Chapter Text
It wasn’t the constant vibrations from his phone that woke Bruce. No, his subconsciousness was all too familiar with that to catalogue it as urgent. Then there was also the vibration of a purring mass of fur from where Pumpkin, Selina’s large orange tabby was curled on his bare ribs. That too, was much too familiar an occurrence. No, it was Selina herself shaking him by the shoulder that did the job.
“Bruce, wake up.” The urgency in her voice was enough to dispel any and all drowsiness.
That was when Bruce realised his mistake. His phone was buzzing on the bedside table not only with the tone of calls and texts, but also of the specific alerts he’d set up to monitor online discourse.
He sat up immediately, hand reaching for his phone, dislodging Pumpkin from her perch on his chest. She let out a disgruntled meow before tucking herself between him and Selina.
Bruce’s stomach dropped as his phone screen flickered on, filled edge to edge with missed calls, texts and alerts. It started ringing in his hand with simultaneous calls from Lucius and Tim.
“Lois published an article this morning,” Selina’s voice was grave as she pulled out her own phone. “Dick gave her an interview.”
Bruce’s gut pooled with dread even as he asked, “About?”
Pumpkin made a low mrrow from between them, clearly picking up on their distress. Bruce scratched behind her ears as Selina took a breath, steeling herself.
“He addressed all the speculation over his disappearance from Gotham a few years ago,” Selina said, pushing her mussed hair out of her eyes. “He came clean Bruce. They know about the abuse.”
Bruce kept absently stroking Pumpkin’s head, the softness of her fur being the only thing his body was registering now.
Selina turned her phone around, showing him the article from The Daily Planet.
Bruce stared at the recent photo of Dick, dressed in a dark button-down and slacks, sitting in natural light at a Metropolis café, looking directly at the camera with a calm, steady expression. No smile, but no hostility either.
The air left his lungs as he read the headline.
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF RICHARD GRAYSON: A CONVERSATION ABOUT LEAVING AND FINDING HOME
Bruce Wayne’s first ward speaks candidly about why he left Gotham, what he found in Metropolis, and why he won’t return
By Lois Lane
Senior Investigative Reporter, The Daily Planet
Before he could stop himself, Bruce had taken the phone from Selina, eyes skimming over the article. His own lay forgotten beside him, still ringing.
Bruce read in fragments.
“From the day I arrived at Wayne Manor I became his confidant. His emotional support. I was eight years old, and I was helping him process the murder of his parents. I didn’t understand that wasn’t normal. I thought that’s what family was.”
Confidant. Emotional support.
“The self-defence training was always intense. But when I became an adult and started making my own choices, when I tried to establish boundaries, that’s when it crossed a line. The physical abuse was his way of maintaining control.”
Training. Physical abuse. Maintaining control.
"My mother spoke Romani to me every day. Within a year of living at Wayne Manor, I'd stopped speaking it entirely. No one told me not to—the erasure was quieter than that. Gotham high society had opinions about Romani people. Bruce never contradicted those opinions. I learned my heritage was something to hide."
Cultural erasure. Bruce winced.
“I loved him. Part of me still does. But I had to choose myself. I had to choose survival. And I had to make sure my siblings were safe.”
Some part of Dick still loved him.
“I want to be clear: my brothers and sisters are safe. Bruce’s issues were with me specifically. They’re adults now, living their own lives. This is about my experience, not theirs.
He’d made sure his siblings would be safe from Bruce, hadn’t he?
"I know what it's like to be afraid to speak up. To think no one will believe you because the person who hurt you is too powerful, too respected, too beloved. I stayed silent for years because Bruce Wayne is untouchable in Gotham. But silence protects abusers. If my story helps even one person realize they're not alone—that they can leave, that they can speak up—then it's worth it."
Untouchable. But silence protects abusers. An abuser. That was what he was.
“People have been asking where I’ve been. There’s been speculation, rumours. I owed it to myself to tell the truth. I’m not trying to destroy anyone. I’m just done hiding.”
“I’m in therapy. I’m with people who love me in healthy ways. I’m learning what that looks like. I’m going to be okay.”
The phone slipped out of Bruce’s hand as a sense of numbness came over him. Pumpkin chirped, bumping her head against his other hand. Bruce resumed stroking her as he picked up his own phone and dialled Lucius.
“Dick—he told them everything,” he said out loud, only to realise Selina wasn’t even in the room any longer.
Lucius answered on the first ring. “Bruce, where are you?”
“I—I’m at Selina’s,” Bruce answered, his voice hoarse. “I just saw.”
Lucius sighed. “Listen, Bruce. I’ve got the board on one line and our legal team on another. Wayne Enterprises stock dropped 8% in the first hour. But before any of that—before we talk statements or damage control—I need to ask you something directly.”
“Lucius—”
“Is it true?”
Bruce remained silent.
“Bruce, I need to know.” Lucius’s tone was insistent. “Because if we’re going to respond to this, I need to know what we’re responding to. I need to know if we’re defending you against false allegations or if we’re doing damage control on the truth. So I’m asking you again: is it true?
“Yes.”
There was a pause.
“All of it?”
“Yes,” Bruce said more intently this time. He had been learning to own his mistakes in therapy. It was time it seemed.
The pause was longer this time and there was a heavy exhale.
“Oh, Bruce.”
“Lucius, the board—”
“The board can wait. Bruce, that boy—I watched him grow up. I watched him come to Wayne Enterprises events as a child. Always so polite, so careful. So desperate for your attention. That boy needed a father and you—” he stopped himself, despite being on a secure line.
Pumpkin jumped off the bed, apparently having had enough of Bruce. He sighed and rubbed a hand across his face.
“I didn’t know how to be a father, Lucius.” I still don’t.
“That’s not an excuse that’s going to satisfy anyone, Bruce. Not the public. Not the board and certainly not Dick.”
A mirthless chuckle left Bruce. “You assume Dick wants to talk to me. He hasn’t spoken to me in eight months.”
"I see.” There was a pause. “Well, the legal team is going to want to minimize this. The board is going to push for a strong denial or at least a 'no comment.' But Bruce—I need to know what you want to do. This is your personal life. Your family. I can advise on the business implications, but I can't tell you how to handle this. What do you want me to tell the board?"
"I—I don't know."
"Then let me give you the scenarios. Option one: We deny it. Call it a mischaracterization, say Dick's memory is clouded by time and emotion, suggest the relationship was more complicated than he's presenting. The board would prefer this. It protects the company. But Bruce—it would also destroy whatever relationship you might still want with Dick. And it would make you a liar. Option two: We stay silent. 'No comment on family matters.' This is the safest corporate play. Lets it blow over. But it leaves Dick's story as the only narrative. People will assume silence is admission. Option three: You confirm it. You take responsibility. You acknowledge you failed him. This is the most honest approach and also the most damaging to the company. And Bruce—I want to be clear—I'm not telling you which to choose. I'm telling you the consequences of each choice. You decide. I'll execute whatever you decide. But you need to decide soon. The longer we wait, the worse this gets."
"What would you do? If it were your son?"
Lucius stayed silent for a beat.
"...I'd tell the truth. But Bruce, that's not advice as your CEO. That's advice as someone who's known you for thirty years. As your CEO, I have to tell you the truth is expensive. Could cost us major contracts. Could lose board support. Could impact the foundation. As your friend—and yes, I consider us friends—I'd say some things matter more than money. But the choice has to be yours. I can't make it for you. What do you want to do?"
"I won't call him a liar."
"Alright. That rules out option one. That leaves silence or admission. Which one?"
"I don't know."
"Then take an hour. Think about it. But you need to understand something. Whatever you choose, you're choosing who you are. The man who protects the company, or the man who protects the truth. The man who failed Dick, or the man who fails him again. I can work with either choice from a business perspective. But I can't tell you which one you can live with. That's your decision. Call me back in an hour with your answer. I'll handle the board until then."
"Lucius—"
"One hour, Bruce. Then I need an answer. And Bruce? I hope you choose well. For your sake. And for your boy's.”
Bruce didn’t bother correcting Lucius. Dick was hardly his boy anymore. He was Clark’s.
Bruce spent the rest of the day in his study at the Manor, fielding calls from Lucius, Tim, his publicists and several board members, and dodging ones from journalists, reporters and media personnel in general.
By the end of the day, the calls had stopped. Either everyone had given up, or they’d gotten their answer. Alfred for his part, was ignoring him entirely apart from bringing him his meals.
Bruce absently scrolled through his social media on his desktop. Gotham was eating itself alive online, half defending Bruce as a philanthropist who’d made mistakes, half calling for criminal charges.
@GothamGossip: BREAKING: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s eldest adoptive son, claims years of abuse in exclusive The Daily Planet interview. Wayne has not yet responded. Full story at—
@SocialJusticeNow: We’ve been saying for YEARS that billionaires shouldn’t be allowed to adopt vulnerable children without oversight. This is why. #BelieveSurvivors
@WayneEnterprisesWatch: $WE stock down 12% and falling. Board meeting called for emergency session. This is a disaster.
@BrucieFanGirl: I don’t want to believe this, but Dick Grayson has never lied. Never. If he says it happened… fuck.
@GothamMom: I KNEW something was wrong with that family. All those kids, all those “wards,” and now one of them finally speaks out? There’s probably so much more we don’t know.
That was the worst part, wasn’t it? There was more. Dick had spoken in general. Hadn’t documented every instance of abuse. And that wasn’t even accounting for the ways he’d hurt Jason, Cass, Steph and Tim.
Bruce exhaled deeply and powered off the computer. He couldn’t get respite though, being immediately faced with the dozens of tabloid and newspaper headlines Alfred had silently left spread out across the rest of his desk.
GOTHAM GAZETTE: "WAYNE'S GOLDEN BOY BREAKS SILENCE: 'HE USED ME'"
GOTHAM GLOBE: "DICK GRAYSON EXCLUSIVE: YEARS OF ABUSE BEHIND MANOR DOORS"
THE DAILY STAR: "BRUCE WAYNE: PHILANTHROPIST OR PREDATOR?"
THE NEW YORK TIMES: "Former Wayne Ward Alleges Emotional Abuse, Physical Violence"
THE WASHINGTON POST: "Richard Grayson Breaks Decades of Silence on Life at Wayne Manor"
METROPOLIS DAILY: "Grayson to Planet: 'I Had to Choose Survival Over Loyalty'"
GOTHAM TRIBUNE: "Wayne Enterprises Stock Plummets as Abuse Allegations Surface"
USA TODAY: "Bruce Wayne Silent as Former Ward Details 'Years of Neglect'"
Bruce sighed again and buried his face in his hands. He was never going to hear the end of this, was he? Even before the public backlash, the guilt was going to haunt him till the end of his days anyway.
Might as well indulge in what he did best. He picked up his phone from the desk and pulled up the article to wallow in self-pity. He’d almost memorised the lines by this time, with the number of times he’d read the article in full.
The picture of Dick loaded first, hitting Bruce’s heart with a fresh stab of guilt and sorrow. And yet something bittersweet rose within him. Dick looked healthier than when Bruce had seen him right after his return from Spyral. The hollows under his cheeks had filled out and the bags under his eyes had disappeared. His hair was fuller and longer. The sparkle in his eyes was back—something Bruce hadn’t seen since Dick had first moved out of the Manor.
It killed him to not be able to see that sparkle in person. He wondered if he’d ever have the opportunity to see it again.
“Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson sits across from me in a quiet Metropolis café, far from the Gotham spotlight that’s followed him since childhood. He’s 28 now, though he looks younger—or perhaps he’s simply finally allowed to look his age, freed from burdens no child should carry.
“For years, Gotham society has whispered about his absence. Where is Bruce Wayne’s golden boy, the first of the infamous Wayne orphans? Today, Grayson has agreed to answer that question.
“What follows is not a tale of sensational accusations or tabloid drama. It is the careful, measured testimony of a man who has done the hard work of therapy, who has chosen to speak not out of vengeance but out of a desire for truth.”
Bruce mouthed the words as he read them, all but having memorised them at this point. He read on until he reached the end of the article, pausing for sips of water in between.
“‘I don’t hate him,’ Grayson tells me, and the compassion in his voice is perhaps the most damning thing of all. ‘I’m angry, yes. But mostly I’m sad. Sad for the child I was, sad for the man he couldn’t be. Sad that it took me twenty years to understand what had happened to me.’”