#from bad kid to bad Robin to bad son to bad memory to worst mistake

[solipop]

it will never fail to surprise me how much depth Jason Todd gets by fans in comparison to his actual story, it's all so painfully implicit

No but truly one thing we don’t talk about enough in regard to Jason is the embarrassment of it all. Part of why Jason reacted so strongly to not being avenged is because he really and truly believed in Bruce and thought the world of him and to be let down like that is embarrassing. To die like that is humiliating, to once again be forced to survive on the streets is humiliating, to have to live as a shell of yourself for years is humiliating, and then getting your mind back only to immediately be presented with evidence that your death didn’t change anything is the biggest humiliation of them all. Jason really thought that his death would be enough to change Bruce. That Bruce would choose him over his moral code. To be proven wrong about that is deeply deeply embarrassing

[mischiefandspirits]

Last Laugh (1 of 3)

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

The story of how Dick ended up with the Titans in Batkid and Robin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Richard?”

…

“Richard, may I come in?”

…

“If you do not want me to come in then you need to tell me.”

…

“I’m coming in.”

Light filled the room for a moment then disappeared. The bed shifted and a hand settled on Dick’s back.

…

“Barbara told me what happened.”

Heat. A ringing in his ears. “BATKID!” “Red Wing, please!” Digging. Bodies. “No. Jason.” A mother and son… or a pair of acrobats… Blood. Footprints leading to tire tracks. “My son, I’m so sor-Robin? Robin, get back here!”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“Why can’t I come with you and Jon?” “You’re not quite ready for a space mission yet, Richard. I’ve talked to Father, though. He said you could patrol with him and Jason until I return so long as you two don’t get into too much trouble.” “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick said, his voice hoarse.

“Imagine how mad he’ll be if I’ve clipped the wings of a baby bat and a baby bird on the same day!” Zap! “Haha! Aw Jeez, I hit Batkid harder than that!” “Shut up!” “So,” a groan, “the first Demon Child taught you a,” a hiss, “a few tricks, hahaha!” “I said shut! Up!” “Hahahaha!” “ROBIN!” “B?” “He’s had enough.” “He killed -” “I know. I… I know.” “Don’t worry, Boy Blunder, you’ll join him soon enough!” “What are you talking ab-” “Robin! Move now!” An explosion.

“I killed him.”

The hand started rubbing circles into Dick’s back. “That’s not true.”

“If I hadn’t attacked him like that, if I hadn't beaten him as bad as I did, he would have made it out.”

“He was the one who set off the explosion, Richard. That’s not on you.” The hand shifted up to Dick’s shoulder and tugged him closer to the warm presence next to him.

He pressed his face into the warmth as another hand came up to card through his hair. “B thinks it’s my fault.”

“Father doesn't think anything right now. He’s still processing his grief. We all are. You are not at fault for what happened. If Joker is dead -- and his body still hasn’t been found so we don’t even know if he is finally gone -- then it is no one's fault but his own.”

Dick shook his head. “I shouldn’t’ve attacked him.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “No, you should not have. It was extremely reckless and we… You could have gotten yourself killed. You are extremely lucky Joker had not expected you to be with Father so you were able to catch him off guard. Impulsive behavior… It’s already taken Jason, you can’t let it take you too.”

Dick’s fingers dug into his calves from where his arms were wrapped around his legs.

“I found my mom.” “Batkid? B said -” “It’s okay. She said Joker isn’t here. It’s safe. We’re going to talk inside so no one sees us.” “But -” “I can talk her around, Red Bird. I know I can. Please, don’t tell B. She’s my mom.” “O-okay. Just be careful.” “It’ll be fine. She said he won’t be back for hours.”

She lied.

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I-That’s not what I mea-”

“Yes, it was.”

Another sigh. The warmth moved away so the hand in his hair could come down to cup his cheek. It brushed away his tears and tilted his head up, but he didn’t look at the face hovering over him. “Richard -”

“I wanna be alone now. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m tired.”

There was a beat, then the hands and warmth and face moved away. “Alright. Get some rest. I have to go talk to Father. If… I am here if you need anything.”

Dick nodded and laid down with his back to the warmth.

The light came and went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they returned from Ethiopia, Bruce told Dick he’d be benched for a month. It was partly to give his injuries from the fight with Joker time to heal and partly as punishment for running off to said fight. Damian had agreed when he arrived back on Earth a week later and Dick accepted the punishment without complaint.

By the end, though, he was itching to get out of the manor. He hated being trapped in one place for too long. With the media going crazy over Jason’s death, Bruce had managed to arrange for him to finish the last few weeks of school from home and Damian decided they would remain at the manor instead of heading back to their house in Somerset. It was a longer commute to work and patrol for Damian and meant Dick couldn’t run around the neighborhood to visit with his friends, but it was also more secure against paparazzi.

Dick wouldn’t complain since he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t stop him from feeling trapped.

On the day he was meant to go back on patrol, he was skipping through the halls in anticipation of stretching his wings and releasing the tension that had built up under his grief and guilt. He went looking for Damian once he got home to see if he wanted to spar before dinner. When he couldn’t find him in his room or studio, he went to see if Alfred, Bruce, or Selina knew where he was.

“- for a month. I think that’s a fair amount of time.”

Dick perked up when he heard Damian’s voice and ran up to the door to Bruce’s study.

“I don’t mean he should stay on the bench. I meant Robin should be taken off the roster altogether.”

He froze, hand inches from the doorknob.

“I know he shouldn’t have gone after Joker -”

“It’s not just that. Dick… He never should have been brought into this life. He’s not like us and he was too young.”

“I was younger than him when I started out as Batkid,” Damian snapped.

“You were raised by assassins. He had a normal life before you involved him. He deserves a normal life. I know you wanted to help him, but this isn’t the way.”

Bruce was angry. Dick had known that. He didn’t think Bruce would take Robin away from him though. Robin was… his purpose. His place in the family. Without Robin, he didn’t have any reason to be there. And if he wasn’t there…

“Heard Wayne’s taking Grayson.” “Really? Knew his old man liked strays, but I thought he stuck to animals. Why’s he coming for the kid?” “To honor Brucie’s memory? Hell if I know.” “Well, whatever reason, I hope the kid can behave.” “Yeah. Lord knows Wayne hates people at the best of times, can’t imagine how he’ll take to having a brat running around.” “He’d probably return the kid the first time he acts up. Doubt the poor ***** will get another chance too.”

No, Dick couldn’t lose Robin. But Dick was Damain’s partner and Damian wouldn’t let Bruce do that, right? Right?

Why wasn’t Damian saying anything?

“This is what Richard needs,” Damian finally said after a few moments, but the happiness at his words was overshadowed by the ice sliding down Dick’s spine from how calm Damian sounded.

Why wasn’t he mad anymore?

Was… Was he starting to think Bruce was right?

“No, it isn’t,” Bruce said.

“How is he any different than the rest of us?” Damian asked, voice still calm.

“You were raised by assassins. As was Cass. Duke was in a gang. Tim raised himself in that damn empty mansion and spent years trailing after us through Gotham’s streets with nothing but a camera. And Jason lived on those streets.”

Tearing up, Dick wrapped his arms around himself. He knew he wasn’t as smart or skilled as the others, but he’d thought…

“Dick might not have had a typical childhood, but he had a happy one. He grew up with an entirely different mentality than us. You saw how he looked when he went after Joker.”

Dick flinched. He remembered the rage that had flooded through him. He knew he shouldn’t have gone after Joker. That it was stupid and reckless and wrong. Not justified vengeance, just plain old revenge. The very thing Damian had tried to instill against when he’d started out.

But at the time all he could think was that Jason was dead, had been murdered like his parents, and his family kept dying around him and Joker was to blame. He hadn’t meant to go as far as he did, he hadn’t meant for Joker to die!

He just wanted everyone to be safe.

The worst thing, though, was that as much as he wasn’t proud of how he’d run off and put himself in danger, as terrified as he was that he had killed someone, he didn't regret what he’d done to Joker.

“He doesn’t belong in this life, Damian.”

Dick froze. No. No! Losing Robin was one thing, but to not belong…

“I understand.”

Dick staggered back, hand coming to his mouth as the tears fell. He quickly ran back the way he’d come before the sobs could start.

They couldn’t… They couldn’t!

It was one mistake! It was a bad one, but he knew the others had had bad mistakes too. They couldn’t get rid of him for that, right?

Except the others were Bruce’s sons, and he was just Damian’s foster kid. He thought it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t really family on paper, but maybe it did.

“You’re not getting a family, circus freak.” “Yeah, foster kids ain’t family. They’re just a paycheck.” “Or some rich bastard’s charity case.” “Either way, no one actually cares about them even if they have to pretend to. And no one would care about someone like you.”

Dick barely stopped himself from slamming the door behind him as he staggered into a closet. He dropped to the floor, pressing his knees into his eyes.

He couldn’t go back to juvie. Losing Robin would be torture, but going back to that hellhouse would kill him. Maybe even literally.

He technically wasn’t as defenseless as he was last time. He was sure he’d probably be able to take anyone that tried to hurt him if he tried, but he wouldn’t be able to try. He wouldn’t be Robin going in. He’d be Dick Grayson, former foster son of Damian Wayne. He couldn’t use any of the skills he’d gained as Robin without risking his identity -- former identity -- and the identities of the rest of the Bats by extension. And he would never do that, even if they did return him.

No, he couldn’t go back to juvie, but where else could he go. It’d been made pretty clear both when he got there and when he left that there was nowhere else he’d be sent. Maybe Babs or Cass would take him? Or maybe they could talk Damian around? Duke, Steph, Tim, and Selina would help, right?

Unless they thought Bruce and Damian were right.

“I understand.”

No, they would talk them around. They had to.

Except Bruce and Damian -- like the rest of the family -- were stubborn. Would the others be able to talk them around before they shipped him off?

Maybe if he could buy them time…

He couldn’t go back to juvie.

Dick scrubbed his eyes and got up to slip out of the closet.

His first stop was the cave. He couldn’t grab his normal suit without anyone noticing, but the updated version had just finished testing and hadn’t yet been equipped with trackers. He stuck it into a lockbox alongside some gear.

Then he was up in his room. He stuck the box into a duffle bag with his travel toiletries.

Before he could grab anything else, there was a knock on his door.

He quietly zipped up the bag and knocked it under the bed as he called, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Richard. Can we talk?”

Dick dropped onto the bed. “Yeah, sure.”

Damian came in with a plate of cookies.

Dick grabbed one, but didn’t press up against his guardian like he normally would.

“You already know why I’m here,” Damian sighed.

“I overheard you talking with Bruce. You’re…” He clenched his fingers around the cookie as he looked up at Damian. “Don’t do this, please. I can be better. I-I won’t do anything like this again, I swear! Please, you can’t! We’re a team. We’re partners! You said so yourself! You cant… you can’t just toss that aside! Toss me aside!”

“It’s not like that, Richard,” Damian said, setting down the plate.

“Then what is it like!” Dick snapped and jumped to his feet, placing them eye-to-eye.

“This life isn’t good for you,” the young man said, meeting his gaze. “Bringing you into it, it was a terrible error in judgment. Father is right. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just doing what’s best for you.”

“It’s not like you forced me into it! I chose this! I want this!”

“You could have been killed, Dick!” Damian said, voice growing louder.

“I’m sorry! I let my emotions get the best of me! But it won’t happen again!”

“It’s over, Dick!”

“No! You can’t do this! I-I won’t let you! You can’t se-”

“Enough!” Damian shouted, then pressed a hand over his face. In a calmer voice, he said, “I’ve made my decision.”

“Dami, please!” Dick felt tears pricking at his eyes as Damian stood up and turned to leave.

“You’re going to stay here until after the funeral next week. We can talk more about what happens after once you’ve calmed down.”

“You can’t do this to me!”

“You’re better off this way.”

“Wayne is going to be the best chance you’re going to get, kiddo. The only good chance, honestly. I really hope this works out for you.”

“I hate you.”

Damian hesitated by the door, then shut it behind him.

Dick couldn’t go back to juvie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lines quoted or rewritten:

"Imagine how mad he'll be if I've whacked two Boy Wonders on the same day!" - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6

"Aw... Jeez... I hit Jason a lot harder than that." - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6

"Bruce... You... You can't! We're a team. We're partners! You said so yourself!" - Dick ~ Robin: Year One #3

"This was all a terrible error in judgment. Gordon was right." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3

"It’s over, Dick! You’re better off this way." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3

[douvle-eh]

these are the days it never rains (but it pours)

these are the days it never rains (but it pours)

Summary: Jason stays at the manor after an injury and learns a few things about Dick and maybe offer some comfort. Just Jason trying to be a good brother. Gen.

An: I love a good dad Bruce as much as the next guy but sometimes I also like to indulge in bad dad Bruce so….here you go. If you don’t like abusive Bruce (mentioned only) please don’t read this. Also don’t expect this to make any sense. My writing process works like this - I have random dialogue that pop in my head and at times it’s hard to make sense of what I’m trying to get thru but I just build the sentences around those dialogues.

 -----

It’s raining.

Jason watches as the rain blurs the view from the huge window. A flash of lightning races by, thunder comes a few seconds later indicating that the storm is passing, though knowing Gotham the rain would be staying with them for another week before it clears up to its usual smog.

He lets out a sigh. It’s bad enough that he got hurt in a routine patrol; it was worst that the bat brats had run into him during his struggle to crawl to his safe house and had gone ahead and snitched to Nightwing. The blue bird had forced him to go back to the cave and together with Alfred, they were able to convince him to stay the night or until he healed (though they all knew he would sneak away before then).

Honestly, he would have chosen bleeding out in an alley way to this.

He turns back to the room. They’re in one of the smaller living rooms (Jason still rolls his eyes at the luxury of the manor, who needs multiple living rooms? He never did get use to it) the room is a warm neutral color and consists of two large couches, a love seat and two armchairs (one of which he’s currently sitting on) all positioned to face the large fireplace.

It amazes Jason that everyone is here, and when he says everyone, he means even Duke is here and Jason feels more like an outsider than ever.

He’s tried his hardest to stay away, making sure that he never accidentally run into them but surprise surprise here he is, talk about the worst family reunion. And though the tension between them isn’t as bad as it was before, it’s still awkward.

Duke and Cass give him curious glances, Steph smiles at him when he catches her eye but he hasn’t spoken to them in who knows how long. Tim glances at him warily as if waiting for him to start something, and Damian glares his way whenever they meet eyes. Don’t even get him started on Bruce. The man hasn’t even given him a passing glance. The only one who’s at least trying to pull him in a conversation is Dick and he doesn’t care for the look Dick is giving him, like a puppy who’s head butting you to get your attention because he knows you’re sad.

God, this was hell, sure he’s no longer activity trying to kill them, but they’re far from being a happy family. No matter how hard Dickie’s trying to keep the family together, it’s just too much hard feelings and not enough effort on all their parts.

Besides, the manor brings too many memories with it. Everything pretty much looks the same as it did when he was younger save for a few new pictures and knick knacks. The furniture is the same, the set up of the room, even the weather is the same.

He still remembers the time he spent curled up on the couch reading a book during rainy days as the fireplace warmed him from the Gotham freeze. Bruce would be by him reading his own book and kid him used to hope that this could go on forever, that maybe after all that life had given him that he finally found a place to belong. He remembers looking up at Bruce and getting a smile back, he remembers…he remembers… fire… pain… betrayal-

Suddenly, he feels like he’s floating, like his whole being is just his eyes, like he’s just watching everything happening as his body becomes numb. There is a crushing emptiness in his chest and he has the feeling of being closed in, the room is too crowded, too hot and the voices start to mesh together.

He needs to get out.

Jason takes in a sharp breath silencing the conversation between some of them and is ready to stand up (screw his broken leg). He pushes himself out of the chair and sees Dick standing up ready to help. He shakes his head at his older brother and starts to limp out but stops when he hears a clipped voice from someone entering the room.

“I do hope Master Jason that you’re not thinking about leaving.” Jason turns to the butler (grandfather & caregiver) before he pastes on a smile trying to ignore his siblings’ questioning gaze.

“Of course not Alfie, just gonna walk around a bit, I mean what do you take me for?”

“The fact that you’re not even supposed to be on that leg, much less be walking around; I would say an idiot sir.” Jason grimaces as the younger kids titter at that, he really should have just stayed in that alley and drowned in the rain.

He sits back down and carefully lifts his leg back up.

Dick pulls out a table which Alfred lays the tray of drinks on. He looks at him with a silent question of ‘Are you ok?’ and Jason just nods curtly at him; he really didn’t need the golden boy fussing over him acting like the perfect caring older brother. He knows that’s all bull anyways, just guilt and regret working behind those feelings.

He turns back to the eyes staring at him and narrows his own ready to let them know where they can shove it, but before he gets the chance, Dick interrupts. The eldest turns back to his younger siblings and smiles as he heads next to Damian on the couch. The younger ones gazes automatically follow Dick to where he sits. Jason snorts, Dick Grayson - Ever the center of attention.

“Did I ever tell you guys about the time Bruce and I convinced the whole league that I was a ghost?” Dick starts and Jason sees the family perk at this. Steph stands up and walks closer to Dick, a gleeful smile on her face.

“Oooo, tell me more.”

Dick leans back and throws a hand around Damian’s shoulder, collecting his thoughts before he continues.

“Well, when I was eight it was my first time at the Watchtower and I wasn’t really known as Robin yet, but I was able to talk Bruce –“

“Beg.” Bruce interrupts while Dick rolls his eyes.

“Begged Bruce to let me visit,” he amended before continuing “Anyway, so I went with Bruce to the Watchtower, I guess you can imagine how a lot of the heroes viewed Batman at that time. He was the dark knight all grime, vengeance and ‘I work alone’ hero and suddenly he shows up with a kid dressed up like a traffic light with scaly underwear…” Jason lets his brothers’ story become his anchor as the feeling in his chest lightens and the memories slowly unravel until they disappear for the night. He watches as Dick talks animatedly, he has the attention of everyone in the room as he makes them laugh about his shenanigans and pokes fun at Bruce when the man tries to add to the story or correct what he thought was a mistake.

Jason knows it’s immature of him but as he watches Dick he feels a sting of jealously for the easy way that Dick Grayson could make Bruce relax while he tells stories that to them sound like fairy tales. He’s sure that all of his siblings felt the same jealousy.

Dick Grayson was a charmer, charismatic in a way that’s different from Bruce, more genuine. Maybe it’s his background as a circus performer or maybe it’s because out of all of their siblings he was the only one really grew up with loving parents. But Dick Grayson could soften rock and mold it like clay.

Dick continues with another story from his childhood with Bruce. A Bruce none of them really know. The one who read bedtime stories with funny voices, who readily gave hugs and kisses and sweet nicknames and one who showed that he loved and cared. Of course Jason can’t fault him for it though, Dick was Bruce’s first kid, and Dick had just turned eight at that time, meaning Bruce had him when he was younger than all of them, when he hadn’t lost so many people yet and still had enough light and hope and control over his life.

Dick knew Bruce at a different time, he knew a Bruce that none of them ever had the chance of meeting and for that he was sure all of them listen to his stories with a sense of awe and jealousy.

Jason knows that Dick regrets it, had spoken to him enough to realize that the other man blamed himself for it. He had once confined to him before (under the influence) saying that he felt that his failings made Bruce the way he is, that he messed it up for his younger siblings, that maybe if he had been a better robin, son or partner that there would have been more of Bruce left for them.

Jason wished for that too, but it’s not like him to wonder too long about that. He can’t torture himself about what he should have gotten from Bruce as his son; he let his life be ruled by that long enough.

Dick turns to him and smiles, his eyes bright as he basks in his siblings’ laughter and their questions.

Yeah Dick was just the lucky one, the favorite, the golden child - it was nothing against them.

 ----

 Jason wakes up in his old room and he’s surprised that he fell asleep in the first place. He stares into the darkness before he starts to get restless, he sits up quickly hoping to escape the memories creeping at the edge of is vision. Carefully he brings his legs down and pushes himself to stand wobbling only for a second before he’s limping out of the door. Jason knows that Alfred wouldn’t be too happy with him walking around his leg, but he can’t stand to be in his room right now.

He thinks maybe he should head for the kitchen to get a drink and see if they have any sleeping pills he could take. He hates those things but it’s better than roaming around the manor like a sad ghost. God wouldn’t that just complete his night.

He’s in the hallway but stops when he hears voices from the study. The door is cracked open and the voices are soft enough that he can’t really understand the words. Quietly he peeks in and realizes that the owners of the voices aren’t exactly in the room. Even with a broken leg Jason is able to skillfully lighten his footsteps and quietly push the door open. The study is empty but he can hear the voices a little bit clearer now.

When he steps in, he realizes that the grandfather clock that hides the cave is open and as he gets closer he can finally hear the voices. It’s Dick and Bruce, he sticks close to the wall as he tries to make sense of their argument.

Really he’s not surprised, Dick and Bruce had always had arguments, seems like they never really grew out of it. He should probably leave, it’s not like he never heard it all before, it usually had Dick trying to talk some sense to Bruce and Bruce arguing that he was wrong. He tries to turn when he suddenly hears his name.

“You need to get over yourself Bruce, Jason is up there and you can’t even say a single word to him. He’s taken the steps, he’s slowly opening up to us, but you have to do your part. You’re his father.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Bruce answers gruffly and Jason realizes that Bruce’s voice sound almost … distant. This wasn’t Bruce Wayne talking, this was Batman.

“How do you know? You’ve never spoken to him.”

“I’ve tried” Jason wants to snort at this; really he couldn’t have guessed with the way that Bruce has been acting all night, “it doesn’t end well.”

“Well, were you listening? And I mean really listening, not telling him what or how to feel or pushing your morals on to him.”

“He needs to understa-“

“He does, he’s trying!” Dick interrupts, his voice rising and Jason can just imagine him running a hand thru his hair in exasperation. “He hasn’t killed anyone in a while; he’s been using rubber bullets, he’s been curbing his anger even I can see it and I…I don’t know what you want from him Bruce.”

“He knows what I want.”

“No Bruce, he doesn’t and right now I don’t think even you know what you want. You’re just afraid.” There’s a silence between them and Jason slowly moves his leg to ease the weight, he thinks maybe they were done before Dick whispers out “You haven’t changed one bit from when I first met you.” Jason sucks in a breath as he hears the weight of disappointment and he’s confused. What did Dick mean that Bruce hasn’t changed?

Bruce is confused too and asks “What?”

“You’re still that same person from when I was eight. When I just lost my parents and you took me in. Don’t get me wrong you were great, you helped me and loved me and you were what I needed. You gave me a reason to go on but there were times when I felt like I was the one taking care of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I tried my best.”

“I know you did but I quickly realized that I had to deal with your emotions that you never dealt with when your own parents died and…and maybe the reason why we got along so well when I was a kid was because to me it felt like we were just two kids in a big house who understood each other because of our shared tragedies. But the moment I started to move on and leave my hurts behind I realized that you never would.” Dick voice sounds exhausted as he continues, “I was growing up but I still felt like I had to be there to support you. I had to become the adult for you, and I’m still doing that Bruce. Anytime there’s a situation where you can’t handle emotionally you start pushing people away. You’re so afraid of losing them and I have to come here every time to fix your relationship for you and to tell you how to deal with it. I’m just so tired - mentally, emotionally I was spreading myself so thin just so you could feel better about yourself.”

“I never asked.”

“Oh of course not...you would never ask for help, you’re so afraid of loving those kids Bruce but they already love you. God they would do anything for you and so would I, but I’m not going to let you take advantage of them and raise them the way you raised me. It’s too late for me because I can’t refuse you anymore, but I can fight for them. I know what it’s like to be at the end of your disappointment Bruce, you’ve brainwashed me into a pathetic robot that needs your love and approval.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is, you don’t know how much I’ve given up or done just to get your approval Bruce. My job, my friends, my own team,” At this Dick’s voice gets a little desperate  as Jason leans more heavily on the wall next to the clock, “What more do you want, what more does Jason have to give up, he already gave you his life!”

“Get out.” The voice growls out and Jason steadies himself ready to leave just in case Dick come ups.

“No, this is what I mean Bruce, the minute I try to make you face your own emotions and-“

“I said get out!”

“-start acting like a father for once-“

“Leave!”

“No!”

“Get out before-“

“Before what?! You hit me again?!” Jason feels himself freeze at that, no, that’s…that not what Dick meant, sure Batman had beaten Jason before, but that was before he knew who he was and was pit-crazy. Jason is sure Dick didn’t mean that Bruce would hit one of his kids for no reason, he’s not like Willis. Bruce was always supposed to be safe. But Dick continues “…because you can’t control me or because you don’t want to hear what I have to say? Go ahead, blame me for everything! Hit me! You know I’m pathetic enough to come crawling back asking for forgiveness so just do it!”

Jason waits, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he prepares to intervene, he waits for a slap, a punch, anything. He knows that if Bruce did lay a hand on Dick that he would run down the cave and throw his own fists in even if he has to crawl down.

“That…was a mistake.” Bruce finally answers and he hears a short laugh, bitter filled and mocking.

“Of course it was, the first time.” Then in a tired voice he adds, “and I’ve forgiven you for all of them Bruce.”

Suddenly Jason feels so betrayed, not just by Bruce but by Dick too. Dick always tried to get them to talk, to open up, and to make sure that they didn’t end up keeping things inside so it didn’t eat them up or destroy them. He made sure that Bruce was treating them ok and told them to come to him should they feel the need too. Yet he hid in the dark his own troubles, and Dick for years had preached to them to heal and in shame he had wiped up his tears with a smile and hid ugly bruises and bloody lips in the dark shadows of their broken family.

Again he thought about what he had been jealous of Dick about. Yes, Dick knew a Bruce they didn’t, a Bruce who had less control of his anger, whose parents’ death still felt fresh especially after taking in Dick, and whose life for years had revolved around the mask and nothing else. Bruce had to learn to open up again and his mistakes left their mark on his oldest child.

The silence stretches and Jason wonders now if they’re done. He wonders who will leave first, Dick or Bruce? The answer doesn’t surprise him when Dick starts once again.

“Bruce…” the voice beseeches softly and Jason knows even after all that Dick is the one reaching out for forgiveness. Jason doesn’t think he can handle this anymore, he flees. Quickly he wobbles out of the study, he goes back to the hall way and finds his way to his room, the conversation still tearing thru his mind.

God he hates himself. He knows that Dick and Bruce never had a perfect relationship; he was there front and center for most of their fights when he was a kid. And just like how Dick knew a different Bruce Jason knew a different Dick, he wasn’t always the perfect brother; he remembers when he was an angry teen, one who had felt betrayed after his mantle had been taken from him. He remembers the glare that Dick had given him looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And he remembers the Dick Grayson who didn’t want nor care for that title of older brother.

He gets to his room and steadies himself on the nightstand as he sits on the bed. He grabs at his head pulling the strands of his hair, damn it damn it damn it.

He shouldn’t have listened in, he was perfectly content to imagine that Dick and Bruce had a great relationship and that everything had worked out after he died, because if not…what does that mean for him and the rest of his siblings? That if the golden child of the family couldn’t get approval from Bruce, was all their efforts and sacrifices all for nothing? Was his death all for nothing?

“Jay?” Jason turns to the door where Dick is peering at him, the light from the hallway shadowing his face.

“Knock.” He grits out and the older man tilts his head and even though Jason can’t see his face he knows that he probably has that damned look of his again.

“I did. Can I come in?”

“’sa free country.” Dick takes a moment before he walks in and sits on the bed by him.

“Nightmares?” Dick asks and Jason wishes it was. Nightmares he could deal with.

“Yeah sure.” There’s an awkward silence between them, Jason doesn’t know if Dick knew he had heard his argument with Bruce, so he asks. “What are you doing up?”

“Just…checking on everyone, Tim has a bad habit of staying up way past when he should and Steph and Cass sometimes gets the idea of baking in the middle of the night with Babs on the phone.”

Jason turns to look at the man and tries to imagine the bruises on his face. Imagines his excuses and his smiles and his avoidance of any questions about them with practiced ease, and they as non metas are used to making excuses for unexplained bruises.

Jason wonders how Dick could handle it, being in the presence of his abuser. How can he smile and joke and trust the person who’s beaten him down and made him feel less…but in a way he can understand. Bruce wasn’t someone you could easily leave and forget. Bruce could bring people together, push them to do their best and light up their passion to fight for something. He left you feeling like you could own the world, but the minute you turn to him for approval he stares back at you like you haven’t done enough so you push on, dragging your broken body and splintered mind begging for another chance.

Dick wasn’t wrong, Bruce had a way to make you feel pathetic. Hell, he was only with Bruce for a few years and he’s still chasing after the guys love and approval, he couldn’t imagine being under him for almost two decades and living thru all his drama and trying to make sense of his messed up emotions. Let alone managing it and trying to piece out the puzzle of his psyche so it could be presented as normal for others so no one else had to deal with it.

“Jay?” Jason looks into concerned eyes and realizes that he hasn’t said anything, “did you…want to talk about it? It may help.” Jason holds himself back from laughing mockingly at this, Dick was the biggest hypocrite. Yeah, talk about it; it’ll help Jason and all the while Dick tightened the reins on his own problems.

He thinks about taking the things he’s heard from the cave and just throwing it back on Dicks face, start yelling at him for his idiocy until he’s hoarse and shake his shoulders to get him to spill everything.

He wants to punch him in the face (and sees the irony of that) and tell him everything wrong with what he’s doing and if it had been him a few months ago he would have. Just let him have it and damned the consequences.

He knows that people see him as nothing more than a muscled wall of anger who doesn’t think and who lets his fists and guns do all the talking but Jason wasn’t just a bomb waiting to happen (barring the first few years after his resurrection). Many seem to forget that he was reasonable too. He was level headed enough and could fix a problem without his guns. Otherwise he would never make it as a respected crime lord or a vigilante that could hold candle to Batman himself.

So he tries a different tactic, maybe bring up his past and lay down a picture for Dick to compare to, or at least see how deep this rabbit hole went.

“I never really knew my dad.” He starts, trying to sound nostalgic, “He was in and out of prison most of the time.” Dick scoots closer and Jason sees him getting ready to comfort, his eyes are open and sad and Jason wonders how many times Dick has lent a shoulder to someone that his actions right now is automatic, that in just a few seconds his face and his eyes soften to look caring and empathetic.

“But when he was around … well it wasn’t bad, I mean it wasn’t like some other kids in our neighborhood. Just a smack here and there for talking back or not doing what he asked. He broke my wrist once, but …” He glances at Dick and he sees him nod understandingly urging him to go on.

“I deserved it.”

“No Jay,” Dick shakes his head, anger in his eyes and Jason can see how strongly Dick feels about it, “no one deserves that. That’s abuse, he had no right to hit you.”

Jason nods slowly; at least he knows Dick knows abuse for what it is.

“Yeah? Did your dad ever hit you?”

“Never.” Dick answers with conviction so Jason chooses now to strike.

“Did Bruce?” At this Dick stiffens and realization dawns in his eyes, he knows that Jason had heard. Jason watches as suddenly Dick puts up a guard, something unnamed flashes in his eyes and suddenly he pulls back.

“That…that’s different.”

Jason is quick to answer now, “Yeah, you’re right. I mean it doesn’t matter if he’s smacked me a few times then right? Or Tim or Damian?” Dick’s face suddenly looses all color before his jaws tighten and his hands ball into fists.

“That’s not fair.”

Jason laughs bitterly.  “What’s not fair? That I’m calling you out for playing the martyr again?”

“I’m not-“

“Oh fess up, you don’t get to act like a self righteous prick and talk about how Bruce can’t face his problems when you’re doing the same thing.” They’re quiet again and Jason wonders if anyone else can hear them. He can see Dick’s hands shaking and he feels enough pity to give him a way out. “Fine, tell me this, the times that Bruce hit you, was it when you were in costume? Cuz, hey, I can understand that, it comes with the territory, but Bruce has no right to hit you outside of it.”

The silence is all that Jason needs to hear for an answer and he feels his blood boiling. He wants to ask, ask what led to Bruce hitting him outside of their costume, ask what he said and what he did that made him think he warranted Bruce’s fists, but as he stares at Dick he knows he won’t get an answer. Dick Grayson would rather die with his secrets than ruin any semblance of peace he has found between them. And Jason thinks maybe Dick is trying to do him a favor by not telling him.

“He didn’t mean it.” Dick whispers and they both know how that sounds.

‘They didn’t mean it’

‘They were just angry’

‘It’s my fault’

‘They promised it won’t happen again.’

It’s the loud slam of his fist on the nightstand that makes them both jump. Jason didn’t even realize how deeply he’s breathing, but he can’t help it, if he hears another excuse from Dick he’s gonna stand up and start screaming and wake the whole house. He’ll throw everything down and tear it all raw and all the anger and darkness in their family would be splayed on the floor. But he knows if he does that Dick would never be the same, no matter what anyone says Dick has been the main reason that their family is surviving, he’s filled the holes, hid the secrets, soothe the hurts. He’s given his blood, sweat and tears into making it somewhat functional. It wasn’t perfect, he failed many times (and Jason can’t help but be bitter about the fact that he’s one of those failings) but he also did a lot of things right. He never gave up on any of them and to tear it all down now would break him, because Dick was the heart of this family and the family was his heart.

And for all of Bruce’s flaws and secrets Jason knows he cares for them, either because they were useful to him or because they fit in his agenda of saving Gotham in a never ending mission. He can’t help but feel disgusted by the fact that he cares about Bruce too, that even with every secret that’s being ripped open showing Jason how messed up he is, Jason still cares.

But…he can’t let Dick keep doing this to himself, keeping those secrets. Hiding the emotional, mental and physical bruises. Someday Dick will break under that and the family will follow right after. He knows it isn’t much, (too little, too late) but he may keep the family from falling apart just a little longer.

“Promise me,” he looks Dick right in the eyes because he wants him to know that this isn’t arguable, “if Bruce lays a hand on you again that you come to me.” Jason finalizes what he has to say to make sure that Dick understands, “And if you don’t and I find out, I’m done. I’m out of this family.”

Dick tries to read his eyes while surprise, confusion and hesitance shine back in his own. The array of emotions doesn’t surprise Jason, he’s been slow to fixing his relationship with the eldest. And he’s been guilty of leaving everything to Dick when things go south, ignoring his pleas and outstretched hands when he needed help so much so that Dick learned to do things on his own while barely keeping himself a float. He figured out how to come up every once in a while to breathe before being pulled down again.

So Jason tries.  

“I know that…that I may not be the first person for you to talk to and it might not mean a lot now since I haven’t been around but…“he tries to find the words, settles on the truth and aims to hit Dick where it matters, his sense of duty to their family “we’re the older brothers right? We protect the family. Together. It’s my burden to share.”

He can see Dick’s eyes shine before a fight starts in them, sees as Dick looks at every angle of his offer. Jason can slowly start to see the acceptance in his eyes but he also knows that Dick will always carry the heavier load on his own back.

“I’m not asking you to tell me all of your secrets Dick. Just like I will never tell you all of mine, I just want to be there when you deal with Bruce’s bull headedness and misplaced anger. That’s all I ask.”

Jason doesn’t know how long he waits, but he counts it as a win when Dick doesn’t automatically leave or smile it off.

Lighting flashes and the thunder echoes before Dick scoots closer to him. Before long he feels a weight on his shoulder as Dick finally lets himself relax even if it’s just for a little while.

It’s this that Jason realizes for the first time (at three in the morning on a rainy night in his old room surrounded by everything he left behind) that he finally feels like he’s part of the family. That along with his older brother they would keep the secrets together so that their growing family could someday find peace.

He lays his cheek on his brothers head and feels something expanding in his chest trying to lodge the ball in his throat out. No, this isn’t the time, Dick needs him to be the strong one right now.

So he pushes the feeling down and listens as the rain outside continues to pour.

END

Why can't we give love that one more chance?

'Cause love's such an old fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night

And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves

 This is ourselves under pressure…

 -       Under pressure by Queen/David Bowie

[dontfeedthebabytigers]

You’ve Got So Much Heart: Chapter 13

ao3 link (x)

Bruce found Dick and Damian in the den as they watched some inane movie filled with color and movement. His youngest laid swaddled in large and fluffy blankets; his head leaned against Damian while his brother held him close. Turning around seemed like the best option, but Bruce’s best, and worst, quality always was his inability to walk away from difficult situations.

He cleared his through, but his children didn’t bother turn around and look at him. They knew he arrived in the room the moment his oxfords crossed the threshold. “Damian---”

“No,”

Any questions about if Damian forgave him for keeping secrets was an emphatic no. Bruce didn’t expect much more. “I need to talk to Dick alone.”

“You had plenty of opportunities to speak with him.”

Damian’s grip tightened around his little brother. Bruce’s eldest vicious protective attitude towards Dick often helped Bruce sleep better at night. To know that over the three hours he slept that Damian kept watch over Dick brought him some level of peace. Only now Bruce saw the bitter and cold side of his protective instinct.

“I’m trying to explain myself, Damian.”

“Then start talking, but I’m staying right here.” Damian pulled Dick even closer to him.

Bruce saw the sleeve on Damian’s shirt tug downwards a few times and a small slip of paper passed up from a hand hidden in thick blankets. Damian read the note and huffed when he stood up.

“You have ten minutes. I’ll be outside.” Never far away, yet Damian still claimed to not care about anything.

Bruce rounded the sofa’ he approached the mass of blankets with great care. The blankets didn’t twitch at his approach, but he knew the boy underneath must be riddled with tension, listening to his every move. Dick’s special awareness rivalled the bats that lived below their feet. Bruce had yet to sneak up on a child almost thirty-years younger than him.

“Can I sit?” Always best to ask. The blankets didn’t answer, so Bruce took Damian’s old spot--- careful to leave space between Dick and himself. “I think I owe you an explanation.”

Silence. Bruce continued on. “The Court left you so little, and even though you said you couldn’t remember the Circus, I know you still find peace in the memories. And that even without any evidence beyond the photo suspicion would destroy that memory.”

A note pushed through all the fabric. You don’t trust me, it said. We’re supposed to be partners.

“Oh, Dickie,” He rested his hand on the edge of Dick’s blanket--- close enough for Dick to feel but without invading his space. “Of course, I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

Another note. He told me. Not you. That note Bruce crumpled in his fist.

“Cobb doesn’t trust you, or care. He only told you to hurt you and make you doubt yourself. I tried to do the opposite, but I still messed it up. You can blame me, hate me if you want just so long as you know all Cobb has done is lie to you and abuse you.” He took a breath, calmed himself. “I trust you, Dick. You’re my Robin.”

Nothing. Dick didn’t say anything. He didn’t pass a note written with carefully constructed letters. Under the blankets his body curled further in on itself and away from Bruce. Dick pulled the blankets until Bruce could see how his knees pressed into his chest. He saw the death grip Dick had on the soft material. The nightmares would come worse tonight than they had in months.

Last chance. “There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

Hesitance, then the blanket eases up for the time it takes to write a single worded question. Doctors?

Bruce’s heart clenches in his chest. The last time Dick had fallen into a dissociative phase Bruce and Damian had rushed him to Dr. Thompson and then--- when she couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him--- they brought him to the Watchtower. When Dick woke up from his state he had to endure prodding from Doctor Midnight and Martian Manhunter--- along with a secondary examination for a concerned Lee Thompson--- and he felt miserable. “No, there’s no doctors this time. He’s a few years older than you but considering the last few times I saw him you could never tell.”

Who?

“His name is Wally West. He’s the Flash’s nephew and he’s about to become the youngest member of Damian’s team. I met with him to assess his skill level and he expressed the utter joy he would have in meeting the current Boy Wonder.” Here goes nothing. “If you’re up for it, I could set up a meeting soon as Saturday.”

Dick’s head popped up from the blanket, the spark in his eyes had come back. He shoved a note in Bruce’s face. Really? The note said. But he’s a speedster, right?

Bruce couldn’t help but laugh--- apparently, he hadn’t been subtle with annoyance towards speedsters like he thought he had been. “I’m sure I can live with one speedster under my roof for a few hours. We’ll have to see about anything long than that to make sure my head doesn’t explode. I don’t think Alfred would appreciate that cleaning my brains off the celling.”

That got a quick smile from Dick, but it faded quickly to only get replaced with a new note. Can I tell him?

“Only if your wat to, but you have to know for certain. There’s no rush in meet with him. Wally doesn’t even know this is happening.”

He nods. Last time Dick made this decision to tell someone about what happened to him--- when he had told Barbara--- he had night terrors for days and spent most of his time secluded in the Batcave’s robin nest. Bruce had to hope if he told Wally that the result wouldn’t traumatize him as much this time.

Dick passed a new note. What’s his hero name?

“Kid Flash.” Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle at Dick’s unimpressed look. “What? You don’t want the criminals of Gotham to call you Kid Bat?”

Dick scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

“I kind of like the sound of it. What do you think, Kid Bat?”

His ward shoved him playfully, a smile stuck on his face now.

“Are we okay?” Bruce asked--- he hated himself for a causing the smile to slip away again. “I know how bad I messed up--- and I can’t promise that I won’t make more mistakes in the future--- but I can promise that I’ll always try. All I ask in return is doesn’t let what you learned yesterday keep you down. Your parents loved you Dick, and all they would want from you is to be a kid again. That’s something I have in common with them.”

A sudden weight crashed against Bruce’s chest. Dick’s head buried against his chest--- arms locked around his waist, so sudden he could barely remember to return the hug. Bruce ran a hand through Dick’s hair and wished there moments weren’t so rare.

“I don’t remember them.” Dick whispered--- voice rough. “But I still miss them.”

Bruce’s shirt got wet. “I don’t really remember my parents either. But I still miss them every day.”

They stayed together on the couch--- all while pretending not to notice the other tears. Soon, Dick fell asleep in the safety of his guardian’s arms. Bruce closed his eyes and tried to remember the night Dick came to live with them--- dressed in Damian’s childhood clothes that hung off his body. That night Bruce told story after story about his parents. Everything he could remember until Dick shared his own.

Damian didn’t come back into the room until the clock struck midnight. His stealth improved everyday--- Bruce hadn’t even noticed his son until Damian leaned against the wall to better glare at him.

“You don’t deserve this,” Damian said, nodding at Dick curled against him. “Not this soon.”

Bruce pushed Dick’s bangs back. “I don’t. I know that I won’t be getting back into your good graces anytime soon either. It’s only plain luck that kept you both in my life tonight.”

Damian regarded him for a time. He chuckled and sat in the arm chair to Bruce’s right. “No one that’s lived under this roof could call themselves lucky in good conscience. These halls don’t know the meaning of that word.”

“Maybe not, but you’re both, here aren’t you?” A melancholy smile. “I can’t say that about all my children.”

“You can’t,” blunt as ever. “But the fact that you can say you have two isn’t controlled by luck. It’s controlled by you.” Damian stood up. “I know it’s pointless to tell you not to keep secrets from us again. Just improve your judgement for what should qualify as secret worthy. I meant it when I said that I would take Dick away from you.”

Bruce knew that Damian didn’t say things he didn’t mean. But above the fear that he could one day not hold his children this close there was something else. “You’ve grown so much since you first came here. I’m proud of you, Damian.”

Damian nodded before he left the room, as formal as he was at the age of ten.

“What’s that sound?”

“It’s the robins. Today’s the first day of spring.”

“I don’t see how the season has anything to do with the twittering of birds.”

“It’s about rebirth, Damian.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will one day.”

[unavenged-robin]

Children of yesterday

Direct sequel of For thine is the kingdom

Read on AO3

The second time Damian wears the Nightwing costume, it’s because he’s angry at Bruce. Not that he’s ever going to say it out loud, but Jason doesn’t need him to. It takes him just one look to understand.

“Hiya, baby Wing”, he greets him when the boy lands right on top of one the thugs currently trying to kill him.

“Don’t call me that”, Damian grumbles under his breath while he moves on to take down the next criminal.

Jason snorts and lands a few punch of his own, having care to never leave Damian out of his peripheral vision.

“Thought you’d like it better than baby Bat, considering the change of theme.”

Damian doesn’t respond to the barb. He just lowers his brow and keeps beating the daylight out of Penguin's’ men. Which, in a way, is exactly the answers Jason knew he was going to get.

But well, beating the lowlife it’s cheaper than actual therapy and provides a useful service to the community, so Jason’s more than okay with it. He still keeps an eye on the kid anyway, because he knows that kind of mindset and the troubles that come with it. He’s never been the family’s favorite babysitter for the kids, but he’s not a bad one, despite what Dick says behind his back.

But fighting side by side with Damian all dressed up in the Nightwing gears is a few degree of weirdness above the usual, and Jason finds himself distracted more than once. He has to put up with a few lame punches that otherwise would’ve never find their target, and yet he still keeps studying the new Nightwing’s performance.

The fighting style is so recklessly Damian it would be impossible to mistake him for anyone else. The cold precision of his movements, the silent and once-upon-a-time lethal fury, they’re all Damian’s traits, but the kid’s making an effort in throwing in a few acrobatics pieces that are unmistakingly Nightwing’s signature. There is so much more, though. The meticulousness of the beating is all Bruce, for example. The controlled sequence of punches in all the right places, the way he uses every surface and every shadows to his advantage. Jason looks at him and sees a much younger version of himself training in the cave, Bruce looming over him, the sweet smell of Alfred’s cooking in the air.

“Hood!”

There’s a knife in Damian’s hand. And there’s a thug with a broken arm at Jason’s feet.

“I had that under control, kiddo”, Jason lies lazily. “But thank you anyway, it’s so sweet to know you care.”

“I’ll stab you myself if you don’t focus on the fight”, Damian promises with a snarl, and Jason laughs because no, he will not, and they both know that.

It’s funny to think that Damian was a lot more of a threat when he was a scrawny ten years old who barely reached Jason’s elbow than he is now, at eighteen, not yet taller or thicker than him, but definitely on his way to (although Jason’s still cradling the hope for Damian to get just a little bit taller than Dick and still be shorter than him, because that would be what perfection looks like in his book).

Anyway, on any other night Jason would’ve replied to the kid’s threat with something along the line of “both of your daddies would be so very upset to hear that”, but obviously tonight’s not the right time to push that issue. Not if Jason wants to avoid a black eye and a long conversation about daddy issues where he has to be the reasonable party and not the angry one.

Besides, he’s not sure he could be of help even if he tried. Jason’s never asked too many question about Dick and Bruce’s arrangement about Damian’s parentage. He never felt the need to, and for the better part of the time, he was also in no position to ask anything.

When Jason died he had a father, a grandfather and an older brother with a pregnant girlfriend. When he came back he had a father, a grandfather, an older brother, a sister in law, a niece and two little brothers, and one of said little brothers was also his older brother’s son. It was ridiculous and borderline shakespearian, and it amused him to no end. Still does, sometimes, especially during Christmas family dinners and such.

Jason takes care of another few thugs, then he leans against a wall and watches the new Nightwing in town doing his best to adjust the few remaining criminals’ bones in the most creative way he can think. He should probably tell him to take it a bit easier, but a bad night is a bad night, and it’s not like he’s in the right position to scold anyone about using violence as a stress relief.

But once all men are on the ground, Damian’s shoulders slump down, and the kid’s stance suddenly looks defeated, even if he’s standing in the middle of an alley littered with moaning enemies.

So Jason sighs and pushes himself up. Walking towards him, he wraps an arm around Damian’s shoulders and pulls the kid closer to him and away from the thugs.

“Celebratory beer?”, he proposes.

He’s rewarded with a sideway smirk under the familiar blue domino mask.

“You would give alcohol to an underage vigilante, Hood?”

“Well, what kind of fun older brother would I be if I did not buy my little brother his first beer?”, Jason smiles back.

“The kind of fun older brother who would think that it’d be my first beer”, Damian retorts. “You’re worse than Bruce, honestly.”

“Oh, so he’s Bruce now? That bad, uh?”, Jason teases. “Well, at least he’s not Wayne yet, so if you want my professional opinion, I think there’s still hope.”

Damian elbows him in the ribs but Jason can tell he’s biting down another grin.

“Shut up.”

He doesn’t add anything and Jason doesn’t push. He’s never been one for touchy-feelings conversations and his family knows that. He ruffles the kid’s hair, then moves away.

“C’mon, brat, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Damian shakes his head at his offer.

“I’ll keep patrolling.”

Jason doesn’t know if he wants to sigh or frown at the idea. It’s not like Damian’s never patrolled alone before - far from it, actually - but it still feels like he has to say something about it. He just can’t decide what. So he keeps it simple.

“Damian.”

But the kid’s already taking out his grappling hook and only spares him a quick, stubborn glance.

“It’s fine.”

“Sure.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Jason finds himself relenting almost immediately. He smiles behind his mask and waves his hand to motion for the kid to move on.

“You’re welcome, by the way”, Damian taunts before vanishing up in the dark.

Jason scoffs and fishes out a phone from his back pocket.

“Hey”, he starts conversationally, without giving the other the time to put in even a hello?. “Just wanted to let you know I spotted a wild Nightwing running around Gotham. Looked a little bit like you, but way, way younger and good looking. Know anyone who may fit the description?”

*

Dick knew since the exact moment he and Kory signed up Damian’s adoption papers that this conversation was not going to be a one time thing.

They talked about it before the adoption was finalized, and they talked about it after, and then again when Bruce came back. They talked about it during sleepless nights and tiring days, over too excited family dinners and boring patrols. They talked about it with Damian and Mar’i, with Tim and Barbara, Cassandra and Stephanie, with Bruce and Alfred, and even with Talia Al Ghul. And every time he talked about it, Dick felt like he had burning stones settled in his guts.

Tonight is no exception, of course.

When this thing started, he had no idea this is how it would’ve ended. Wouldn’t have believed it, if someone had told him.

When Bruce died and Damian came crashing into their lives, he was living in Blüdhaven with Kory and Mar’i. They had a house and friends and a good, long-established routine. They were happy, Dick remembers that. Moving back to Gotham was a sacrifice he didn’t do light-heartedly. Took a month for him to even start considering it. And when he did, he had to face Damian, this ten years old child who had just lost everything, living alone with Alfred in the empty shell of what it used to be his father’s house, and Dick just couldn’t bear it. So he took him in, because it was the right thing to do, and as a reward for his good action the first few weeks in the new house had been pure hell. Alfred did his best to keep everything together, but Dick was suffering, Mar’i was heartbroken, Damian was angry, Kory didn’t know what to do, and they were all mourning. On top of that the kids kept fighting and screaming at each other and Dick had lost his patience more than once.

That was the worst thing. Not bearing Bruce’s unwanted legacy, not training a new, arrogant, insufferable Robin, not even having to put up again with a city he thought he’d left behind, but seeing his family so broken. The fights with Tim, Cassandra’s absence, Barbara’s distance, Jason’s criminal rampage, Mar’i and Damian hating each other and being very vocal about it.

In retrospect, Dick really doesn’t know how he survived it. How they all survived to the anger and the blame and the constant suffering. And yet, he thinks now, smiling at Gotham’s cloudy sky, in the end they managed to do it oh so well.

He still remembers the first time he realized that things were finally starting to change for the better. It was maybe a few months after they moved to Gotham, he was pulling a late shift at the police station, working on a double homicide case, and he’d received a text from Kory. It was a photo, and at first he only saw the caption: two red heart emojis. Which, coming from Koriand’r, could mean anything, Dick had mused. But when he opened it, he found himself staring in surprise at two kids, one laying on his back, in a kind of funny, familiar soldier-like position, the other sprawled on top of the first one, face smushed into his shoulder, both deep asleep. Afterwards Dick had to admit that it took him a moment to recognize Damian and Mar’i (something Kory had found so, so funny).

It’s a good memory, one of his most treasured ones. He keeps it in mind now, while he swings from one building to another towards the coordinates Jason gave him.

*

He finds Damian on top of an old building, very close to where their penthouse used to be. It’s still a weird feeling, seeing him wearing his old costume, but overall it’s not an unpleasant one.

Dick lands on the roof with his usual quietness, but he doesn’t bother with hiding his presence. He knows Damian’s already spotted him.

“I have a joke”, he greets him then. “Two Nightwings walk into a bar, the bartender says-”

“Are you angry?”, Damian asks.

“No, that’s not how the joke goes.”

Damian huffs and reaches out to the back of his head to pull up a hood that’s not there. When he realizes his mistake Damian clenches his hands into fists before dropping them down on his lap. Dick’s heart hurts a little.

He sits beside him on the edge of the roof and bumps him with his shoulder to let him know that it’s okay, that angry is the last thing he would ever be, and Damian seems to understand the message well enough, but still refuses to look up at him.

“How does the joke go, then?”

“No idea. I didn’t come up with a punchline because I was counting on you interrupting me right away.”

Damian snorts and his feature softens in a way that Dick still finds heart-clenching, even after all these years. While he doesn’t mind doing it, he hates that he still has to reassure Damian that he’s loved - always, always loved - and that one burst of anger (because apparently they’re not allowed to call them tantrums anymore) is not going to change anything, not ever. Not for Dick, not for Bruce, not for anyone.

“You’re a ridiculous man.”

“Well, you’re a very serious kid”, Dick replies. “I have to compensate.”

Damian hums like he’s humoring him, and raises his head to stare at Gotham’s skyline. Dick doesn’t push him, but he reaches out to briefly rub a hand against the kid’s back in a silent invitation.

“Sometimes”, Damian starts, voice soft but steady. “I feel like he’s relieved when we go back to the cave to change after patrol and I leave to come home to you. And sometimes I feel like he’s angry at me for not staying, for- for betraying him like this.”

Dick sucks a breath between his teeth.

“Damian, you never betrayed him.”

“I did”, Damian objects. “I betrayed my mother for him, and I betrayed him for you. What does that say about me?”

“That you still have trouble understanding how this family thing works, kiddo.”

Damian frowns and for a moment Dick really believes that this time the kid’s going to listen to him. To, at least, take in consideration the idea that there’s no foul play here, that family is not an army or a political party. But he senses the defeat even before he sees Damian shaking his head.

“I made a choice”, the kid states. “And it was mine, not Father’s, and not yours or Kory’s.”

Dick remembers it differently.

He remembers coming back home two days after Bruce’s return from the dead to find Damian’s stuff packed and his bags piled up by the front door. He remembers hearing Mar’i cry and Damian refusing to answer her questions, the sound of skin hitting skin and his daughter flying away from them when he entered the living room.

He remembers Damian looking up at him, right cheek still red from Mar’i’s slap.

“He’s my father.”

And it sounded like a question, so Dick answered.

“So am I.”

It hurt to see the grimace on Damian’s face, it hurt even more when the boy licked his lips and looked away before speaking.

“It’s- that’s not the same thing.”

Damian was eleven by then. And Dick knew that all his reasons could not overthrow a decade of Al Ghul’s convictions about legacies and bloodlines. So he reached out and pulled Damian to his chest, hugged him close, kissed the top oh his head.

“You don’t have to choose”, he murmured into the boy’s hair. “No one will ever ask you to choose, Damian. Not me and not Bruce. And whatever you decide to do, no one will get angry. I promise you that.”

It was obvious that Damian didn’t believe him in the slightest. And in a dark corner of his mind Dick had thought that the kid was expecting not only a choice, but also the resulting punishment, and he just couldn’t shake off the idea that Damian was choosing Bruce because he’d expect a worse punishment from him than from Dick.

It angered him, but he was ready to let Damian go anyway. Because he felt guilty towards Bruce, because he felt like it was not his place, not his choice. But then Damian had tightened his fists, pushed himself closer to Dick and without even looking up, he had asked him a question.

“Then can I stay?”

That whisper had hurt him then, and it keeps hurting him everytime he thinks about it, because Damian never asked it again, not in words, but Dick can still hear it sometimes. Knows that Kory can hear it too. He hears it again tonight, underneath everything else, and he shuts his eyes close, inhaling and breathing out Gotham’s cold air with a sigh.

“It was your choice”, Dick agrees. “And Bruce’s. And mine and Kory’s. Kiddo, believe me, if we didn’t all agree that it was the best thing for you, then our arrangement would’ve been different, you know that.”

And at the time there had been indeed a lot of discussions about other viable options. But what Dick remembers better than anything else, was Bruce sitting at his desk, features unreadable as ever as he examined the adoption papers, his fingers hovering over Damian’s name and Dick’s signature, like he was looking for the right clues to piece together a story of which he only knew the ending. Like they were one of his cases to be solved and not just his family.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, so Dick swallows, then reaches out for Damian’s hand before continuing.

“And I know how Bruce gets. I know that sometimes it feels like that whatever you do is not good enough for him, that you disappoint him in every little things. But believe this too: even if that’s the case, and not only your insecurity getting the best of you, then that’s Bruce’s problem, not yours”, Dick explains softly. “As long as you do your best, as long as you feel like you’re doing what’s right for you, then other people's expectations are nothing more than a suggestion, something you have to decide for yourself whether to accept or ignore. That’s especially true if we are talking about parents, both biological and adoptive. We don’t always know best, you know?”

Damian makes a snorting noise but doesn’t pound in on that like he usually would. For someone who was born with a destiny and a carefully planned life, it’s confusing to be told that there is no great scheme, that life is not a war to be won. Dick understands that.

“You planning on keeping that suit for yourself or you prefer keep stealing it every now and then?”, he asks then, to lighten the mood. “Because I don’t mind either way, but replacing the locks every night could become annoying.”

“I’ll fix them”, Damian mutters. “Sorry”, he adds then, as an afterthought.

“You didn’t answer me”, Dick points out.

“Are you really only asking about your suit”, Damian muses. “Or are you asking me if I’m ditching Robin?”

Dick stretches his arms, clasps his hands behind his head and lays down on his back against the cold concrete of the roof. It takes Damian less than a minute to let out an exasperated sigh and follow his example. Dick smiles and closes his eyes again.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, kiddo”, he answers when he feels Damian’s head resting against his arm. “Just that I’m going to be proud of you whatever you decide to do.”

And this time, at least, Damian doesn’t question his words or the feeling behind it.