Chapter Text
> > >
How Dick made it back to his apartment was anyone’s guess. When he woke up in his own bed the next morning, he had a few blissful moments of complete ignorance before all the memories came crashing back to him.
“You need to eat something, Dickie.”
Dick groaned and turned over, tugging the comforter over his head. “Go away,” he grumbled. “You’re not real.”
The boy snickered from above him. “Oh, I am very real.” Dick peaked a glance to see his brother leaned over him, arms crossed with a triumphant grin. “You puked everything out of your system hours ago, so you can’t blame it on alcohol anymore, bird brain.”
Dick blinked. He was right. Jason was right. Dick sat up and fully took in his appearance. He was once again dressed in this Robin suit, but it was no longer bloodied and broken like Dick had previously seen. Instead, Jason looked like he had in his prime. The insignia shined and the suit’s colors gleamed in the warm light filtering through the window. The boy was still maskless, eyes bright with excitement.
“Are…” he swallowed, and tried again. “Are you a hallucination or a ghost or…” His voice trailed off. In the crazy world they lived in it could be any number of answers. Mind-control magic, Fear Toxin, psychic damage, you name it. But his question seemed to intrigue the kid. Dick was reluctant to call him Jason until he knew for sure exactly what he was dealing with here.
After some thought, he answered, “I don’t know,” and shrugged his shoulders. “A ghost, maybe? Your guess is as good as mine.”
Dick furrowed his brows. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean I don’t know, dickhead,” Jason snipped at him. “It’s not like there’s someone giving me all the answers. I just woke up like this. You’re the first person I’ve talked to since–” Jason cut himself off.
Steadying himself, Dick finished his sentence. “Since you died.”
The image of Jason flickered. Dick’s eyes widened as he watched in horror as the figure before him blurred like TV static. Jason looked down at himself with a shocked expression.
“Hey,” Jason said in a wavering voice, “stop that.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Dick grunted out.
Jason groaned in pain as his visuals solidified. But where he had been bright and pure before, he was now torn and broken. Dick leaned away from him in terror.
“Ow,” Jason squeaked out, his body rigid with tension. He pulled his arms into his midsection, hunching over. Dick cringed as he saw how the boy’s arm bent in the middle of his forearm.
Dick felt a twisting in his bowls and threw himself off the bed. “No,” he said sternly, “this isn’t real.” Dick staggered towards the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. His knees buckled out from under him and slammed against the cold tile. Dick shoved his face into the porcelain bowl and heaved up nothing but stomach acid. It burned through his throat and Dick coughed harshly.
When the last of the bile dripped from his mouth, Dick wiped it away with the back of his hand. He slowly stumbled to his feet and over to the sink. Dick turned the faucet on and shoved his hand under the stream dragging the water over his face, swishing it around before spitting it back into the basin. He then rubbed his eyes, brushing away the encrusted sleep and desperately trying to wake up from whatever this was.
After a few minutes, he turned the water off and listened. Outside the bathroom, there was nothing but silence. He slowly creaked open the door. The bedroom was empty. Dick breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out of the bathroom. Turning the corner to enter his kitchen, Dick began preparing his breakfast. He reached up and took one of the mismatched bowls from his cabinet. From his fridge he took out a small carton of milk, and removed the cap. But unfortunately it failed the sniff-test. If Dick had anything left in his system, it would have threatened to come back up at the gag-inducing smell from the curdled milk. He overturned it into the sink, leaving the empty carton lying on its side in the basin.
Dick then grabbed his cereal from above the fridge.
“You still eat that sugary shit?”
Dick almost jumped out of skin. He dropped the box and colorful pieces scattered across the floor. “Jesus.”
“You’d think after so many years in our line of work you’d scare less easily,” Jason said, snickering.
Decidedly ignoring the comment, Dick took a step, crushing a small batch of cereal puffs. “Fuck,” he groaned.
“Language, D, last I heard, Alf still had the swear jar up and running.”
Dick kept ignoring him.
“You can’t just pretend I don’t exist, Dickie. Didn’t work in life, I doubt it’ll start working now.”
Dick winced. “Can you just… stop.”
“You sick of me already, D? I just got back and you’re already wishin’ I was back in the ground.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tight. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop pretending to be–” Dick cut himself off. He closed his eyes and took a long breath in, then out slowly. “Just stop. Please.”
When he opened his eyes, Jason was still there. But different. He was no longer in the Robin suit, neither the broken or pristine one, but in his typical civilian wear. His signature red hoodie, paired with dark jeans and black converse.
His expression was painful, stormy blue eyes filled with concern. Dick felt his throat tighten. Here he was, getting sympathy from his dead brother. It was shameful.
No, he reminded himself. It’s not him. Just a trick of his imagination. Grief could do crazy things. Scary things.
Dick tore away from the hallucination’s gaze and began to pick up the pieces of cereal. The figure knelt down and tried to pinch the puff between its fingers, but nothing happened. Pinching his brows together, Dick leaned over and picked it off the floor.
An idea solidified in his brain. He tossed the piece over at his hallucination.
“Hey,” Not-Jason protested, his hand snapping up to block it, but it just passed straight through him. Not-Jason frowned.
Breathing out a sigh of relief, Dick pushed himself off the floor and snagged the box from the counter. He shoved his hand into the bag and poured a fistful of cereal into his mouth. Making his way into the living room, he collapsed onto the couch and turned on the TV. Dick picked up the remote from the floor with his foot and brought it to his hand.
“That’s disgusting,” Not-Jason grimaced.
Dick gave him a quick sideways glance and continued flipping through channels absent-mindedly.
“Move over, you’re hogging the whole couch.”
Dick pretended not to hear him.
Not-Jason huffed. “C’mon Dickie, I know you’re a stubborn pain in the ass, but this is getting ridiculous.”
Don’t give in, Dick chided himself. It’s not real.
“Please, Dick?” His voice was so small. Pleading. Begging. For any recognition at all.
Swallowing around the tight squeeze in his throat, Dick kept his gaze pointed forward.
“Fine, be an ass about it.” Not-Jason huffed, sitting on the ground in front of the couch. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.
Dick changed the channel again, and a familiar theme song began playing. It was some dumb kids show that Dick had loved when he was younger (and still kind of did). Him and Jason had watched the first couple of seasons together before…
Dick blinked the growing tears from his eyes. The theme song played on.
He heard a soft humming along to the tune. Dick glanced down and saw Not-Jason tapping his fingers to the beat. Then Not-Jason peaked back at him, but quickly tore his gaze away, and stopped humming.
“What’re you looking at, bird brain?”
Dick scoffed, rolled his eyes. Then the theme ended and the episode started. Slowly, Dick tucked his legs in, giving Jason enough room to slide himself into his usual seat on the couch.
They sat there for a while. Never speaking, but the silence was never tense. Every few minutes, a joke would really get to them, and the two would burst out laughing. Dick, with his squawking cackle, and Jason with his raspy snicker. Dick drank in the sound. It had been so long since he had heard it. Too long.
And a thought surfaced…
Even if this is all fake, Dick supposed, maybe there’s no harm in pretending.
Then Dick’s phone lit up from where it sat on the coffee table. Dick glanced at the screen and saw a notification from a contact named ‘Girl from Jim’s’. As he picked it up to read it, he felt a presence over his shoulder.
“Real classy, D. You didn’t even get her name?”
“Shut up, it was too loud to hear shit in there.”
Dick opened the message. It read: ‘Hey Richie! My brother is having another thing at our place tn, and I wanted to kno if you were gonna be there? I’d love to see you again <3’
Smiling, Dick began texting back.
“You’re going out again?”
Dick’s expression fell at Jason’s disappointing tone. “So what?”
Jason scowled. “You need to take a break, Dick. This kinda stuff you’re doing… it isn’t safe.”
Dick scoffed. He just ignored it and kept typing out his response. Suddenly, the phone was yanked from his hand. Dick saw it skid to the other side of the room. “What the hell, Jay?”
“I’m serious,” Jason bristled. “You need to stop.”
“You don’t know shit about me,” Dick growled, taking a step towards his phone. Jason forced himself in his path.
“I’ve seen you, Dick!” Jason snapped. “I know probably better than you how much you’ve been using. What you’ve been using. I’ve seen what that shit can do first hand, and it isn’t pretty.”
Dick stalled. He took a breath. “I don’t give a fuck,” he said evenly.
“Well I do,” Jason scowled. “And so do a lot of other people.”
Huffing a sigh, Dick pushed through Jason to reach his phone.
“If you go, I’ll call Bruce.”
Dick froze. “You wouldn't. You can’t.”
Jason’s expression darkened. “You have no idea what I can do.”
Glancing between his phone and his brother, Dick rolled his eyes. “I’ll take my chances.” He finished his response and hit send.
I’ll be there ;)
Dick decidedly ignored Jason for the rest of the day. Several hours he spent sleeping, pretending the kid sulking on his couch was once again invisible. After that he took the longest shower of his life, doing his full curly-hair routine for the first time in weeks, anything to kill time and avoid the other presence in his apartment. He picked out one of his favorite shirts and was just finishing tying the laces on his sneakers when he heard a voice from the other room. At first, he thought it was Jason again, so he just ignored it. But at further listening, Dick realized the voice was too low to belong to the kid. He passed through the doorway and saw Jason staring at him with a shit-eating grin. The kid was kneeling behind his coffee table. On the counter, Dick saw his phone lying face-up. The screen was on, showing an active call.
Dick felt a panic set in as he saw the contact name read, B-man.
“Hello?” the man’s voice came through the speakers. “Chum?”
He wanted to move. He wanted to hang up the phone and just leave, but his body felt frozen.
“Go on, talk to him,” Jason goaded him, a superior smile on his face.
Dick scowled. ‘Fuck you,’ he mouthed at him.
Slowly, he picked up the phone and put it to his ear.
“Heyyy, B,” he said, trying and failing to sound as casual as possible. “What’s up?”
A few moments of quiet from the other end. “Is everything alright, Dick?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Everything's fine. How are you?”
“I…” Bruce stuttered. “I’m fine. I was assuming there was something of concern when you called me. I know we haven't been on the best of terms since–”
“I called you?” Dick cut the man off, not wanting to reopen old wounds at the moment. “Ohhh, my bad, B. Must’ve butt-dialed you,” he laughed. “But yeah, no, everything’s all good. Great. So I’ll let you go now, talk to you later.”
“Dick, are you sure that–”
“Totally sure! But I gotta go. Buh-bye, Bruce!”
Dick put the phone down and turned the power off before looking back to Jason. “You little shit.”
Jason just smiled wider. “Ooh, you’re in trouble,” he sing-songed.
“I’m an adult,” Dick huffed. “I’m not in trouble.”
He threw his cross-body bag over his head and across his chest, letting out a heavy sigh. Dick took one last glance at the hallucination scowling at him from his living room.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
Jason scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You first.”
Dick furrowed his brows and slammed the door in his face.
< < <
As soon as Dick laid eyes on him he knew something was up. Jason and him had been in the same room for five whole minutes, and not insulted him once. Over the years, the little jabs they threw at each other had lost their heat. Early on, they had learned exactly what buttons to press that could really get at the other’s tender spots in a way that only siblings really could. But with time, they moved away from picking at barely scabbed over wounds to the light teasing about trivial bullshit. Dick’s haircut and fashion choices were of constant scrutiny, of course. And Dick had grown almost fond of his brother’s quips. There was a small tenderness in it.
But now, the boy was quiet. Sullen. It was so unlike him.
The two sat at the dining room table, alone. Alfred had gone to fetch Bruce, who was knee-deep in cases currently. It would be a while before Alf finally coaxed him into emerging from his dark solitude for family dinner. Even though Bruce knew Dick was leaving soon. Well… he probably knew. Dick had not exactly told him directly per se. But Dick had told Barbara. Who had told Jason. Who had told Alfred. Who had maybe almost definitely told Bruce.
So he probably knew.
Dick began to squirm in the on-going silence. He bounded his leg under the table. A soft click click click as his heel hit the ground.
“Can you not just fucking sit still for one second?” Jason snapped.
“Jesus,” Dick reared back. “What’s got your scaly green panties in a wad?”
Jason glowered. He said something under his breath that Dick did not catch. But underneath the anger Jason was projecting, Dick saw the shine in his eyes.
Dick’s expression softened. “What?”
“Nothing.” The boy crossed his arms over his chest tightly.
“It’s clearly something,” Dick prodded. “If you’re being such a gloomy-gus about it.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “B didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“I–” Jason cut himself off, turning his face away. But Dick saw how his bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. “Figures. You’d be acting much more superior if you knew. More than you already do, I guess.”
The smirk fell from his face when Dick spotted the tears brimming in his brother’s eyes. “Jason, what are you talking about?”
“You finally got your wish, Dickiebird. Bruce benched me. Permanently.”
Dick blanched. “What? Why?”
“Because I–” Jason choked out, voice cracking. He clenched his jaw shut. Then he suddenly pushed himself away from the table and bolted. His chair fell on its side, echoing though the halls of the Manor.
“What is going on?” Bruce's voice boomed.
Dick shot him a dangerous glare. “You took Robin from him?”
Bruce blinked back at him. “Yes,” he said curtly.
“He was doing so well, what happened?” Dick looked to where Jason had disappeared up the stairs. He thought back to all the patrols they had shared together. Sure, Jason lacked the ease that Dick possessed for acrobatics, but he knew how to connect with people, especially other kids, in a way that Dick never could. Gotham trusted him. Dick never had that.
“Dick, it was not a decision made lightly.” Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder, but Dick quickly stepped out of the touch.
“You gave him Robin – my name – without my permission, and now that things are finally starting to get better, you take it away just as easily?”
“You don’t understand–”
“Then tell me!”
“Jason killed someone, Dick!”
And the world seemed to stop. A cold hand settled around his heart and squeezed. Dick swallowed to keep his voice from trembling as he lamely said, “What?”
Bruce let out a heavy breath. “Last week. Jason pushed a man off a building. And killed him.”
Dick clenched his fists. “N–no. Jason would never– could never…”
“It’s the facts of the case, chum. Until he assumes the accountability that comes with that, taking Robin was the least I could do.”
“He’s denying it?”
“Of course,” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s claiming that the man fell of his own accord, but the mask footage and all security cameras on the scene paint a different picture.”
Feeling his heartbeat pound in his ears, Dick took a step away.
“You haven’t seen him these last few weeks, Dick,” Bruce continued. “Jason’s been… different. Angrier. More violent. Less forgiving.”
“But that doesn’t mean he killed someone,” Dick urged.
Bruce reached a hand out towards him, but Dick smacked it away, instead turning and heading in the direction Jason had disappeared to.
The kid had a myriad of hiding places throughout the Manor. He had discovered the deepest nooks and crannies the old building had to offer, some of which even Alfred had not known prior. Dick had found most of them. But some were still a mystery.
It took him almost a half hour to track Jay to a small corner of the attic, behind a pile of dust-encrusted boxes and an antique wardrobe. Dick was able to move some of the lighter barriers out of the way, but even he could not squeeze through to where Jason had holed himself up. So he made do.
Dick lowered himself to kneeling, purposefully making scuffling noises to alert Jason to his presence.
The kid bristled. “What do you want?”
“I came to see if you’re okay.”
Scoffing, Jason pulled his legs tighter against his chest. “What’d’ya think?”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you’re a little upset.”
“Really putting your detective skills to the test, huh?”
Dick laughed, but as he remembered what he came here for, his expression strained. “Jason, I’m sorry. I know what you’re going through.”
“No, you don’t,” Jay said through bared teeth,
“How do you think you got to be Robin in the first place?” Dick retorted.
“That’s not–” Jason cut himself off. “That’s not what I meant…” His words trailed off, but understood.
“I know that, too.” Dick nodded. “After–” he took a steadying breath. “After my parents were killed, I was so angry. You know I ran away from four different foster homes?”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “I knew you were a little menace, but damn, D.”
“Yep,” he said, popping the p. “B had no idea what to do with me. Once I moved into the Manor Alfie had to install locks on my windows to keep me from going out to find wherever that bastard was hiding.”
“And you were going to…”
Dick pressed his lips together and nodded solemnly.
“Damn,” Jason marveled. “Didn’t think you’d have that in you, Goldie.”
Dick smirked. “Alfred had to start hiding the kitchen knives after I kept taking them on my nightly escapades,” he said with a self-scathing mockery. “If Bruce hadn't taken all that pent-up rage and frustration and helped me make Robin out of it… I don’t know where I’d be.”
Jason sniffled. “And I took that from you.”
“No, no, Jay. I stopped being Robin long before Bruce ever even took you in. And…” Dick huffed out a sigh. “It was probably for the best.”
But Jason said nothing.
“I know that this feels like an ending, Jay…” Dick continued. “But it could be a beginning for you. To make a new name for yourself.”
“Instead of stealing yours?” Jason said darkly.
Dick pressed his lips together. “I don’t feel that way, Jay.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah,” Dick admitted. “I did.” He swallowed and gathered his thoughts. “I was angry. At Bruce. At you. At everything. Robin was all I had for so long. It was my whole life. And when Bruce took that away from me… I thought my life was over. But it wasn’t. It’s not.” He smiled at Jason. At his brother.
“And yours isn’t either, little wing.”
Jason glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time. “You think?”
“I know it.”
> > >
“Wakey wakey, Dickie.”
Dick stilled. Maybe if he just pretended to be asleep still, this hallucination would leave him alone. Not like it had worked any other time, but the thirtieth time’s the charm, Dick supposed.
“I can see you’re awake. Open your damn eyes, D.”
Dick blinked, consciousness coming back to him in waves. He realized that – for the first time in he had no idea how long – Dick had woken up in his own bed for the second morning in a row. But the small win was ruined by the repeated demands of his hallucination.
He tried to speak, but it just came out at a garbled whine.
“Wanna try that one more time?”
Swallowing, Dick cleared his throat. “Go away. Please.”
Jason smirked. “And let you sleep the whole day away? No can do, Dickiebird.”
“Just leave me alone,” Dick pleaded.
Everything was still for a moment. Dick briefly thought that the apparition had left him. But Jason was still standing at the edge of his bed. The boy frowned deeply.
“What did I ever do to you?”
Dick gaped at the younger boy. “What?”
“Was I really that bad of a brother?” Jason’s eyes were brimming with tears. “I know we didn’t always get along, but I thought that maybe you’d finally give a flying fuck about me now that I died.” Jason’s sadness was quickly flipping over to anger. “That all those tears actually meant something. But–”
“Hey, wait–”
“But if it was all just for pity-points then I’ll go. Then you can drop the grieving-little-rich-boy act and fucking move on already.”
“Jason, stop.” Dick huffed out. “You think I’m not grieving you? Seriously?” He blinked rapidly, desperately trying to keep his voice from cracking. “I miss you every second of every day. You think it isn’t killing me having to see you like this? Knowing it’s not real? That you’re gone?”
“But I don’t have to be,” Jason cut in, expression pleading. “We could…” his eyes searched Dick’s face for any ounce of connection as an idea came to him. “We could just pretend. I’m here, Dick.” He steadied himself. “I’m here.”
Dick let out a shaking breath. He allowed the possibility to play out in his mind. And he came to a decision.
He pulled the covers aside, a silent invitation. Jason’s expression softened. His eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. But Dick nodded. Slowly, Jason made his way to Dick’s bedside. Dick tried to ignore how, as Jason leaned onto the thin mattress, there was no impression of his weight. He wrapped his arms around his brother. But there was no warmth felt. No steady rise and fall of his chest.
Pretending could only take one so far.
But still he laid there. And still he tried.
Minutes passed, and the brothers just lay together, breathing in tandem, soaking in the momentary peace they allowed themselves. Until…
“Dick?”
“Mmhmm?”
“I’m sorry.”
A breath in, then out.
“Me too, little wing. I’m so sorry.”
Dick paused, and then…
“Jason?”
“Uh huh?”
“I love you.”
Jason chuckled. “Love you too, Dickie.”
A breath in.
And out.
“Dick?”
“Mmhmm.”
A hesitation.
“You need to tell Bruce what’s going on.”
Dick balked. “What? No.”
Jason’s brows pinched together. “Please, Dick. They need to know.”
“They need to know that I’m fucking crazy? I don’t think so.” He pushed Jason off the bed, and the boy retreated a few steps back into the corner.
“You’re not crazy,” Jason said through gritted teeth.
“You’re right, I’m just a druggie. That’s much better,” Dick said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“It’s not your brain and it’s not the drugs.”
“How would you know? You’re not real.”
Jason’s eyes widened. His expression dropped. Then an anger sprouted in his face, dark and hardened. “This isn’t about me, I’m talking about getting you help. For the drinking and drugs and all this shit you’ve been doing.”
Dick bit his tongue.
“You need to tell Bruce.”
“Fuck no,” Dick laughed hysterically.
“He can get you help, Dick. Get you a therapist or an AA sponsor or whatever the hell will help you recover.”
Dick furrowed his brows. “Who says I need to recover?”
“I do.” Jason stared at him intently. “I do, Dick. If you keep on like this, you could OD. You could die. I can’t–” Jason clamped his jaw shut. He swallowed then opened his mouth again.
“My–”
Jason was interrupted by the sound of forceful knocking at the door. Dick groaned. Who the hell was knocking so incessantly at… one in the afternoon. Hm.
Still.
Dick rolled out of bed, head knocking against the nightstand. He cursed as he rubbed a palm against his throbbing skull.
When he looked back up, Jason was gone.
Dick just huffed under his breath. Good riddance, he thought.
Then the knocking started up again.
Then the knocking returned and a voice called from outside.
“Dick? You here, chum?”
Dick blanched. Shit. What the hell was Bruce doing here? At his apartment? Now?
Any lingering feeling of tiredness drained from him as his blood ran cold and he raced to make himself look somewhat presentable. He threw on a shirt and a pair of pants, quickly running a comb through his curls. Dick caught a glance of himself in the mirror and sighed. His neck was littered with bruises. Dark lipstick dotted all across his cheeks and mouth. He ran one hand under the faucet, wiping his face, as the other wrapped a scarf around to conceal the hickies. Dick said a wordless prayer that Bruce would just do a simple check-in and then make his exit. But even Dick knew that was too much to hope for.
The incessant knocking returned as Dick called back, “I’m coming!” He reached for the knob, taking in the sight of his sort-of almost-dad standing in the doorway. Dick immediately saw the tension evident in the tight line of his shoulders. His hands clasped over his midsection, one finger trailing over an old scar on the inside of his palm over and over in attempts to provide himself some sort of comfort. His eyes were narrowed slightly. But not in anger. Dick knew better than anyone what Bruce looked like when he was angry. This was not that. This was something much rarer. Dick could see how concerned the older man was. When he saw Dick, a hint of a smile traced across his lips.
“Chum,” he said. But the smile quickly faded when he saw the state Dick was in. Dick shook off his nerves and leaned on the doorframe in a forced sense of normalcy.
“Hey, B, what are you doing here?”
Bruce blinked at him. “Can I come in?”
Dick pursed his lips. “Uhm… I wasn’t expecting–”
“I won’t be a burden,” Bruce interjected. “I just wanted to check in on you.”
Furrowing his brows, Dick said, “Well that’s so kind of you, but I promise that I’m fine, so you can leave now.” Dick tried to shut the door, but Bruce put a hand through before it could please.
“Please, Dick.”
Dick widened his eyes. He suddenly got the sense that this was maybe not so much for Dick as much as it was for Bruce, himself. Dick creaked the door open and allowed Bruce to enter. The younger man waved him into his apartment’s cramped and cluttered living room. Bruce’s eyes trailed around his surroundings, his jaw tight. It was the first time he had been in the space since Dick first moved in, Dick realized. A lot of life had been lived between these four walls since then. Especially in the last few months. And the room definitely showed it.
Empty beer cans decorated the tabletops and peaked out from beneath the couch where they had been kicked without a second thought. Cereal was still scattered across the kitchen floor from the previous morning. Old containers of take-out and fast food were piled up in the overflowing garbage cans, gnats circling them. Dirtied clothes were scattered across the floor – the aftermath of Dick’s nightly exploits. Bruce raised an eyebrow at Dick. But the younger man ignored the wordless question. Instead he just collapsed back onto the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. Dick could feel the headache begin to settle in.
“So what did you wanna say?” Dick spat out, more hostile than intended.
Bruce pressed his lips together. He looked at Dick intently. “Are you sure you’re alright, Dick?”
Clenching his jaw, Dick tensed further. From around the corner, a small boy peeked his head out, a pained expression on his face. Dick blanched. Not now, he thought desperately. Not now. He stepped out, revealing himself fully. Why did Dick’s subconscious choose this moment to torment him?
“You know he’s right, Dickie,” the hallucination urged. “You need help.”
“I’m fine.”
“Look at the state of this place, chum,” Bruce said. “I think you’d send Alfred into a shock-induced coma if he saw this. What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.”
Bruce continued to stand in the center of the room. Dick desperately wished he would just be a normal person and sit down. The apparition of Jason stepped up to Bruce’s side, also staring Dick down. This was beginning to feel more and more like an intervention.
“Barbara has not heard from you in weeks and–”
“Well we aren't dating anymore,” Dick growled out.
“I know, but she’s still worried about you. We all are.”
Dick hummed noncommittedly.
“Don’t be a dick,” Jason scoffed.
“And,” Bruce continued, “I spoke with your teammates on the Titans and they also have not exchanged communication with you in quite some time.”
“Because they suspended me. I’m not on missions, so there’s no need to ‘exchange communication’,” Dick said, using finger quotes.
“They’re your friends.”
Dick said nothing.
“Now you’re just being willfully obtuse,” Jason rolled his eyes.
Dick forced himself not to react to something that was not really there.
“Fine,” Bruce huffed. “I know you also have your coworkers on the force, but–”
“I’m not working for the BPD anymore.”
Bruce’s lips parted slightly. “What?”
“I–” Dick blinked the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “I got fired,” he murmured.
“Tell him why,” Jason told him. “Tell him, Dick. He needs to know.”
Dick clamped his mouth shut.
“I’m so sorry, chum.” Bruce laid a hand on his back, rubbing small circles into his back. The older man took a long breath in, then let it out.
“Why don’t you come back to the Manor?”
Dick shook his head. “No, I’m not letting you micro-manage me anymore,” he pushed Bruce’s arm away from him. “I’m not your Robin anymore, remember?”
“That’s low, Dickie,” Jason muttered. “Even for you.”
Dick swiped a hand through his hair and tugged at his curls in frustration.
“You know Bruce is right. You need help, Dick. You need to tell him.”
“I am sick and tired of other people thinking they know what’s best for me,” Dick shot back. “In case you forgot, Bruce, I am a grown man. I’m not a child anymore. Not your child. I don’t need you to swoop in and rescue me, because there’s nothing to rescue me from!”
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “You are not doing well, Dick.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
Jason scoffed.
“This,” Bruce waved a hand at their surroundings, “is not fine. I know–”
“No, you don’t know.”
“So tell him,” Jason interjected
“I do know,” Bruce grunted. “You think I haven’t been struggling too, Dick? You think it hasn’t been an uphill battle every day since he left us?” Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it, blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you. I’m sorry it took this long for me to reach out, to check in, but I–” Bruce choked on his words. “You shouldn't have to be dealing with this by yourself. You shouldn't be alone with this.”
Dick huffed. “I haven’t been alone.”
“There is a difference between being alone and being lonely.”
Bruce reached out to place his hands on Dick’s shoulders. Dick let him.
“Come back to the Manor, Dick. Come home.”
Slowly, Bruce brought Dick into a hug. Dick wrapped his arms around his torso, squeezing tight. When Dick blinked his eyes open after a moment, he saw Jason watching from the corner, biting his lip in consternation.
“Go home, Dickie,” he said, his voice small.
Dick faltered. A realization surfaced. If Bruce or Alfred or anyone realized that he was having these hallucinations, who knows what they would do? He wasn’t crazy. He didn’t think he was crazy. But what if they decided otherwise? What if they sent him away? What if –
“You have to get out.”
Bruce gaped at him. “Chum–”
“Get the fuck out of my apartment!”
“Dick, what are you–”
Bruce took a step backwards, and Dick shoved his hands against his chest.
“Get out!” Dick shouted. “Get out! Get out!”
Dick did not stop pushing him back until Bruce was outside of the apartment. Dick took one last look at him before slamming the door in his face. But the man kept insisting Dick open it again.
“Dick, let me in,” he pleaded.
Dick had never heard his dad sound so small. He leaned back against the door and collapsed in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging himself tightly. Dick buried his face in his arms as his body heaved out sobs.
< < <
In the interest of family unity, Dick had agreed to make an appearance as Richie Wayne at one of Bruce’s Charity Galas. The donation amounts were always higher when they presented themselves as a united front.
Also when Dick flirted with anyone holding their checkbook.
Older women pinched his cheeks and told him how handsome he had become, and that they remembered when he was ‘this big’, placing a hand out to show how small Dick had been when he first was taken in by Bruce. Dick would just play along, telling them how gorgeous they looked, playing it up in any way he could.
Jason was much less permissive. He hung back towards the edges of the room, eyes scouring the crowd with a scowling expression. Apparently Alfred and him had some kind of agreement. Every hour he was able to last at the gala was an extra hour he would be granted to stay out past curfew on patrol. A sweet deal. Dick had never gotten anything like that. But then again, Dick drank in the attention like the attendees drank overly expensive champagne.
He turned his attention back to the woman before him. Jane, her name was, he thought. Or was it Janet? Well, whatever her name was, she was speaking at a million miles an hour, talking Dick’s ear off with tails of her and her husband’s travels to Japan, then Egypt, Costa Rica, and so on. Dick nodded politely, adding in a ‘wow, fascinating’, every so often to feign any interest in this woman or her stories.
Dick glanced back at Jason, and caught the kid swiping the remaining sips of a discarded cocktail glass when he thought no one was looking. His jaw dropped.
“I know, right?” the woman said, interpreting his shock at his brother’s rebelliousness as interest in her story.
“I am so sorry, miss, but I have to handle something quickly. If you’ll excuse me,” he flashed his signature Richie Wayne smile at her, “but I’d love to continue this riveting conversation later.”
The woman blushed and waved him off.
Dick approached Jason to where he was skulking off in a corner. Jason must’ve not caught his brother’s line of sight, as he took a swig of another abandoned glass of whiskey. Dick balked, increasing his pace.
Then some young man stepped in his way.
“Richard!” he smiled wide, “it’s been a while! I don’t remember seeing you at graduation…”
His voice trailed off as Dick watched Jason smirk at him as he raised the glass to his lips again. Dick just blinked at him a few times. The little shit had seen him coming. Jason waved to him mockingly before disappearing onto the balcony. Dick attempted to follow him, but the guy stepped between them again.
“So what do you say?”
Dick’s brain buffered. “I’m sorry what?”
“I’m talking about a lucrative new business venture, Grayson.”
Dick narrowed his eyes. “I’ll pass.” He shoved passed the guy and headed out towards the balcony.
As he closed the door behind him, it was like he entered a different world. It was much quieter, for starters. You can say what you want about the man, but Bruce never skimped on the sound proofing. The boisterous jazz music of the gala was now just a faint hum in the background. Small fairy lights twinkled around the ivy-covered stone railing. Dick took a deep breath in. The cool night air was almost free from the signature Gotham smog. After all these years, he had never quite gotten used to it.
A faint clicking turned his attention over to Jason, who was holding a lighter up to the cigarette in his mouth.
“Hey,” Dick protested. “You know those are bad for you, right?”
Jason rolled his eyes, then pointed to the glass in Dick’s hand. “Call it picking your poison, I guess.”
Dick raised a brow. “This is non-alcoholic.”
Jason snickered. “You mean virgin?” He kept laughing at his own joke, and Dick just elbowed him in the side.
“Alright, alright, laugh it up, it’s not that funny.”
“Oh yeah,” Jason smirked, “not nearly as funny as you parading around in that clown suit.”
Dick gaped dramatically. “Blue suits are in style right now!”
“Not in that shade, they’re not. I can’t decide if this is worse than Disco-Wing or not.”
“You wound me, Jay.” A moment passed, then he spoke again. “Alright, is it time to get back in there?”
Jason scoffed. “Hell no.”
“C’mon Jay,” Dick groaned, “you can’t leave me in there all by myself.”
“You seem to do just fine,” Jason snarked. “I mean, you definitely learned from the best.”
Dick followed Jason’s eyeline to see Bruce schmoozing with a tight circle of Gotham’s most affluent. High-ranking City Officials, executives, top-billing lawyers, the like. Bruce threw his head back and laughed loudly at whatever one of them had said. Dick saw the slight lean of Bruce’s body. The man swayed a bit, despite only just standing there. Logically, Dick knew that Bruce never actually drank at Galas. He almost never drank at all, actually. Bruce was not one to dull his senses with anything, especially when an emergency necessitating the Batman could rear its head at any moment.
But that did not make the act any less convincing.
“He’s not really tipsy, Jay. You know that,” Dick murmured.
Jason said nothing, just continued to stare at his mentor.
Dick pursed his lips. “Why don’t you come join us? Instead of just sulking in the corner.”
Scoffing, Jay said, “I’m good, thanks.”
“C’mon, why not?” Dick bumped Jay in the shoulder, trying to lighten the mood, but the kid just scowled deeper.
“I’d rather talk to the wall than those rich assholes.”
Dick winced. “You don’t think you’re being a bit harsh?”
Jason said nothing. Just took a long puff of his cigarette, his expression dark.
“Go back inside, Dickie. You get to be the center of attention,” Jason growled. Then, so quietly Dick almost didn't catch it, he tacked on, “just like always.”
Dick furrowed his brows. “I’m not saying you have to enjoy being in there, it’s just… I don’t think it’s a good look.”
“Of course,” Jason rolled his eyes, “I forgot image was all you cared about.”
Dick’s expression soured. “That’s not–”
“Go back to your adoring fans, Dickie. They’re growing restless without their plaything.” Jason turned back around and took another inhale from his cigarette.
Dick hesitated. Part of him wanted to go back inside. He hated when Jason pushed his buttons like this. But Dick knew that Jason was used to hiding. For years, hiding was all that kept him alive on the streets of Gotham. And sometimes Jason still hid. Behind that domino mask and the confidence that came with it. Behind feigned indifference. Behind angry words and barred teeth.
So Dick held firm. He leaned on the railing beside his brother and intercepted his hardened gaze.
“Hey,” he said softly. “What’s really going on?”
Jason tightened his jaw. The look he shot Dick was unsure. But slowly, Dick saw him take down his shield.
“I just hate these damn parties so much,” Jason bit out. “These rich fucks have more money than they know what do with while kids all around Gotham are scrounging for newspapers for blankets. And they attend these things to pitch in what’s basically pocket change to them, all to make themselves feel better. To cross a box off the list. To be an image booster. A glorified PR stunt.”
“Is that what you think Bruce is doing?”
Jason looked taken aback. “What?”
“Is that what you think Bruce is doing? With all this,” Dick clarified. “Do you think it’s just a PR stunt for him?”
Swallowing, Jason broke the eye contact between him and Dick. “I mean,” the boy hesitated, his voice small and tentative. “Sometimes.”
Dick glanced back to where their father-figure was shmoozing with some random board-member from Wayne Enterprises. “Y’know, we always give B shit for how obvious his secret-identity seems, but we forget that Bruce Wayne is as much a mask as Batman.”
Jason blinked at him. “What?”
“It is all an act for him,” Dick mused, “but that doesn’t mean it’s fake. Look who he’s talking to.” Dick pointed at Bruce through the glass. “That’s Sandra McConnell, her wife is on the charity-wing of WE’s board, and she’s also the CEO of the largest real estate company in Gotham. And he’s introducing her to Alex Schneider, he’s part of the Mayoral Elect’s transition team, specializing in helping increase affordable housing.”
Dick elbowed Jason and smiled. “I can bet you that before the week is out, Bruce will be announcing he’s co-funding the building of a new apartment complex with the rent frozen at a price Gothamites can actually afford.”
Jason gave Dick a sideways glance. He could tell the kid still didn’t believe him.
“C’mon, Jay, you know Bruce wouldn't run around in that stupid costume every night if he didn’t genuinely care about Gotham.”
“I know he cares about Gotham, but–” Jason choked off the end of this sentence.
Dick frowned, then placed a hand on Jay’s shoulder as he saw tears glistening in his brother’s eyes. Despite him not finishing, Dick knew what words laid unsaid.
“Jason,” he said evenly. “You know Bruce cares about you. He loves you so much.” He tugged Jason into a tight hug. “We all do, little wing.”
After a few moments, Jason’s hands pushed away from his brother, but Dick still held him firmly.
“Alright, alright, I get it,” Jason squeaked out. “Now let me go before I suffocate, you big octopus.”
Dick smirked before he let go, messing up Jason’s hair.
“Hey!” the kid protested, “it took Alfred an hour to tame these curls.”
Dick just laughed in response. Through the glass he saw Bruce watching them, a small smile on his lips.