Chapter Text
A door clicked shut. There was a rustle of fabric.
Suddenly, Dick was awake. He cracked his eyes open into the dim cocoon of the suit jacket held over his head.
“No,” he said quietly. His head throbbed in answer to the sound.
“Dick,” Bruce’s voice came in a low and familiar timbre.
“No,” Dick repeated, closing his eyes again and curling up tighter on the bench. “I’m not speaking to Batman.”
There was a moment of silence. “Why not?” Bruce asked.
“Because I’m trying to sleep,” Dick said, sounding a little more frustrated than he honestly meant to. “You got Will to argue sleep deprivation, but you won’t let me sleep?”
“Dick I need you to talk to me,” Bruce said as the sound of rustling fabric got closer. “What the hell is going on?”
“I punched a guy in front of five hundred people,” Dick said dully, trying to ignore the rapidly reappearing vice around his head. “And now I’m in police custody. I hardly think I need to explain this to Batman, of all people.”
“You didn’t just punch him. You looked like you wanted to kill him,” Bruce said, low and quiet. “You went nonverbal and you wouldn’t talk to any of us. Not even Damian.” Bruce paused for a moment. “You tried to refuse your lawyer, and now Will has told me that you don’t want any of us here when you’re released.” This time even Bruce’s pause sounded baffled. “What’s going on, Dick?”
“I told you,” Dick said softly. “I’m not talking to Batman.”
“Montgomery Winthrop was calling for your head. He was out for blood. But then he spent five minutes in a private hospital room with his son, and he was suddenly on the phone to everyone he could think of to get your charges downgraded.” The fabric rustled even closer. “Why did he have such a change of heart?”
“I suppose you’d have to ask him,” Dick said, curling his fingers tighter over his head as his headache throbbed louder and hotter.
“Dick, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” Bruce said. There was another rustle of fabric, and then Bruce’s warmth appeared on the bench next to Dick. A moment later, and the familiar weight of the cape settled over Dick’s body. “You look cold,” Bruce said quietly.
Dick really wished Bruce hadn’t done that, because now his eyes were prickling painfully. “I’m not talking to Batman,” he repeated, more hoarsely than he would have liked. “But-” Dick cut himself off.
“But…?” Bruce asked.
Silence stretched out in the cell. The only sound was their breathing; Bruce’s in calm steadiness, and Dick’s in stilted, hitched movements.
“But I might talk to Bruce,” Dick whispered. “At some point, I mean.” As instant regret curdled in his stomach, he curled up tighter under the cape. “No promises though,” he mumbled.
A warm hand rested gently on Dick’s shoulder, squeezing carefully. Dick screwed his eyes tight, but he couldn’t stop his cheeks from growing wet.
“Okay,” Bruce said quietly. “Then Bruce will be waiting in the GCPD reception when you’re released tomorrow morning.”
“No,” Dick said. “I don’t want you there.”
Bruce’s thumb began to rub soothingly on Dick’s shoulder. “Then how can you talk to me?” he asked.
“I said at some point,” Dick said, trying to sound irritated but not quite succeeding. “I’ll choose when and if I talk to Bruce.”
“Okay,” Bruce said, his thumb continuing its comforting motions. “What about Jason?” he asked. “Do you want him there?”
“No, I don’t want any of you there,” Dick murmured into the safety of the suit jacket covering his head.
Bruce let out a slow exhale. “Jason knows more than anyone else,” he said. It wasn’t a question, so Dick didn’t answer. “He wants to be there in the morning, and I don’t know if I can stop him.”
“You’re Batman, aren’t you?” Dick said, somewhat acerbically. “I think you can find a way to stop him.”
“Dick, there’s going to be press there,” Bruce said, low and quiet. “I don’t think you want to face them alone.”
“I can handle the press,” Dick said, although he wasn’t sure he believed himself.
Bruce clearly didn’t believe him either, because even his silence sounded sceptical. “It’s not going to be a handful of reporters,” he said, squeezing Dick’s shoulder gently. “I’m sorry, Dick, but the story’s blown up overnight. You’re going to get mobbed the minute you step outside that station.”
Dick felt his cheeks grow newly wet. “What are they saying?” he whispered.
Bruce paused. “What you’d expect,” he said eventually, and Dick used every inch of his self-control not to let his breath hitch in response.
“Send security with a car,” Dick said hoarsely. “Park a bike a few blocks away, and then they can drive me there so I can make my own way home.”
“Some reporters might have cars to follow you,” Bruce said. “It would be safer to just remain in the car.”
“I think I can outmanoeuvre some reporters on my bike,” Dick said, a little flatly. “I want to go home, B. And I want to do it under my own volition.”
“I can’t promise that Jason won’t be waiting in your apartment for you,” Bruce said quietly. “Outside of locking him in the Cave, I won’t be able to stop him.”
For half a moment, Dick considered asking Bruce to do that very thing. “I’ll handle it myself,” he said instead. “But will you sort the security and the bike?”
“Yes, I’ll sort that for you,” Bruce said.
“Thank you,” Dick said. He hesitantly removed one of the hands cradling his own head and moved it to his shoulder. His fingers brushed against Bruce’s warm skin, and he realised with a soft jolt of surprise that Bruce had removed his gloves. “I’m sorry for ruining the gala,” he murmured.
Bruce’s warm hand gripped Dick’s tightly. “Don’t apologise,” Bruce said, low and firm. “We’re going to fix this, Dick. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”
Dick swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “Do you think I’m a gypsy thug?” he whispered.
“No,” Bruce said, his own voice suddenly tight. “Of course I don’t.”
“What do you think I am then?” Dick asked hoarsely.
“I think you’re my Romani son,” Bruce said immediately, his hand tightening so firmly around Dick’s that it almost hurt. “And I’ll do whatever I need to do to protect my son.”
Dick squeezed Bruce’s hand back. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. “I know that, B.”
For a while, they sat in silence. Bruce’s cape covered Dick’s body, his hand gripped Dick’s hand, and he never once asked Dick to uncover his head so that he could see him. He just sat with Dick in quiet steadiness; an anchor grounding him in turbulent seas.
But then the anchor faltered, and Bruce’s hand stiffened in Dick’s hold.
“Dick,” Bruce said, so quiet it was hard to hear. “What you shouted at him…” Bruce’s breath hitched ever so slightly. “I just… I need to know…” Bruce trailed off, clearly not quite able to put the question into words.
Dick had already told Bruce that he wouldn’t talk to Batman about this, but there was no part of him that could leave any part of Bruce stewing over this question. “You always protected me when I was a kid,” he murmured.
Bruce’s hand tightened. “I don’t ever remember losing sight of you,” he whispered.
“You didn’t,” Dick replied softly, squeezing Bruce’s hand back.
“And I don’t remember you seeing him outside of those galas,” Bruce said, his voice wavering slightly.
“I didn’t,” Dick murmured back.
There was another long stretch of silence, then Dick let go of Bruce’s hand. “No more questions,” he said. “The cops will notice the looped surveillance eventually. You should go.”
Bruce let out a long, quiet exhale. “You’re sure you don’t want me at the station when you’re released?”
“No,” Dick said.
“And you don’t want me at your apartment when you get back to Bludhaven?” Bruce asked.
“No,” Dick repeated.
“Can I call you?” Bruce asked, his hand still warm on Dick’s shoulder.
“You can call,” Dick said, returning his own hand to cradle his throbbing head. “And maybe I’ll pick up.”
Bruce sighed, but he didn’t argue. “I’m right here whenever you’re ready,” he said, reluctantly taking his hand away. He stood, and the warmth of the cape disappeared. Dick tried to pretend to himself that he didn’t miss it, but he still found himself curling in on himself tighter in a futile attempt to replace the warmth.
“You just need to ask, and I’ll help you,” Bruce said softly, and then there was a flutter of fabric and a door clicking shut.
Dick turned his face into the silk lining of his jacket, feeling it quickly grow sodden against his skin. Now that he was alone, he could let his soft, hitched breaths sound out into the room without fear that anyone would hear them. He could drift, slow and dazed. He could slip into a slumber neither sweet nor easy. He could wish away his reality and pretend that he was somewhere else complet-
“Get up, Grayson,” someone said loudly, their voice accompanied by a sharp rap of something hard against metal.
Dick startled awake, then immediately groaned and gripped his head tighter.
“Your lawyer’s here,” JJ said in a brusque voice. “You’re being released with a charge of simple assault. It’s a summons, so you’re free to go until your court date.”
With another quiet groan, Dick gripped his jacket and pulled it from his head. As soon as the newly appeared sunlight hit his eyes he reeled and screwed them up tight. “What?” he said hoarsely.
“You’re being let go,” JJ said, loud and slow. “Stand up, turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
“Why do I need to be cuffed if I’m being let go?” Dick croaked, squinting at JJ through the anvil repeatedly thudding down on his skull.
“It’s standard procedure,” JJ said irritatedly. “Don’t make me ask you again. Stand up, turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Dick slowly stumbled to his feet. He tried to shrug on his jacket, but found himself struggling to find the armholes.
“What’s wrong with you?” JJ asked, and Dick winced at his barked words.
“I have a headache,” he said hoarsely, finally finding one armhole and pulling his jacket half-on.
“Hm,” JJ said, sounding unimpressed. “Well, it’s probably not worth giving you painkillers now, because you’ll be out of here in the next fifteen minutes.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t want painkillers from you anyway,” Dick said, irritation colouring his tone more than he wanted it to. He finished putting the jacket on, then turned around and presented his hands behind his back.
When JJ fastened the cuffs, he did so far more roughly than he needed to. He yanked Dick’s arms back, then closed the metal until it bit into Dick’s wrists. Dick didn’t complain though, even when JJ grabbed his arm and suddenly pulled him towards the exit.
Dick stumbled along, feeling his head throb harder from the movement. As they walked along the hallway and past the room he’d been interrogated in, he realised that they were about to pass the holding cell. He squinted through the metal grate and saw Amir leaning back against the wall, looking exhausted.
“Amir,” he called out as JJ pulled him along. Amir’s eyes cracked open and found him. “Did Will get in contact?”
Amir nodded. “I’ve met with him,” he said, standing up and walking towards the holding cell’s frontage. “Thanks, Dick.”
“Don’t mention it,” Dick said, breathing a sigh of relief as he was forcibly pulled away.
“You’re just a regular old hero, aren’t you,” JJ said nastily, yanking Dick around a corner. “Helping the dregs of Gotham’s society.”
“Not the total dregs,” Dick said, squinting at JJ. “I haven’t helped you, have I?”
Dick paid for that one by JJ shoving him hard through the door into the bullpen and clearing his voice. “Phillips, here’s Grayson for you to process for release,” he called loudly across the room, making Dick give a quiet, pained groan as the words rattled through his pulsing skull.
Officer Phillips looked up from his desk, looking a little nonplussed at the volume of JJ’s voice. “Okay,” he called back. “Bring him over then.”
JJ pulled Dick through the bullpen and then pushed him hard into the chair. “Careful with this one,” he told Phillips. “He’s a troublemaker.”
“Oh, yeah?” Phillips said, not even looking at either of them. “Keep his cuffs on for now then.”
“Good call,” JJ said, before giving Dick a mean, little smile. “Goodbye, Mr Grayson.”
Dick just about bit back the urge to tell the cop to get fucked. Instead, he turned away from him completely and faced Phillips.
As JJ’s footsteps faded, Phillips glanced at Dick. “You arrived with one cellphone, one wallet, one set of keys, one watch, and one pocketknife, correct?” he asked.
“Correct,” Dick murmured, squinting at Phillips against the backlighting of the window behind him.
Phillips returned to his screen. “Your wallet had three hundred and ten dollars?” he asked.
“That sounds about right,” Dick said, giving up and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Plus two credit cards, one debit card, your driving license and a staff membership card for Bludhaven Tumble?” Phillips asked.
“Yep,” Dick said, wishing his hands were free solely so that he could cover his eyes with them.
There was the sound of clacking keys. “It’s our policy not to immediately release weapons,” Phillips said. “We’ll issue you a receipt and you’ll have to wait at least twenty four hours to pick up the pocketknife.”
“Fine,” Dick said, already mentally writing off the pocketknife in his head.
“JJ never got your mugshot last night, so we need to get it now,” Phillips said, standing up. He walked around the desk and grabbed Dick’s arm, pulling him up again.
“Great,” Dick said, trying not to sound too pained.
“Don’t worry, Mr Grayson,” Phillips said, steering him through the bullpen marginally less roughly than JJ. “I’m sure the camera will get your good side.”
As Dick stood holding the mugshot board, he considered that JJ may have purposefully delayed Dick’s mugshot just to ensure that Dick looked at his absolute worst for it. His eyes felt thick and puffy, and he knew that he couldn’t stop squinting through them. The first flash shot a white hot spear through his eyes, and the second twisted that spear cruelly. Giving a fairly pathetic whimper, Dick let the board hang down by his side as he used his other hand to cover his face. “Please say we don’t have to do that again,” he asked.
“Nope, you’re all good,” Phillips said, before he paused. “Headache?” he asked.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Dick said, squeezing his eyes shut.
“What a shame,” Phillips said, with all the sympathy of a brick wall. “Drop the board on the side.”
When they were back at Phillips’ desk, Dick was uncuffed for the stack of paperwork that landed in front of him. “This is to acknowledge the return of your property,” Phillips said, pointing at one stapled collection. “This is your summons,” he said, pointing to the next. “And this is to acknowledge that your court date will be mailed to you.” Phillips took his finger from the third stack and then shunted those three forms to the side. “You need to sign those,” he advised, before pointing at another pile of paperwork. “But you can take these home to read there. I would pay particular attention to the conditions of your release, which dictates that you must notify the court before you leave the state.”
“Got it,” Dick said, leaning forward. “Can I borrow a pen?”
Once Dick had signed everything he needed to sign, he shuffled in his seat and presented his wrists behind his back without Phillips needing to say a word. The cuffs closed over them, and then Phillips pulled him to his feet.
Dick let himself get pulled through the bullpen towards the secure doors that led out to the general public’s waiting area. As the doors opened, Dick saw Will sitting amongst a group of suited men.
“Mr Grayson, you’re free to go,” Phillips said, unlocking the cuffs for a final time and then presenting Dick with his paperwork and property bag. Without another word, he turned around and reentered the bullpen, letting the door swing closed behind him.
For a moment, Dick stared at the closed door. Then, he heard footsteps behind him.
“Dick,” Will said, and Dick turned around to him. “Are you okay?” Will asked, peering intently at Dick’s face.
“Headache,” Dick croaked hoarsely.
“We can get you some painkillers,” Will said, offering Dick a long coat that he gladly took. “Have you had any water recently?”
Dick shook his head. “I’ll have some later,” he said. “I just want to get out of here.”
“Okay,” Will said, looking behind himself at the small army of security men. “They’re here to escort you from the building.” He paused. “There’s quite a lot of press outside,” he said quietly.
“I figured,” Dick said, pulling the coat on and fastening it. He looked up at Will. “Is my motorbike nearby?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve got your keys here,” Will said, handing over a set of keys that Dick immediately pocketed. “Are you sure you don’t want them to drive you back to Bludhaven?” he asked, nodding his head at the security team. “You look like you’ve had a rough night.”
Dick shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “And I’ll feel even better when I’m on my bike.”
Will’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t argue. “Here are some sunglasses,” he said, handing over a pair with large lenses.
“I look that bad?” Dick quipped, but he shoved them on anyway. As soon as he did, he gave a quiet groan of relief at the reduced light. “Oh my god, that’s better,” he said.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the team,” Will said. He began to walk over to the security men, and Dick followed. “This is Dick,” he told the group. “As Mr Wayne already explained, your only objective is to get him to the car with minimal harassment from the reporters waiting outside. We’ll drive him to the preagreed location, and then he’ll get out and take his motorbike back to Bludhaven. Any questions?”
The group collectively shook their heads.
“Thanks for your help,” Dick said, still finding himself squinting even through the glasses. “It’s appreciated.”
“Of course, Mr Grayson,” one of the suited men said in a bland, respectful tone that somehow made Dick feel like shit.
Will looked at Dick. “I’ll be in touch later today to discuss your case,” he said, before his eyes flattened. “And if you don’t pick up your phone then I’ll drive over and knock on your door until you let me in,” he said.
“Got it,” Dick said tiredly. “I’ll pick up the phone.”
“Great,” Will said, before looking at the security men. “Let’s go.”
As they walked over to the GCPD’s exit, the men surrounded themselves around Dick. “Keep your head down and don’t respond to their questions,” one of the men on his right advised. “They might try to grab at you, but don’t respond. We’ll handle the physical part, okay?”
“Okay,” Dick said, wrapping his coat around himself tighter.
“Are you ready, Mr Grayson?” the man asked.
“Yep, I’m ready,” Dick said, while feeling anything but.
“It’s going to be loud,” the man warned, and then they began walking forward.
It turned out that ‘loud’ had been an understatement. As soon as the doors swung open, there was an instant clamor. A hundred questions came from a hundred different directions as a crowd surged in on all sides. The security men tightened around Dick, closing the gaps between them as they marched forward through the throng of people. Microphones, cameras and phones were thrust forwards, but the security men just batted them away. Dick could see a large black SUV parked just a few metres away, but it was taking them an age to actually get there.
“Get out the way,” the man directly in front of Dick barked, but his words didn’t seem to have much effect.
The noise grew louder and louder, and Dick’s headache grew more and more agonising in response. There were hands on his shoulders, one from two different men. They steered him through the crowd, keeping him in motion even when it seemed like the horde was too thick to pierce through.
Eventually, the SUV was within spitting distance. The men built a protective wall and opened the back door for Dick, who immediately slid inside. Will climbed in behind him, then the door shut. A moment later, the passenger door opened and a single security man climbed in. He turned to the waiting driver and nodded. “Let’s go,” he said.
The already-thrumming engine revved, and then the car began to slowly roll forward. The press were slow to part, but the driver just insistently drove on until a wide enough path cleared that he could pull out onto the road.
Dick turned to watch the still-shouting crowd of press disappear behind him. When the car turned a corner, he landed back in his seat with a thud. “What the fuck?” he said, vaguely shellshocked. He turned to Will. “How bad is the coverage?” he asked.
Will grimaced a little. “I wouldn’t look at it,” he advised.
“Give me the Cliff Notes,” Dick said.
“They’ve published photos of you being led from the manor in handcuffs,” Will said, looking back at him steadily. “And ones of you in the back of the cop car. But…” he trailed off, then gave another grimace. “Someone filmed the tailend of the assault with their phone,” he said quietly. “It’s gone viral, Dick. I’m sorry.”
Dick blinked. “Oh,” he said, the word coming as if from a million miles away. “Has… has anyone reported what I said?” he asked.
“No,” Will said, not taking his eyes from Dick. “It’s potentially libellous, so they haven’t printed it.”
“Right,” Dick said faintly, sinking down in his seat. “So, it just looks like I attacked him completely unprovoked for no reason at all?”
Will’s silence spoke volumes.
“Well, I guess that’s why they were making such a fuss,” Dick murmured, letting his eyes slide closed behind the sunglasses that he hadn’t taken off yet. “How far away are we from my bike?”
“Another couple of blocks,” Will said.
“Great,” Dick said dully. He forcibly opened his eyes and handed over the thick stack of paperwork he’d been given to Will. “Here. You’re probably better off with this than me.”
Will took the papers without a word, idly flicking through them as Dick ripped open the property bag. “Fuck, my phone’s almost dead,” Dick said frustratedly. He would have preferred to do this when he was already alone, but he couldn’t afford to wait now. He dialled in a number and held it to his ear.
The ringtone only sounded out for a couple of seconds before the line clicked open. “Dick,” Jason said in a tone of abject relief. “Thank god. Are you okay?”
“Are you at my apartment right now?” Dick asked quietly.
“Yeah, I’m waiting for you here,” Jason said. “I know you told Bruce that you didn’t want me here, but-”
“I need you to leave,” Dick said, staring blankly at the back of the seat in front of him. “I want to be alone, Jay.”
There was a beat of silence. “Dick, I don’t think you should be alone right now,” Jason said cautiously. “You need to sleep. Let me stay with you for a couple of days until the worst of this is over.”
“If you don’t leave the apartment, I won’t go back there,” Dick said softly. “I’ll drive myself somewhere remote where none of you will find me. I want to be by myself. Please leave.”
The silence lasted longer this time. “Do you realise that you do this every time?” Jason asked quietly. “The moments when you need the most help are the same moments when you push everyone away.”
Dick let out a slow release of breath. “Are you leaving?” he asked.
Jason gave an irritated sigh. “Yes, you asshole, I’m leaving,” he said. “Once again, I’m gonna leave you alone during one of the worst periods of your life, because that’s what you want.”
“Yeah,” Dick said. “It is.”
“You’ve got a problem, you know that, Dick?” Jason snapped down the phone. “You stupid, avoidant fuck.”
“Noted,” Dick said. “See you later, Jay.” Before Jason could reply, Dick hung up the phone and shoved it in his pants pocket. He looked over at Will. “Is there a motorbike helmet in the car?” he asked.
“It’s in the back with a bike jacket,” Will said. His eyes rested heavily on Dick as he leaned into the trunk of the car and picked up the helmet and jacket. “Is everything okay with your brother?” he asked lightly.
“It’s fine,” Dick grunted, landing back on the seat and shedding the coat Will had given him. He pulled the motorbike jacket on and then shoved his wallet, apartment keys and watch inside one of the pockets. “Are we almost there?” he asked, leaning forward and looking out the front of the car.
“It’s at the end of this block,” Will said.
“Great,” Dick said, feeling his foot tap repetitively against the floor of the car. He shed the sunglasses and instantly squinted against the new flood of light.
“Make sure you get some painkillers,” Will said insistently. “Don’t drive all the way back to Bludhaven when your headache is that bad.”
“It’s fine,” Dick murmured, drumming his fingers on his helmet as he stared out the front window. When he saw the familiar profile of his Kawasaki, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. He looked at Will. “Thanks for everything,” he said. “And I’m sorry again about your daughter’s recital.”
Before Will could reply, Dick leaned forward into the front of the car. “Thank you for your help,” he said. “Can you drop me here?”
“Of course, Mr Grayson,” the driver said, pulling over to the side of the road. “Have a good day.”
As soon as the car stilled, Dick shoved his helmet on his head and got out of the car. He shut the door quietly behind himself, but that level of care did nothing to stop the loud rumble of midday traffic on the busy main road. He gripped the motorbike keys in his hand and jogged over to the bike, ignoring the pulse of pain with each step. As Dick swung his leg over, he could see the SUV lingering on the road behind him in one of the wing mirrors. He didn’t look back to acknowledge it though. He just turned the engine over, lifted up the kickstand and instantly pulled away into the traffic.
As Dick wove through the cars, he could feel a little ball of something dark and frightened grow in his chest. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he spoke into the safety of the bike helmet. “I’m the biggest fucking moron that’s ever fucking existed. What the fuck is wrong with me?” Dick revved the bike and accelerated past a family carrier. “Get a grip, you stupid piece of shit,” he spat at himself.
Despite his own helpful advice, Dick couldn’t quite seem to get a hold on his emotions. They were running rampant through his body, trampling over any semblance of common sense and leaving him feeling like a soda can that was all shaken up with nowhere to go.
The drive passed in a surreal blur. The high rise buildings bled into decrepit warehouses, which faded into the long bridge that connected Gotham to the mainland. Dick felt his eyes threaten to slide to the vast expanse of water that stretched out beyond the bridge’s side. He imagined what it would feel like to rev his bike until it pulled up onto its rear wheel, drive up the car carrier next to him, and then soar out over the bridge’s barrier into the open air. For a moment, he would fly. And then, like his parents, he would fall.
It wouldn’t matter what degree of assault he was charged with then. His body would be freed from the legal binds that trapped it, and his mind would be freed of the cold lips that plagued it.
Still, Dick could imagine Jason being pissed off enough to drag him to a Lazarus Pit, so he figured he’d put a pin in careening into a melodramatic suicide for now.
When Dick finally drove through the Bludhaven city limits, he expected to feel better. But he didn’t. The dark, frightened pit in his stomach didn’t disappear, and neither did his increasingly excruciating headache. As Dick wound through the Bludhaven streets, he found his traitorous mind repeating a little wish over and over again; I hope Jason didn’t listen to me.
But when Dick finally cracked open his apartment door, he immediately discovered that Jason had. Telling himself that he didn’t feel a single ounce of disappointment, Dick shut his front door behind himself and locked it. He let his helmet thud onto the floor, then his jacket joined it a moment later. Dick kicked off the dress shoes he’d been wearing for far too long, and immediately vowed to never wear the stupid things again. He made a beeline for his kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.
As he chugged it, he told himself to slow down before he threw it all up again. But it was hard to stop when he’d barely drunk anything since before Bruce’s gala had begun the evening before. When the glass was drained dry, Dick immediately filled it up again. But this time he flung his medication cupboard open and fumbled through it for his pain meds. He skipped over any that he knew made him drowsy, selecting the strongest of the ones left over. Popping two, Dick swallowed them with a few more giant gulps of water.
With a quiet groan, Dick rested his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes. “What a fucking night,” he told his empty apartment.
Every atom of Dick was pulling him towards his bed, but he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t shower off hours of GCPD holding cell from himself first.
When he was standing under the blisteringly hot spray, Dick turned his face into it and lost himself in its thundering assault. His fingers found the familiar ridges of Rawling’s bitemark on his thigh, and then he felt his face crumple. “It isn’t fair,” he whispered, the sound caught in the shower and disappearing instantly down the drain. “It isn’t fair.”
It was an age later that Dick found the energy to punch off the shower. He roughly towelled himself off, now steadfastly ignoring the brands on his right pectoral, right thigh, left asscheek.
He walked slowly through his apartment with his towel wrapped around his hips. His headache had been somewhat dulled by the painkillers, but he was still squinting against the light streaming through his windows. Despite the desire to just fall into his bed, Dick didn’t sleep in just his underwear like he’d always used to. After all, when family appearances through his bedroom window weren’t uncommon, he no longer had the luxury of walking around his own apartment shirtless. For all the gunshots, stab wounds, bruises and contusions he’d ever had, it was the unmistakable mark of human teeth permanently indented in his skin that had finally made Dick self-conscious.
Dick pulled on a clean, but rumpled white t-shirt and a pair of light pyjama pants. Then he plugged his phone in to charge on his nightstand and collapsed heavily onto his bed. As he pulled his covers over his head, he found himself having the childish thought that if he just wished hard enough, it would all go away.
For the first time in months, when Dick closed his eyes in his own bed, he slipped immediately away. He slept deep and dreamlessly, cradled in a soft, protective darkness for what felt like hours and hours.
When a distant buzzing broke through the thick cloud of slumber, Dick groaned unhappily. He reached for his phone and blindly answered it. “What?” he mumbled.
“It’s Will,” Will’s voice came. “Sorry, Dick. Did I wake you?”
“S’fine,” Dick said, trying to stifle a yawn. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to check in,” Will said, before pausing. “Bruce said that you asked him not to visit.”
“Yeah, I want to be alone,” Dick said, blinking sleep from his eyes and glancing at his alarm clock. “You’re calling late,” he said. “Shouldn’t you have clocked off by now?”
“A lawyer never clocks off,” Will said drily, but then his tone became a little more concerned. “Have you been staying offline?” he asked.
“Will, I got back to my apartment, had a shower and then went straight to sleep,” Dick said. “This is the first time I’ve even touched my phone since I left the car.”
“Okay, that’s good,” Will said, sounding a little too relieved. “Keep it that way, okay?”
“Got it,” Dick said, finding another yawn breaking through. “Anything else?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Will?” Dick prompted.
“Rawling Winthrop’s lawyer has got in touch,” Will said slowly. “They’ve got a proposal for us.”
Dick frowned. “A proposal?” he asked. “What kind of proposal?”
“I don’t know,” Will said. “His lawyer said that they’ll only discuss it in person.” He paused. “They want you there as well. They won’t tell me anything if you aren’t in the room.”
“Have you told Bruce?” Dick asked, his finger curling into his sheets.
“No. Legally, I can’t tell Bruce anything,” Will reminded him.
Dick breathed for a moment. “I’ll go on my own,” he said.
“No, Dick,” Will said firmly. “I can’t let you do that. Do not go into a private meeting with Rawling Winthrop and his lawyer without me.”
“I don’t think you have a choice in the matter,” Dick said, a little amused despite everything. “That’s my decision, Will. You don’t have any way to twist my arm on this.”
“Dick, I’m being exceedingly serious with you right now,” Will said. “Do not, for the love of God, meet them without me. Even aside from having me there from a legal standpoint, don’t you think it would be a bad idea for you to be alone in a room with a man you assaulted, his lawyer and no other witnesses?”
Dick paused. “That’s an annoyingly good point,” he said reluctantly.
“I make them occasionally,” Will said, sounding beyond relieved that Dick was listening to him.
“When does he want to meet?” Dick asked.
“At your earliest convenience,” Will said. “They suggested tomorrow.”
“No, not tomorrow,” Dick said, for no reason other than the fact that he wasn’t at Rawling Winthrop’s beck and call. “Tell them I can do the day after.”
“Okay,” Will said. “And… you’ll let me come with you?”
Dick sighed heavily. “Fine,” he said. “Sure.”
“Good,” Will said firmly. “I always knew you were a smart kid.”
“Despite all evidence to the contrary?” Dick quipped dully.
“You are a smart kid,” Will said quietly. “Even smart kids do dumb things sometimes.”
“Hn,” Dick said, flopping back onto his mattress. “I think this was particularly dumb, Will.”
Will was silent for a moment. “I’ve never known you to do anything without a good reason,” he said eventually.
“Hn,” Dick said again.
Will gave a soft laugh. “Do you realise that you sound exactly like your father when you do that?” he asked.
Dick felt a smile grow despite himself. “Well, there’s no need to be rude, Will,” he said.
Will snorted. “I’ll tell him you said that,” he said.
“I think it’s covered under attorney-client privilege,” Dick said, listening to Will laugh again. “Hey, Will?”
“Yeah?” Will said.
Dick frowned at his ceiling. “What do you think the proposal is?” he asked. “What’s your best guess?”
“My best guess?” Will said, before taking a quiet inhale. “Honestly, I think it’s going to be some kind of NDA.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Dick said quietly.
“But NDAs can’t prevent someone from disclosing criminal activity,” Will said lightly. “So, no matter what he’s proposing, there’s nothing that would ever stop you from going to the police if he’s broken the law.”
Dick considered the brutal beating he’d doled out in Rawling’s own home. The broken jaw. The nose bent permanently out of shape. Ribs cracked and bruised. A sharp line drawn by a vicious knife all the way down one side of his face. “No, an NDA wouldn’t stop me,” Dick murmured, closing his eyes as he was left awash in a heady sting of regret.
Will was silent for a moment. “I’m your lawyer, Dick,” he said quietly. “If you need to tell me something, it’s better to tell me sooner rather than later.” He paused. “Especially if we’re going to be entering into some kind of negotiation.”
With a quiet sigh, Dick opened his eyes and stared up at his blank ceiling again. “There’s nothing to tell,” he said. “You’re a busy guy, Will. You must need to get going.”
For a moment, Dick thought Will was going to argue. But he just sighed. “Okay, I’ll head off. I’ll be in touch with the details of the meeting.”
“Thanks, Will,” Dick said. “Hey, can you apologise to your daughter on my behalf?”
Will made a surprised, strangely fond noise. “Yeah, okay,” he said.
“Tell her that your client is an idiot,” Dick advised. “But that her dad saved his ass.”
“I might not phrase it that way exactly,” Will snorted. “But I appreciate the sentiment, Dick. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Dick said quietly. “See you later, Will.”
“Goodbye, Dick,” Will replied.
When the line went dead, Dick let the hand holding his phone fall away to his bed. He let out a slow breath as he worked up the courage to actually check his phone for the first time in over twenty four hours. With a grimace, he lifted his phone back to his face and immediately winced at a lock screen filled with what looked like hundreds of notifications. There were messages and missed calls from almost all of his friends and family, dating from the day before to just fifteen minutes prior. Dick opened his messages folder and marked them all as read without opening a single one. Then he went to his missed calls. Anyone not in Gotham, he ignored. But the calls from Tim and Damian were a little more pressing. After all, it was a fucking miracle that Bruce had been able to contain them in Gotham for this long.
Dick stared at the two numbers, trying to decide which one would be least painful. In the end, he closed his eyes, jabbed at his screen and lifted the phone to his ear. He listened to the ringtone chirp for one single round before the line clicked open.
“Dick, are you okay?” Tim’s voice came down the line, frantic and a little louder than usual. “What the hell is going on? Can I come to Bludhaven and see you? I’m on patrol right now, but I can be there in half an hour. Maybe even twenty minutes if I hitch a ride on top of the train.”
“I’m fine,” Dick said quietly. “I just want some time alone, Tim.”
“Why?” Tim said, both baffled and exasperated. “Jesus Christ, Dick. None of us have any idea what’s going on. You just punched Rawling Winthrop in the middle of a gala, got carted off to the GCPD, refused your lawyer, and then told Bruce that you didn’t want to see any of us. Not to mention the fact that your blood came back clean for any kind of toxins. So, unless you’re under some kind of mind control, all your wildly confusing actions have been under your own volition.” Tim paused for a moment. “Are you under some kind of mind control?” he asked.
“If I was, I probably wouldn’t tell you, would I?” Dick pointed out. When Tim took a sharp intake of breath to reply, Dick hurriedly continued. “Look, I’m fine, Tim. I’m not mind-controlled. I’m just an idiot.”
“Why did you try to prevent Will from helping?” Tim pressed.
“I just told you,” Dick said. “I’m an idiot.”
“Why did you punch Rawling?” Tim asked, his voice climbing higher.
“I refer you back to my previous answer,” Dick said.
“Why don’t you want to see me- to see us?” Tim asked, fumbling over his words in a way that made Dick’s heart twinge with guilt.
“Because I need some time alone,” Dick said quietly. “When I’m ready, I’ll come by the manor and see you. I promise.”
“Why aren’t you here now?” Tim asked, sounding young in a way he rarely did. “We could help you, Dick. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Tim’s words echoed down the call, and Dick closed his eyes. “I want to do it alone,” he said. “This isn’t a burden I want to share.”
“Why not?” Tim asked, a note of pleading worming into his voice. “Let me help, Dick. I can hack into his computer, or tap his phone, or-”
“No,” Dick said, his stomach leaping up to his throat. “No, don’t you dare do that, Tim.”
Tim paused, and Dick could hear his heart thudding in his ears in the silence.
“How do you think that’ll look if he discovers that someone’s been spying on him?” Dick said, trying to erase the image of Tim finding the mountain of evidence that Rawling had surely collected of Dick’s first, far more violent assault. “It’s already been pled down to simple assault. I’ll get a fine and community service at worst. It’s going to be fine, Tim. If you interfere, you could make it worse.”
“Dick, I don’t know if you’ve been online, but they’re raking you over the coals,” Tim said, quiet and urgent. “None of the major outlets are reporting what you called him. Montgomery must have some pretty influential press contacts. They’re just painting you out as this- as this thug that attacked unprovoked.”
“I did attack unprovoked, Tim,” Dick said hollowly. “I think I am a thug.”
Silence stretched down the line.
“Dick, I think I should come over,” Tim said, his voice newly strained. “I think you need your family around you.”
“No, I don’t want you here,” Dick said blankly. “I don’t want any of you here. All I’m going to do is fall back asleep.”
There was another pause. “So… you’re sleeping now?” Tim asked. “Now that you’ve punched Rawling, you’re able to sleep?”
Sometimes Dick really hated how fucking smart Tim was. “I expended a lot of adrenaline yesterday,” he tried. “I think I’m just crashing.”
“Right,” Tim said slowly, sounding completely unconvinced.
“Look, I’ll be in Gotham the day after tomorrow,” Dick said. “I’ll try to swing by the manor, okay?”
“You’ll try?” Tim asked.
“Yes,” Dick said flatly. “I’ll try.”
Tim didn’t speak for a moment. Dick could hear wind buffeting the microphone in a way that suggested that Red Robin was stationed somewhere high up in Gotham’s skyline.
“Fine,” Tim bit out. “But you’d better try real hard, Dick. Because if I don’t see you on Monday, then I really will come to Bludhaven myself.”
Dick let out a silent groan. “Okay,” he said out loud. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Call me if you need me,” Tim said firmly. “I’ll drop everything for you, Dick. You know that.”
Despite his frustration, Dick felt his heart soften. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. “I love you, Timmy.”
“I love you too,” Tim said. “You idiot,” he added.
Dick gave a soft huff of laughter. “I can’t disagree with that assessment,” he said. “Talk to you soon.”
“Bye, Dick,” Tim said quietly, and then Dick hung up the line.
Dick gave himself a single moment of reprieve before he clicked on the other name. Predictably, Damian answered in a similarly quick fashion as Tim.
“Richard?” Damian said, quiet and unsure.
“Hey, Dami,” Dick said, feeling a small smile break over his face just at the sound of Damian’s voice. “How are you doing?”
“How am I doing?” Damian asked, sounding a little baffled. “That’s obviously of no concern. How are you doing?”
“It’s always of concern to me,” Dick said. As he fiddled with his covers, he sighed. “But I’m doing okay. You don’t need to worry.”
“Richard…” Damian trailed off. “Your behaviour has been… difficult to understand over the past twenty four hours.”
Dick closed his eyes briefly. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. “But I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to shed any more light on it for you.”
There was a moment of silence.
“But I really am okay,” Dick said, opening his eyes and staring up at his ceiling. “I’m back at home and I’m getting some rest.”
More silence.
“I just need some time alone,” Dick continued carefully. “But it won’t be long and then I’ll be back at the manor to annoy you like usual.”
The silence continued.
Dick fiddled with his covers a little faster. “Dami?” he asked.
“Why do you want to be alone?” Damian asked. “You won’t even let Jason come see you, and he’s the one that’s been helping with your insomnia.” Damian paused. “That you didn’t tell anyone else about,” he added a little pointedly.
Dick grimaced at his ceiling. “I just prefer to be alone for things like this,” he said vaguely. “And- and I didn’t purposefully keep my insomnia from anyone else, I just…” Dick trailed off as he tried to think of a good excuse. “I just didn’t think it was a big deal,” he landed on, then immediately winced. Still, he’d committed himself now. “We’re all sleep deprived. I just figured no one would want to hear me whine about it.”
Damian’s silence was overwhelmingly unimpressed now. “Except Jason?” he asked flatly.
“I was very tired when I told Jason,” Dick said, sinking down into his covers with a pained expression. “I’m not sure I entirely knew what I was doing.”
There was more silence. Then, Damian took a hesitant intake of breath. “Do you see how we might find your behaviour concerning, Richard?” he asked.
Dick closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do. But I really am fine. It’s all going to be fine. My charges got downgraded to simple assault, I just slept for nine hours straight and I’m pretty sure I’m going to sleep the whole night through as well.” Dick paused and attempted to inject some lightheartedness into his voice. “Things are looking up, Dami,” he tried.
Damian’s silence was beyond baffled now, and Dick winced again.
“Richard,” Damian said quietly. “Are you sure I can’t help you?”
Dick swallowed thickly. “Do you know how you can help me?” he asked.
“How?” Damian asked immediately. “I’ll do anything.”
Dick smiled painfully at that. “I’d love to hear about your day,” he said, a little hoarsely.
“My day?” Damian said hesitantly.
“Yeah,” Dick said, trying to will away the sudden lump in his throat. “Tell me about your day. Spare no details.”
“And that will help?” Damian asked, sounding unconvinced.
“More than anything in the world,” Dick promised. “It would make me very happy.”
“Okay,” Damian said slowly. “Well… if you say so.”
Over the next hour, Damian chattered away in Dick’s ear. He tactfully left out the frantic conversations that Dick’s actions must have spurred within the manor, instead focusing solely on beautiful mundanity. Dick listened to Damian’s tales of feeding his horde of animals, of mucking out Batcow’s stall, of doing his algebra homework. He gave soft laughs when Damian snarked at equations he deemed too simple for toddlers, and he gave thoughtful hums when Damian pondered the potential benefits of changing Titus’ joint supplements.
As Damian spoke, Dick felt his eyes grow heavy. He let them slide closed and pulled his covers up to his chin.
“Are you still awake?” Damian asked at one point.
“Of course,” Dick mumbled with a smile. “I’d never fall asleep when you’re talking to me.”
“Tt,” Damian said, before continuing his explanation of why exactly oil paints were preferable to acrylic.
With the gentle murmur of his baby brother in Dick’s ear, things didn’t seem quite as bad. They certainly seemed better than they had when awakening in a GCPD holding cell, anyway. He felt his breath begin to even out in a telltale way and resolved to quietly interrupt Damian and say goodbye soon. Not quite yet though, he told himself. Maybe at the end of this story…
When Dick breathed himself awake, his phone was still pressed to his ear, but Damian’s voice was gone. He blinked several times, then looked at his screen. There was just one message there this time, and it was from Bruce. He clicked it open.
Thank you for reaching out to Tim and Damian. I’m going to call you in the morning. If you’re ready to pick up, then I’ll be right here to listen to whatever you want to say. Please let us help you, Dick. Sleep well, and I hope we can talk tomorrow.
Dick read over the message a couple of times, then let his phone drop down onto the mattress. Closing his eyes again, he blindly reached over to his nightstand and switched off the lamp he’d accidentally left on before. Darkness descended, and Dick curled himself up on his side, burying himself under his covers.
As almost all of his body laid protected under the comforter, Dick extended his right hand out along the mattress. He furled his fingers slowly into a fist, feeling the distant echo of a warm hilt pressed into his palm.