
Desmond killed him.
Which means…
He killed him because of Dick.
"Dick? Dick!"
Why does Raya's voice sound so small?
"...ick, are you there? Did you...are you still-?"
Dick's head is spinning, he leans it against the wall but that doesn't help. He thinks it's probably been awhile. He thinks he might've heard Raymond talking. When was that? He thinks they might've hung up.
...is this what shock feels like?
Dick can't remember.
Why. Is. Everything. So. Loud?
There's hands on his face and they feel too hot. Dick flinches away from them.
"Shhhh, shhh, I'm here. I got you, okay? You don't need to worry. I told you, I'll handle it."
The hands are still on his face, too hot and Dick doesn't like them at all. He tries to focus on the voice while his vision feels out of focus. Everything feels out of focus.
He tries, anyway.
"C-Catalina?"
She smiles down at him and it feels like poison. "Yeah, it's me. I got you, you don't have to think now. Poor baby, you must've been so stressed. I gave you something to calm down, it was in the champagne." She laughs. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad. It's a fun drug! I took a bit myself, too." She tilts her head. "Though you need it more than me, don't you? So stressed, aren't you, baby?"
Dick thinks…
He thinks that something might be wrong.
Really wrong.
And he should do something.
But, everything's still feels so loud. He can hear his blood pulsing in his head and even it's too loud and it's painful.
A pained noise echoes around them and from the way Catalina frowns, Dick thinks it might've come from him.
The hand on his face goes lower, sliding into his shirt.
"I'll handle it," Catalina whispers. "Just relax."
Dick frowns. "Stop."
He knocks her hands away-he should be able to, he knows he should be able to, she's a civilian. But, he's not able to. He can't. She catches the hand and kisses the knuckles.
"Shh, we're free now."
The hand on his chest is sliding down and he can feel it at the same time it feels so distant. He can hear the rustling of his shirt, a button being undone. He can hear and see; but, nothing is connecting through the fog around him.
There's lips at his jaw.
Dick jerks away. "Don't touch me. Stop."
"Baby..."
The lips move up. A hand on his throat, on his jaw. There's lips on his, hard, rough, and he feels like it should be painful but he can't feel the pain. And…
For the first time, Dick's afraid.
He can't breathe. Everything's too loud.
And something's really, really wrong.
….Pop Haly's dead.
The hands on his chest go to his hips, his belt buckle.
Stop.
Dick says or he thinks he does?
"Shhh."
There's a clink of metal and then-
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
The touching stops.
The pressure on his legs disappears like it was knocked away and Dick focuses on breathing, on trying to focus.
He thinks he hears shouting. A flash of familiar red and that's safe. There's another voice there and Dick knows it, remembers it even if the memories aren't quite clicking yet.
Dick can breathe.
He thinks he smells blood. He can hear something hit over and over.
He doesn't hear shouting anymore. He doesn't hear Catalina at all.
His eyes finally focus and he blinks.
There's a figure laying on the ground, curled up like a dead spider, and Dick would hardly recognize her except for the dress. A silver stick, the same color as a wheelchair, knocks the figure back and keeps hitting her.
Dick sees red hair and the scene finally processes.
"Babs," Dick's voice is quiet, impossible to hear even when listening for it, "Babs, she's down. She's not fighting anymore."
The silver escrima stick keeps hitting down, again and again.
Dick watches it fall. "Babs, you're going to kill her."
It's Barbara, though. Of course, she already knows that.
The stick keeps coming down. There's a pool of blood steadily growing.
Dick can barely tell if she's still breathing.
"Babs," Dick says again. "Stop."
The stick stops. Barbara stops.
Dick sucks in a breath and it's painful.
...it's still so loud.
"Dick."
Dick blinks up.
Barbara's in front of him now, the wheelchair reflecting behind her like she pushed herself out of it. Dick has a feeling he missed some time again.
"Dick," Barbra's hand goes to his face and he flinches away. The hand drops. "Dick, are you okay? Your eyes aren't focusing. I need to know what she did. What happened?"
What happened?
"Pop Haly's dead," Dick whispers.
Then he closes his eyes, leaning back against the wall. He thinks he can hear other people in the room now. But, it'll be alright if Barbra's here to handle it.
Right now, Dick just needs to think and everything's too far away.
ooooooo
Dick has a headache and a hangnail.
He thinks there's a joke in there somewhere.
Even his normal nights end in a few bruises and scrapes. But, right now, even after everything, there's just a hangnail and a headache throbbing at his skull -the only leftover from whatever drug Catalina used.
The drugs are gone by now. Worn away and Dick could probably have a tox screen to prove it.
His head should be clear.
It doesn't feel like it.
Or maybe it feels too clear-clear enough that he can't focus on anything else.
Dick can't help biting at the hangnail right now. It's unreasonably annoying. Strange. Dick thought he'd given up his bad habit of chewing on his nails back when he was seven and his mother tugged at his ear whenever she'd catch him biting at them. Currently though, he can't help but find this particular hangnail irritating.
Commissioner Gordon is watching him closely-Dick can see him out of the corner of his eye, in the reflection of the mirror, the shine off the table. He catalogs his breathing, the rustle of his suspenders on his shirt, even the way he shifts his balance as he stands; but, Dick still can't place his expression.
It doesn't matter.
Dick knows he's there. Commissioner Gordon knows he knows. That's good enough. Dick doesn't bother glancing up.
The silence drags on.
Gordon finally sits on the other side of the interrogation table. "Officially, I'm not working this case. I just...I need you to know that. Officially, I can't work this case-not with Barbara involved. I handed it off to Bullock. He'll handle it well. He knows how to make sure only the details that should get out get talked about and the details no one needs to know about...well, he knows how to keep them private."
Dick can figure out what he means for himself; so, he doesn't ask more.
"So, unofficially, I can tell you this." Gordon pulls out a case file. "We found the same model of gun used in the coffeehouse shooting in Catalina Flores' apartment. Traffic cams put her at the scene. And she already confessed on record an hour after she regained consciousness." He pauses, voice going tighter. "She didn't even seem ashamed of it, actually. Apparently, she was under the impression that you and Barbara were in an ill-fitting relationship and made it her job to get Barbara out of the picture. It doesn't seem she's connected to the attack on your school, the circus, or the manor….or Mr. Haly's death."
Dick chews at his hangnail.
Well, that at least explains why the coffeeshop attack didn't match the patterns of the others. Looks like he underestimated Catalina….but, then again, he already figured that part out.
"Dick?"
Dick meets his eyes. "Yes."
Commissioner Gordon looks tired, far too tired and with the lines pulling at his eyes that make him look even older. "Son, this isn't me asking as the police commissioner. This room isn't being recorded. This is me asking to my daughter's best friend, to the boy who took her to senior prom. This is me asking to the man who I've watched grow up, too. Dick….are you okay?"
Dick holds up his hand. "Just a headache and a hangnail, Commissioner."
Ha.
….hmm, so, maybe it's not a very good joke.
Gordon's eyes look even heavier. "Alright, son."
"Is…," Dick breathes, "is Barbara okay?"
Gordon nods. "She'll be fine. It's a pretty open and shut defense case, especially with Catalina's confession and the earlier attack. And….Barbara knows how to handle these things from both sides. She's still going through her statement so that will take a few more hours to get properly recorded."
Dick hesitates again. "And is...is Cata...is she-"
"She'll recover," Gordon answers for him. "It'll take awhile, but none of the damage was permanent."
Dick nods and decides not to process that. "Okay."
"Of course, her brother's Budhaven's Assistant DA and he's insisting on being part of the case," Gordon continues. "Not that she's making it any easier for him. So, that'll take some getting through. We already have the coffeshop attack on record so that's charges for domestic terrorism, attempted murder, property destruction, and a whole slew of related charges for shooting into a public space….and maybe more."
"Maybe more," Dick repeats.
"You'll have to be the ones to press charges for those," Gordon says, tone so deliberately neutral that it has to be a choice.
"Maybe more," Dick says again. "Maybe, even if I do?"
Gordon sighs, running a hand over his face. "You know the statistics there, Dick. Even more so when the perpetrator's female. I'm not going to do you the disservice of guaranteeing a conviction with a case like that; but, we already have evidence of the drug on file and Barbara's testimony. If you want to press charges, the department will stand behind you."
Dick knows what he's not saying, too. Catalina's brother's the Assistant DA, whatever way you look at it, the charges will go public. Detective Bullock can keep what happened tonight private; but, if it goes to court, there's no guarantee the press won't find it, too.
And, then, there's Dick….and he doesn't know….doesn't…
"She's going to jail," Dick asks.
"Yes," Gordon promises. "For a very, very long time. Life if the GCPD has anything to say about it."
Dick nods. "Then, that's fine with me. That's enough."
"You don't have to make a decision yet," Gordon reminds him. "You can take time to think about it for yourself."
Think?
Dick hasn't been doing that very well even before-well, before.
"Dick."
"Hmmm?"
"...I heard your brothers and Alfred are out of town," Gordon says. "Would you like me to call them for you?"
Dick's pretty sure he can't actually. Not at the Tower or in Star, not unless Dick gives him the number.
"No."
The heater in the precinct is loud and old. It should have been replaced years ago; but, the precinct funds were spent on more urgent matters. It hums along the walls when it kicks on, vibrates lightly against the mirror. Commissioner Gordon's chair scrapes softly when he shifts.
Dick doesn't know exactly how long he's been here, not with the drugs messing with his internal clock. But he's guessing it's early morning by now. The light dawn before most of Gotham gets moving; but, there's still the whisper of smog, the first chirps of birds, the rumble of the last of the evening trains and the first of the morning.
So many things to hear.
Commissioner Gordon is speaking. "Would you like to call them, then? I can get you a phone?"
Dick shrugs. "And tell them what? That-" He can't say it so he doesn't try. "It's alright, Commissioner, all I have is a hangnail and a headache. That's all, really. I don't need to call them for that."
"...alright, Dick. If you change your mind-
Commissioner Gordon keeps talking and Dick can't hear him.
It's been hours, the drugs are out of his system, there's nothing left.
So, why is everything still so loud?
Pop Haly is still dead.
Blockbuster is still out there.
And Dick needs to move.
He needs to get out.
He looks up, his words cutting off the Commissioner. "Can I go now?"
The Commissioner blinks before frowning.
"I'm leaving," Dick says instead. "You have my statement already. You don't need anything from me. So, I'm leaving."
"Son," Commissioner Gordon says, "you were just attacked. You can stay and-"
"But, it's not like I'm being charged with anything. I'm not in holding." Dick stands up even as his legs don't feel steady under him. "The GCPD can't keep me here."
Gordon stands, too. "Dick." He shakes his head. "Barbara should be done in another few hours. Wait and-"
That won't work. Dick can't wait and she's safe here.
Everyone else is safe and out of the way
"I'll see her when she's done," Dick says and heads for the door.
"Dick! Stop, you can't just go alone! Someone's still attacking you! You need security, some patrolmen-"
"I'm refusing police protection," Dick interrupts him.
Commissioner Gordon stops, staring at him.
"This is my formal refusal for the GCPD's extra security," Dick states. "I'll take on any liability that comes with that."
"...Dick," Commissioner Gordon says.
Right now, his voice is so much like Barbara's, so worried that Dick can't help but say:
"Sorry, Mr. Gordon."
And, then, he's gone.
He doesn't really register getting out of the precinct-he knows the routes, the fastest way to get through with no one stopping him, how could he not? And he needs to leave, he needs to….
What does he need to do?
What the fuck is left for him to do?
He steps out into the alley behind the station and he was right-it's morning, just the barest hints of dawn, still covered by smoke and grit this deep in the city. And how very like Gotham, even a new morning can't fully erase it's nights.
And Dick….
Well, he was a Robin before everything else, wasn't he?
The first Robin, the one that had to forge the mold and shave the edges so the thing his brothers stepped into wasn't as sharp-didn't need them to force expectations because Dick had already put on the show for the people, so maybe they could just relax under a mask already worn. But what do you know, maybe not everything he taught himself back then turned out so well. Of course, it didn't. And what do you know maybe some of it twisted him, too.
Dick tilts his head up to the sky and laughs.
Laughs until it hurts and it does, it hurts so much, and that just makes him laugh more-throwing his arms out like he can fly on the ground and turning in a circle in a dirt covered Gotham alley that even the morning can't erase.
Because Robin always smiles when it's dark. Until it's morning again.
Or mourning again.
….Dick's laugh fades out.
Right, time to go.
There's a storage locker on the way, Dick barely remembers to stop and grab a suit-the extra cycle is the more important part. After that, he focuses in on the gravel under the tires, the smell of salt and fish getting closer, and the early cries of seagulls.
Gotham's harbors are putrid as ever-the one benefit is that Dick is way past the point of caring.
There's a list of names in his head-mugshots and crimes laid out in spreadsheets. Extortion. Armed Assault. Bribery. Mob Activity. Drug Trafficking. Kidnapping. The usual, the norm, whatever, Dick just needs to find one of them.
And he does.
Jason's research prior to going undercover was very, very thorough.
Dudley Soames, a detective before his badge got tossed away after one too many times to look the other way. Formerly, Roland Desmond's top get out of jail free card.
Dick catches him, still drunk, an alley away from a cheap bar.
Soames never sees him coming.
Dick drags him up to the wall. "Where's Desmond?"
"SHIT?!" Soames blinks rapidly and attempts to get his eyes clear.
Dick doesn't let him, shaking him to wake him up. "Where is he, Soames!"
Soames' voice stumbles. "It's mornin'; Bats aren't supposed to be out this-"
His back hits the wall.
"Where's Desmond," Dick asks again. "I have all the information on you, Soames. You think losing the badge was hard? Try 20 to life? Where's Desmond?"
"Shit!" Soames curses. "Why would I know?"
Because people don't just disappear.
Dick pressed his escrima stick into his throat. "Where is he?"
"Are you deaf?!" Soames shouts. "I don't know! I just did the research he wanted! He cut us off months ago!"
Dick clicks on the escrima and hears it buzz. A warning.
It's loud.
Soames swears and that's even louder.
"Where's Desmond," Dick asks.
Soames launches forward, tries to throw a punch.
Dick catches it easily, shifts his hold, presses, keeps pressing, and...
He can hear it.
"Stop! I don't know!" Soames shouts, trying and failing to pull his wrist away. "I DON'T KNOW! HE DIDN'T TELL US!"
The bones in the wrist are so small. They're easy to shatter if Dick lets it. People do it all the time by accident. Hard to mend if the person breaking it knows how. Painful.
It's not fatal.
Breaking fingers isn't fatal. A broken rib won't kill if it's done right. The femur is the most painful bone to break in the body; but, it's not deadly.
"LET MY ARM GO!"
Soames' voice sounds far away. Dick thinks he tried to throw another punch with his free arm; but, Dick pinned it without even noticing.
He presses on the wrist.
The bones creak and it's loud.
"Where's Desmond," Dick asks and his voice is quiet.
Soames doesn't answer. His breathing's too fast, his wrist seems incredibly fragile under Dick's hand.
Maybe Soames is saying something, Dick's finding it hard to tell right now through all the noise.
"Where is he," Dick asks one last time.
"Robin!"
A new voice comes from Dick's back and he freezes.
Then, he shakes his head and paints on a smile, standing to meet her. "Nah, you got the name wrong."
Catwoman-Selina-is staring at him, eyes wide behind the mask. She looks worried.
That's kind of her. It's too late like usual, but it's kind of her to try.
"Nightwing," she corrects like she still wants to say a different name. "What are you doing, kitten?"
"Looking for clues," Dick answers.
"Pretty hard way to do it," Selina says carefully. "And illegal, I think."
Dick laughs.
And this joke is funny. A vigilante and a cat burglar standing in a Gotham alley and talking about legalities. And the funniest thing is…
"Actually, I may have a case for self defense," Dick says cheerfully. "He threw the first punch, after all."
Dick drops Soames' wrist, unbroken, and watches as the man scurries back down the alley. It's fine, Dick can find him later-if he needs to.
Selina waits until Soames is gone before she speaks again. "Dick….what happened?"
Dick tilts his head. "Why did you find me, Selina?"
She's looking at him, scanning him like she's trying to find something deeper. And Dick lets her. Why shouldn't he? All he has is a headache and a hangnail.
"...Helena and Tiger found something." She pulls out a folded map. "It might be nothing, just a hunch. Desmond's mother's death was recorded by Gotham Medical; but, she didn't die at the hospital. She died en route-a traffic jam, off Exit 38."
The pieces click together. The Mad Hatter's attack a few months ago. The resulting traffic pile up. The construction in the past few months.
Well...who would've guessed Blockbuster was so sentimental?
A stupid miscalculation. Of course, he was. What about this hadn't been personal?
Dick holds out his hand. "Give me the map, Selina."
She hesitates.
"Or don't," Dick says. "It won't be hard to find out now that I know what to look for. I can do it myself."
She hands over the map.
Dick takes note of the street location, the empty office building beside it.
"You're going after him directly, aren't you," Selina asks.
Dick nods. "I'm tired of waiting."
"Dick," Selina's voice is sharp. "He's a metahuman and he's prepared to fight you. If you try to meet him head on, you'll die."
"Maybe, maybe not." Dick shrugs. "I get told that a lot, but somehow I'm still kicking."
"Where's your family?" Selina's voice is rising-a slip up on her part, Selina usually never lets her fear actually show. "Where's your backup? Dick, what happened?"
Dick throws up his hand in a half hearted wave. "Bye, Selina, thank Helena for me."
"DICK!"
She catches his arm.
Or tries to before Dick snatches it away before her hand can touch.
"You need someone with you. I'm not just leaving you alone!" Selina shouts.
"No? Why not?" Dick spits back. "You're so good at it!"
Selina flinches back and Dick is viciously, painfully glad.
"You don't get to care just when it's convenient, Selina," he says and it hurts, a wound that's never going to heal. "I needed someone eight years ago. I needed someone when Bruce died, when Batman was gone, and the city was falling apart, and you weren't there. You didn't call. You didn't check on me. You didn't even say bye. And that's fine. I lived, I rebuilt it."
He steps away. "But, you don't get to come back now and pretend it never happened. I don't have to let you just because it hurts either way."
Dick's ears are ringing.
"Just let me go, Selina," Dick turns so he doesn't have to see her face. "I'm tired. And I can handle it on my own."
She doesn't stop him.
ooooooo
It went like this: a failed bank robbery last October, a blown up bridge they weren't able to stop but were at least able to close entry to, an arrest, a traffic jam, and a city plan for lane expansion to provide alternative routes for the regular Gotham commute.
A completely normal night in Gotham.
Routine.
Even with the ambulance caught on the wrong side of the bridge, stuck and with a 74 year old woman needing immediate emergency heart surgery.
Even with the death of Rosilind Desmond, mother of two and survived by one, it would have been a completely normal night.
As if there's ever normal nights.
Dick lands on the roof of an office building, catty corner to where an ambulance had been stopped three months ago.
This morning, it's empty. The construction bulldozers haven't even started up yet.
Dick doesn't wait.
He knows when he's expected.
He drops down on the top window, a vantage point over the city.
"I suppose you wanted me to find you."
Roland Desmond is a mountain of a man-too large to be fully human even if the way his head bulged out didn't give it away. He's sitting in the room's sole table, a handgun aimed straight at Dick's chest.
"Nightwing," Desmond pulls the gun back, pointing lazily at the ceiling. "Or do you prefer Grayson? Dick, maybe?" He rolls his shoulders back. "I would have tracked you down eventually myself; but, I'll admit Spyral made for a good ally this time. I never would've started with Gotham's Golden Boy."
"You know you're not walking away from this," Dick says flatly. "A bombing of a public school, two murders, an arson charge. No matter how carefully you covered your tracks, GCPD will bring it back to you eventually. Your entire organization is done. And all for this."
Desmond snorts. "My entire organization was done the moment I pulled back for a few months. I don't know if you've noticed; but, my men aren't the type that can be trusted to finer details. It's why I didn't tell them what I was doing or where I was operating."
"You didn't tell anyone my identity?" Dick frowns. "Why? Having that out just seems like common sense."
Desmond clicks the gun. "Because I didn't need a backup. I wanted to handle this personally."
"I didn't kill your mother," Dick says. "No one did. No one could have foreseen an unexpected heart attack, no one could have stopped it."
"I don't care," Desmond says and his voice goes toneless, blank in its utter lack of inflection. "You may think that's why I'm doing this; but, it's not. I. Don't. Care. Who's fault it was doesn't matter. My brother's dead, my mother's dead, too. I'm the only one of my family left. Everyone I love is dead."
Desmond shakes his head. "I don't want vengeance. I just wanted someone to understand, to feel exactly how much I suffered. How much I'm still suffering. To hurt. And know that no matter what they did, they couldn't see it coming. That whatever they did, they couldn't stop it. Just like a heart attack and a fucking traffic jam."
He points the gun back at Dick. "And now, you're starting to. Thank you, Grayson."
Dick waits.
"So, that's it," Dick spits back. "I've suffered, I understand whatever it is you wanted me to see. You're done now?"
"Of course, I'm not." Desmond stares at him. "Do you think any of this was enough for me? A burned circus, a few bullet wounds, and one dead man? Do you think that's enough for you to truly suffer? Do you think it ever will be? Do you think I don't know you still have more left? As long as you draw breath, I want it to be the most painful day imaginable. I'll never stop as long as we're alive."
"You will," Dick says, resolute, no room for question. "Today. This morning, this ends because I'm going to stop you."
"But, you can't." Desmond lays the gun on the table and finally stands. "You won't. You're a Bat, you're a hero! Which means you won't ever kill me. You won't even come close. And that means you're never going to stop me." Desmond smiles. "Which means you're going to die here, Dick Grayson. And, then, if it's not you, then your family will understand what I feel."
Desmond spreads his hands. "Anyway you look at it, I win. This isn't a fight, this is checkmate, hero."
Dick punches him the second he finishes speaking.
Desmond sees it coming, has to see it coming, but is too slow to get out of the way.
The crack of a jaw and a head slinging back is all the rush Dick gets before Desmond's moving forward, too.
Dick dodges, uses the wall as leverage to kick up, to go around.
He knows how to deal with an enhanced opponent, a larger opponent. He remembers everything that spars with Slade taught him, that Bruce taught him before that.
Use the surroundings. Use speed.
Find leverage and torque so when your hits land, they mean something.
Don't get cornered. Go around and up instead of straight.
And most of all, don't ever let them touch you.
When they catch you, you're dead.
….so never let them touch you in the first place.
Dick knows the sound of a fight, the smack of his fist against skin, the sunken wall an inch away from his head, wood cracking, plaster breaking.
Dick can hear everything and it's so fucking loud.
Desmond's fist cracks down around him, barely missing. And Dick kicks up, aims for Desmond's legs with everything he has, but even that's not enough to knock the larger man to the ground.
Dick barely gets out of the way before Desmond can slam his fist into Dick's ribs.
An escrima stick up, blocking on reflex with electricity running through.
Desmond grabs it like it's a child's toy, metal crunching under his fist.
"Go on," Desmond says, "you aren't trying! Aren't you at least going to try now? Go on, try to kill me!"
Dick aims a batarang, two, three. All up and they embed in Desmond's arm right before it slams into Dick's side, knocking him away.
"That's not trying," Desmond yells. "COME ON, I KNOW YOU KNOW HOW! KILL ME BEFORE I KILL YOU, HERO!"
Desmond moves forward and Dick falls back, using his hands as a springboard to launch his feet up, to hit into Desmond's chest, and knock him back.
It's not enough. Desmond's still standing. Still coming forward.
Dick can't stop him.
Desmond's laughing. "Not even now, are you? So dedicated to those morals that you'll die for them. I don't know if that's noble or very, very stupid."
Dick can't stop him
…..one time, back when Dick's match still itched around his ears, he asked Bruce what he should do. What he should do if there was ever a time where he had to choose between saving his own life and taking someone else's.
Bruce's answer had been short.
Simple.
"Don't let there be a time."
Dick laughs, loud and unrestrained.
That simple. Is it, Bruce?
He can't stop Blockbuster.
Not forever.
He can't run.
Not anymore.
That simple.
Dick tries anyway because it's what he does. The next hit he blocks it. The next hit after that, he dodges to land one of his own. They're not enough, they're never enough. Not one, not five after. He's still losing.
Until Desmond's hands catch him around the throat and pin him to the wall, Dick's feet hanging under to try and fail to get traction.
Isn't it funny?
Sometimes, when Dick closes his eyes, he can still see red light, feel heat against his face, and hear the click of a timer.
He guesses a part of him still always thought he'd die in an explosion.
Shows what a psychic Dick is.
Dick sees Desmond's face.
The hands feel too hot on his skin. A hand on his throat, on his jaw.
He can't breathe.
Desmond's choking him and Dick can't get in any air. With his legs off the ground, it feels absurdly like he's flying.
Except all he can see is Desmond's face and even then, his vision's starting to go dark and….
Oh…
….Everything's quiet….
….He wonders if Bruce ever let him himself listen to the quiet.
BANG!
That wasn't quiet.
BANG! BANG!
The hands around his throat drop and Dick drops with them, falling to the floor as he sucks in a gasp of air. For the second time in a night, the picture fills in slowly…
His face is still too hot, his eyes are still blurry. But, the color's red running in between the fading black dots.
The room smells like blood.
It's everywhere, the taste coating the back of Dick's mouth and filling his nose.
Dick's not surprised when he lifts a hand to wipe his face and finds blood there, too.
Desmond….what's left of him...has two rounds of bullets in his chest and one cracked through his skull.
Dick looks up.
Jason looks back, the gun from the table held in his hands.
"He was going to kill you," Jason whispers and every part of him is shaking except for his hands. "D-Dick, I had to. He was going to kill you. I had to…."
Everything is quiet.
ooooooo
It's fully morning by now, not that they can tell from sitting in the cave.
Jason's still sitting in the computer chair, quiet, waiting without anything to say.
Which is a pity...because Dick's been waiting to think of something to say, too, and he still hasn't found anything.
Dick holds his hand out for the gun and Jason hands it over without question, staying silent as Dick wipes it down thoroughly-making sure there's no prints, no blood, no evidence, nothing left of what happened before.
Except a dead mobster with three bullet holes on the other side of the city.
But that will come later.
Dick doesn't have the words so when he speaks, it surprises both of them. "Did you ever go to Star?"
"I...I did," Jason says slowly. "It was a round trip. I asked Roy to cover for me."
Dick nods.
"How'd you find Blockbuster's hideout," Dick asks and his voice at least is calm, projecting nothing of the mess underneath.
"Selina found me."
Dick hums.
So, it seems like Selina hadn't given up, just changed tactics. How very like her.
He'll decide later what he feels about that.
Dick finishes wiping down the gun and reaches for Jason's hands.
Jason stares at him blankly.
"There's blood on them," Dick tells him softly.
Jason blinks, looking down in surprise to find there is. It's not strange that he's surprised. Shooting someone from as far as Jason was wouldn't leave much blood. Holding on behind Dick as they rode back would.
Jason holds out his hands and Dick takes the warm cloth to wipe at the blood crusted under the nails.
They both watch as Dick works, until all the blood on Jason is gone.
The blood on Dick will take longer to get off. He was too close, after all.
"I don't regret it," Jason says suddenly. "If that's what you're waiting for. I don't regret doing it. He was going to kill you."
"Jason…" Dick doesn't get up, Jason's hands still held in the cloth.
Jason's breathing hitches before he goes on and tries to pretend it doesn't. "I d-don't know if that means I can't be a hero...or, or if you don't want me around Tim or living in the manor or-"
"Jason."
Jason flinches, finally meeting his eyes and it hurts. It hurts that Jason thought he'd have to flinch at all.
...and, really, it doesn't matter how tall he'll get. It doesn't matter how accomplished he becomes or how many missions Jason does. A part of Dick will always see Jason as that sullen, too small thirteen year old in dirty street clothes and with wide eyes as he sees the cave for the first time and tries to pretend it doesn't mean something.
"Jay, I'm always going to want you here," Dick says. "Always. You're my brother. You're Tim's brother. You're family. I told you, that doesn't change no matter what happens. Of course, it doesn't.'
Jason's lip is pinched, trying to hold everything in and Dick wishes he wouldn't.
"I love you, Littlewing," Dick assures.
Jason's stiff and unmoving and if Dick looks close enough he can see his shoulders shake.
Dick folds his hands in his.
"I don't blame you, Jason," he tells him, voice firm and honest. "I...I understand, okay? I know why you did it. It wasn't your fault. I promise, I promise I don't blame you."
Jason lets out a noise, part pain and part utter, heartbreaking relief.
It hurts.
"...how do I know you're not lying," Jason asks warily. "Like with Tim. What if you're just saying it to make me feel better and you really think...you think I'm a monster…"
"Jason," Dick sighs and runs a hand over his face, "see, this is what I meant about me not being good about this. I'm not lying. Not about this-never about this." He looks at Jason, squeezes his hands. "I always love you, Jason. It doesn't matter what you do. It doesn't matter what you say. There's nothing you could do to change that. You're always going to be my brother."
He lifts his hand up to Jason's cheek, trying to wipe at the wetness he finds there. "And you're not a monster. For this? Of course, you're not. You won't ever be. You're a hero and you're my hero, okay? Do you believe me?"
There's silence. A stretch of quiet where Dick can hear Jason struggling and failing to control his breathing, hears his throat hitch, sees tears before Jason takes his hand back to wipe at them.
Dick lets him. Let's him have whatever he needs.
"Yeah…," Jason finally says quietly. "Yeah, I believe you."
Then, Jason reaches out his hands, going to Dick's neck, his jaw. A hug
And Dick has to push back a sudden wave of nausea-of can't breathe and too hot hands-that comes at touch because this is Jason and this is important.
More important than anything. Especially Dick.
He can't hide it, not completely.
Jason sees it and he freezes, tilting his head in surprise.
"It's not you," Dick says quickly, doesn't even give that fear a chance to grow. "Just….just maybe watch the neck for a little bit because…"
Jason's eyes go wide, nodding and Dick let's him assume that it's Desmond because to not...to not makes things so complicated….and tonight's complicated enough already.
But, Dick can't push it back anymore.
Dick smiles at Jason, squeezing his hand again and gently letting go before Jay can notice the way he feels like something's crawling under his skin.
"Okay," Dick tells him. "Wait here for a minute, alright? Then, we can….I don't know. Do something that's not sit down here in the cave. Watch a detective movie, maybe. I'm just going to get a shower and clean up."
Jason blinks before grimacing slightly at the reminder of the blood sticking Dick's shirt to his chest. "Okay."
Dick keeps his smile stuck to his face even when every muscle in his body aches from being held too tightly. He needs to-
Jason rubs the back of his head, offering Dick a small smile. "...I love you, too, you know."
Dick wants to reach out, to pull him into a hug and laugh and grin and do all the other things he should be doing, that a good older brother would be doing, until Jason feels safe and secure and loved, until he'll never doubt it again. It's what Dick wants to do right now. What he needs to do.
….But, he c a n' t. Not right now.
"We'll figure this out together, Jay," Dick manages to promise and then he heads off in the direction of the showers, keeping his footsteps light and casual until he's out of view and then…
He starts running.
He barely makes it to the bathroom before he's turning the shower to max, as hot as it can go.
It's not enough.
There's too much blood on him.
And Dick turns his head and gags; but, there's nothing left to come up.
Everything's too loud again.
The sound of the shower thudding down like the sound of a fight. Dick's teeth crack from how hard he's holding them and it sounds like a wrist. The vents in the cave humming like the ones in the police precinct. And the water on him is too hot, on his jaw, on his chest.
The blood's washing off; but, Dick can still feel it.
He changes his mind, turns the shower to cold and tilts his head up so he has an excuse for shaking.
How could he blame Jason?
Everything goes back to Dick eventually.
He didn't manage the risk and their identities got out to Spyral.
He underestimated Catalina.
He faced down Desmond without a plan and put Jason into a situation he never should have had to be in.
And that's his fault.
Unacceptable.
Bruce would never have….
"Don't let there be a time."
Dick laughs, curling into himself and laughing.
But, there had been a time and Jason's the one who paid for it. Dick had always found a way before. With Roy and Luther. With Bart and Jaime. With Rachel. With Kory-Kory, he needs, he wants, he doesn't know how-and her sister.
Dick had always found a way before.
But, he didn't this time. He failed.
Dick was never Bruce.
How could he be? He didn't know how?
Bruce died before Dick could learn….and now, he's still here picking up the pieces and trying to learn a lesson from them.
Dick lays his head against the tile and mouths the words only for himself.
"What would Bruce do?"
"What choice would Batman make?"
"What's the plan?"
Because Dick isn't sure.
Of any of it.
So, he listens even though there's no quiet left.
Because it's still Dick's responsibility to make a plan. He owes it to too many people and he's so tired of holding it all up sometimes.
Dick opens his eyes.
Actually, he knows exactly what Bruce would do. Use everything. Do what needs to be done. Move forward in a way that no one can expect because it needs to be done.
Dick Grayson is Nightwing, was Robin before that, the Boy Wonder, the Dynamic Duo, the one who understood Bruce in a way that no one would or ever would have the chance to do again.
So, even with everything falling apart, Dick still knows how to make a plan that will use every angle, every resource, every, strategy. And a plan Dick knows in his bones will work.
It's everything they need. And they have one chance to do it right.
Two parts.
He has a spy organization he needs to take down. Identities he needs to make sure are safe. And Helena and Tiger, who he doesn't trust so he needs someone there he can trust completely. Someone who knows undercover work, knows how to blend in and bend everything until it works to his way.
Dick has Jason. Dick has his brother who Dick's already hurt today in ways he'll never be able to make up for but will spend his entire life trying. And Dick knows people. Jason always responds best to responsibility, to work, to trust.
And Dick thinks he has a way to help everyone.
A plan that Bruce would've made.
Dick washes up with quick precision, finds a change of clothes, and finally feels his feet under him.
There's too many details to plan for now. Talking to Helena and Tiger. Coordinating again with Selina. Barbara will be back soon and he needs to talk to her about...about everything else. He needs to call Tim back home. He needs to…
He needs to ask Jason. That's the first step. And everything about this rests on Jason so Dick knows he needs to, knows that Bruce would be strong enough to...But...right now, today, Jason's been put through enough already-by Dick, for Dick. And Dick's not strong enough to ask for anything more just yet.
Not for anymore.
Not today.
It can wait.
So, instead, Dick goes to find Jason upstairs in the manor, freshly changed and turning through old movies to have something to do.
Dick sits on the rug next to him. "Hey."
"Hey," Jason says, looking exhausted as he rubs at his eyes. He still manages to give Dick a once over. "You look….better, I guess."
Does he?
Dick puts on a smile. "Just a headache and a hangnail."
ooooooo
A/N:
Okay, thanks for getting through this, everyone! Please go eat some chocolate or something. I truly think this is the most traumatizing chapter in the story while the next one's angst is mainly centered on fall out. Then, things get happier again. In my defense...this chapter needed to happen because something had to break Dick out of the mold of being Bruce.
I am considering changing this story rating to "M", if any of ya'll have time, I'd love to know your opinions on if the rating should be increased since I am honestly not great at assessing it myself.
Next Up: Year 9: Death in the Family
(...and ya'll thought I'd skip that one)
Thank you guys so much for your support of this story! I am aware many of the issues covered in this chapter are serious and traumatizing subject matter; so, know I'm trying to handle these respectfully.
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Full List of Warnings and How to Avoid
a.) Non-Consensual Drug Use (unspecified date rape drug)-anything after "a glass of champagne gets shoved..." to "Dick has a headache and a hangnail", discussion of the drug does follow at various points in the chapter.
b.) Murder Disguised as Suicide-from "Raya," his own voice sounds far away" to "He killed him because of Dick"
c.) Attempted Sexual Assault-from "is this what shock feels like? Dick can't remember" to "Dick has a headache and a hangnail", discussion follows after at various points in the chapter but especially in the following scene
d.) Discussion of Attempted Sexual Assault-from "Dick has a headache and a hangnail" to essentially the rest of the chapter but especially until the next scene break marked with "ooooo"
e.) Symptoms of a Panic Attack to Full Blown Panic Attack-throughout chapter but especially after "a glass of champagne gets shoved..." to the rest of the chapter
f.) Self-Destructive Behavior and Guilt (really the entire chapter, but anything after d in the above list especially)
g.) Attempted Murder by Strangulation-"Until Desmond's hands catch him" to "Bang"
Chapter Summary: This chapter begins with Dick feeling lost and remembering Bruce in the cave. He talks to Tim where it is mentioned that Barbara has survived her shooting and is expected to make a full recovery (though with months of rehabilitation before she gets to the field). Dick asks Tim to go to the Tower where he expects Spyral hacked the system, Tim agrees. Jason is revealed to have overheard the conversation and rightfully accuses Dick of sending Tim on a wild goose chase in order to get him away from Gotham and safe. Dick admits that Jason's right and asks Jason to leave for Star City. Jason appears to agree. At Wayne Gala, Dick is with a freshly out of the hospital Barbara. Dick receives word from Raya that Pop Haly has died (presumably by Blockbuster). Dick is in a state of shock-plus influenced by a drug he unknowing was slipped at the party. Catalina attacks him and attempt sexual assault; but, is stopped and nearly killed by Barbara. Later at the police station, the effects of the drugs have worn off and Commissioner Gordon tells Dick that Catalina was also behind the coffee-shop attack from last chapter. He asks if Dick wants to press charges for attempted assault and Dick downplays the incident and says that as long as Catalina is already going to jail for everything else (which she is), then he does not wish to press charges. Dick leaves the police station in a state of mild shock, hunts down one of Blockbuster's former associates, almost breaks his wrist for information, and is stopped by Selina. A worried Selina gives him the information to find Blockbuster and offers to come with him. Dick refuses. Dick confronts Blockbuster and Blockbuster nearly strangles him to death. Jason kills Blockbuster while Blockbuster is killing Dick. At the cave, Dick reassures Jason that he does not blame him and will always consider him his brother. Once out of view from Jason, Dick has a major panic attack and devises a plan to send Jason into Spyral-with the belief it will help both Jason and solve the Spyral issue.