Chapter Text
The gun is still smoking when Dick Greyson realizes he's made a grave mistake.
The two bodies were cooling on the floor, blood seeping out from their fatal gunshot wounds into the pristine white carpet, and a clean up crew had already been called preemptively to make the mess disappear.
It had been textbook.
But Dick had overlooked one thing.
He didn't know the Drakes had a kid.
Nothing in the family's files had indicated they had a child. Much less one as young as the one standing in the doorway.
It's too late to hide their bodies. The kid's seen it all. He stands there barefoot, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, looking fresh out of bed.
His eyes are wide as he stares down at his dead parents with a slacked jaw.
Dick's seen that look before. He had that look when his own parents died. It's not something he wished on any child.
Had he known a kid was likely to waltz in, he would've been a lot more merciful and would have simply broken his parents' kneecaps or something. Or, he would've dragged them to a new location.
But Dick can't unshoot the bullets in their heads. It's just him, the kid, and the two bodies now.
What a clusterfuck.
He immediately slips his gun behind him, into his waistband and out of sight as he smiles sweetly at the boy.
A child who not only witnessed him shooting his parents, but also has seen Dick's face.
This can't get more of a mess.
“Hey there kiddo, sorry about the noise. Did I wake you up?” He asks sweetly, stepping over the worthless bodies of the Drakes. The kid is shaking as Dick approaches. He has to bite back making a comforting noise in his throat.
He doubts the kid wants his parents' murderer to be the one comforting him.
“Do you have somebody to look after you?” Dick reaches out to tuck a black strand behind the boy's ear and the kid flinches. His hand stills, but he doesn't withdraw it.
The kid is still shaking, but he isn't running away. He's either really brave or really afraid. Either way, he shouldn’t stay here. Dick slips his hand to the boy's shoulder, steering him into the hall. “Come on now, kids aren't supposed to see stuff like that.” He closes the office door with a small ‘click.’
His blue eyes trail down to the young kid.
Now the question remains… what to do with him. Nobody has ever seen Dick commit a crime. Bruce would have his head if he was so green around the ears that he left witnesses alive. But this is a kid. Dick can't hurt a kid.
He needs more information.
“What's your name kiddo?” He asks, keeping his hand firm on the boy's shoulder, leading him down the hall. He applies just enough pressure that lets the boy know he can't run away.
Not without Dick catching him.
“M-my name?” The boy repeats. Dick gives him enough time to gain his thoughts, without repeating the question. “It’s Alvin– Alvin Draper.”
Oh, Dick highly doubts that. But that's okay. Dick can let the kid pretend that he's fallen for his ruse. It's beneficial to reward kids for good behavior after all. And it's smart of him not to give up his real name.
“Well– Alvin–” The fake name tastes bittersweet on his tongue. “I'm sorry you had to see that. Had I known you were there, I would have come another day.”
“Are you going to kill me?” His voice dips down in a whisper. And it makes Dick's heart freeze a beat.
“No!” It comes out harsher than he expects and he quickly backtracks into speaking softer, “No. We don't kill kids.”
“So you're going to let me go?” Dick hates how hopeful the child's voice sounds.
His grin softens. “I didn't say that.”
The boy trembles at his words and Dick sighs. There's no good way to say this. “Look Alvin, you seem like a smart kid. So I'm going to be frank with you. Can you be a big kid and handle that?” He waits for the child to nod before he continues, “There is the question…of what to do with you. You've seen something you shouldn't Alvin and it's not something I can ignore.”
“I won't tell. I promise!” The boy quickly cries.
“Oh honey, of course, you wouldn't.” Dick quickly agrees, crouching down so they're eye to eye. “But– that still leaves a lot of problems. After all, do you have any other adults you can live with?”
The boy's nose scrunches up. “Mama said that big boys don't need babysitters. I'm not a baby!”
It's a real shame Dick shot the Drakes. Because he has the undeniable urge to go back and shoot them again.
He didn't make them suffer enough.
“You're not a baby, no.” Dick's smile vanishes. “But you have to be like six–”
“I'm seven!”
He's at the age where that one year makes a big difference, huh?
“Seven,” Dick corrects himself gently. “But that's still an age where you need an adult to watch over you.”
“No it isnt–”
“Yes it is, and you won't argue with me on this.” Dick says firmly. “Kids aren't meant to watch themselves, you should be worrying about other things, like what cartoons you want to watch or if you can sneak sweets from the kitchen.”
“Where are you– Are you going to put me into foster care?”
“Didn't you hear me, little one?” His hand let's go of the boy's shoulder and his eyes gleam. “I told you I'm not letting you go.”
Even if he did, he wouldn't send him to the system. Gotham foster care is notoriously bad and sometimes even dips it's hand into human trafficking. He's not sending any kid there if he can help it.
There’s probably some member of the family that can take him.
Not Dick though.
He doubts that this child would want his parent’s murderer as his guardian. Which suits Dick fine. He doesn’t live the sort of life where you can afford to have attachments. He’s fine never having a child. He’s made his bed with that a long time ago.
“No I guess you'll have to come with me,” Dick says, raising from his knees.
The boy's eyes widen and he pales as he looks up at Dick. He speaks in a quiet voice, “What?”
“Come on now, I'm not going to leave you here alone.” Dick smiles, already making up his mind.
He’s coming home with Dick until he can find a placement. Bruce was going to burst a vein with this one. He'll have to warn Jason so his brother can get the camera ready.
Dick squeezes the boy's shoulder again. “Now let's go pack your bag. Show me to your room.”
The boy trembles under hand but keeps moving. How brave. You know, if Dick hadn't already killed his parents, he would've thought of taking him.
He's got black hair and blue eyes. That's not a usual pairing of traits in Gotham. He already looks like Dick's kid.
Not keeping him. Dick thinks to himself with a deep inhale that causes the kid to flinch. This is just temporary.
Until Dick can find someone in the family to take him under their wing.
They arrive in a guest bedroom.
Or at least it's what Dick assumes is a guest bedroom until Alvin goes over to the wardrobe and starts to shakily pull out clothes and pajamas, placing them in a backpack he pulls out from under the dresser drawers.
“Did you just move here?” Dick asks looking at the bare walls and lackluster furniture.
Not-Alvin scrunches up his nose. “No, what are you talking about?”
His heart sinks. “Is this…everything you own?” He gestures to the clothes. “Don’t you have any toys?”
“Of course I don’t have toys,” Not-Alivn sniffs. “I can entertain myself.”
That is the saddest thing that Dick’s heard. (And he’s an orphan.) He resists the urge to clench at his heart with his hand and instead takes a deep, even, calm breath. “Oh right. Silly me. What do you do to entertain yourself?”
His little hands deftly fold his clothes as if they were used to the motions. “Mostly make up stories.”
“About what? I love stories.” Dick encourages, leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms.
The boy grows quiet. Which is fair. Dick doesn’t expect him to open up to a stranger who just shot his parents. But, when they get him into a new home. One not with Dick and with somebody who would actually take him in. Then maybe he’ll open up to his new family some more.
After he’s bought tons of toys.
Because this scarcity of possessions couldn’t stand.
Dick wouldn’t let it.
Once the Drake kid is done packing, Dick gently places his hand on his shoulder and starts to steer him out of the room. However, before they reach the door the boy stills.
“What is it?” He asks gently.
Not-Alvin bites his lip and grips the bottom of his shirt nervously. “Can I– Can I bring my camera? I promise I won’t take any pictures–”
Dick stops him gently, kneeling down and smiling softly. “Hey, it’s okay. You like photography?”
Not-Alvin nods.
This is something that Dick can work with. He nods again and tells him, “Go fetch it.”
The kid visibly hesitates. His eyes flicker to his bed and then back at Dick, as if wondering if he’s playing into some trick. Even if he was, there is nothing he can do about it, and that conclusion seems to reach Not-Alvin. His eyes dull and Dick knows that the boy knows there’s no way out of this. The kid trudges over to the mattress and reaches under it.
He pulls out a camera bag.
Dick motions him back over. “Let’s see what you got.”
The camera must be important. The poor kid’s hands shake when he places the item in Dick’s hands as if it’s a precious commodity.
The assassin hums lightly as he opens up the bag. It’s a nice piece of equipment. Expensive. He lifts it gently out of the case and the boy flinches as he does so.
“Easy now,” Dick warns as he flips the camera over and opens up the inner casing.
“What are you–”
“I can’t have you taking pictures while we travel, sorry.” Dick says as he extracts the SD Card. The boy’s eyes follow it as Dick slides it in his chest pocket. Too bad the batteries are rechargeable, Dick would have loved to take the battery out too. But he doesn’t want to damage the camera. “You can have it back if you’re good, okay?”
The boy’s determined eyes never leave his pocket as he nods. There’s no doubt in Dick’s mind that he would stab Dick at the first possible moment if it meant he could have that SD card back.
What could possibly be on that camera drive? Could it just be random pictures that the Not-Alvin is proud of taking? Or could it be something else?
Either way, Dick would find out eventually.
He leads them both towards the front door where their chauffeur is waiting.
Alfred merely raises an eyebrow at Dick as he sees the young tagalong. But his eyes are troubled. He hadn't been aware that the Drake’s had a child here either. “Run into a spot of trouble, did we?”
“Not trouble,” Dick smiles something sharp. “Just something unexpected.”
“I’m guessing you’ll inform your father of this yourself?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Not-Alvin fidgets under his hand as he listens to them speak. Worse, he starts trembling. It tugs at Dick’s heartstrings more than he cares to say. “Can you pass over my bag? Penny-One?”
The thick leather black medicine bag that Alfred brings over is meant to look intimidating. Dick usually brings it out during interrogations. But now Dick winces at how scary he looks. The last thing he wants is to traumatize Not-Alvin more. “Alright, listen kid, I really wish I could just blind fold you and be done with it. But that’s not gonna work right now, because you’re too smart and I don’t expect you to not try and count turns.”
Not-Alvin freezes.
Dick’s arm tightens on him. His other hand brings out a cloth and a small vial of pharmaceuticals.
“Is that chloroform?” The boy asks shakily.
“What– no?” Dick blinks surprised. “First of all, Chlorform doesn’t actually work fast enough or long enough for what I need. Plus it’s got all sorts health issues. I don’t actually want to do damage to you. Also, it takes forever, and I don’t want you to struggle.”
He pulls out a bottle of soda and pops the top with the cloth before pouring the vial in. “Drink this. It induces a partial amnesia so you can’t remember the next few hours.” He looks up to see the boy looking at him suspiciously. “What? If I was gonna lie I would say it didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t have a choice do I?” His voice is so small and scared. It make Dick feel like the scum of the earth. More so than shooting his parents.
“You don’t. Sorry.” It surprises Dick that he means it. That he hates this is the best option. But the last thing he needs is this kid figuring out where their base is. Or the way to escape it.
Not-Alvin puts on a brave face and shakily takes the can of soda.
He tilts it back and drains every drop.