Chapter Text
“I cannot believe your bladder couldn’t handle a simple interrogation.” Robin said, crane overlooking Bay 14. Nightwing had taken point, watching the dockyard with the Bat-Binoculars, in front. All of them balanced on a large high crane overlooking the dock below them.
“I didn’t have to go then! What do you want from me? To got to the bathroom in a Bat diaper like you!?” Bluejay replied.
“I don’t have a Bat diaper!” Robin hissed.
Bluejay blinked, scoffed. “Oh really now?”
“Focus.” Nightwing said. “Wow, I can’t believe I said that.” he mumbled to himself. “I used to the quipping guy…Ï used to not have to be the responsible one…all the time…”
"What are you muttering about?" Robin asked, peering over his own Robin Bat-Binoculars.
"I think Dad's having an existential crisis." Bluejay said solemnly pacing around the crane, just fifteen minutes ago, she’s been hanging upside down, making Robin swat her down.
"No ‘Dad’s’ in the field." Robin scolded.
"Fine, i think Nightwing is having an existential crisis." Bluejay corrected, leaning over Nightwing’s shoulder. Her chin resting on it for a few minutes, it made her cheeks look exactly, cheeky, like a pouty grumpy puppy. “Anything? Its been a an hour, is the shipment late?”
“Or they got tipped off, and changed the day. Don’t worry, we got here early, its not 2am yet, we just haven't see a ship, yet.” Nightwing said, noticing how restless Bluejay was. He understood. She was used to short, fast missions, target acquired, objective completed type. The kind where there was minimal emotional investment, high risk, high reward. She wasn’t used to the waiting, the anticipation. It was all still new to her. The ‘slow’ work. He gently massaged her hair, feeling the slight tension there. “Just relax, the waiting game matters.”
“I forgot how irritating you can be when you get bored.” Robin grumbled at the same time.
“She’s not irritating.” Nightwing said calmly. “Its just new. And she’s bored, likely because she doesn’t understand-”
“I understand. I’m not a kid.” Bluejay mumbled halfheartedly.
Nightwing smiled again. “C’mere, let me show you something.” he said softly, patting the ledge beside him.
Bluejay sat down next to him, her legs swinging slightly in the cool night air. Nightwing handed her the Bat-Binoculars. “Okay, don’t just look for the ship. Look at the dock. Tell me what you see.”
She raised them, needing to use two hands to grasp it properly, Nightwing gently guiding her gaze to the right section of the stacked containers. “I see…containers. Puddles. A forklift. Some guy in a hut drinking coffee.”
“Good. Now, tell me what you see that’s out of place. Compare it to how it should be. What’s different?”
She frowned, her eyebrow’s furrowing a little. “The…the forklift. It’s not in the spot marked on the city plans. It’s been moved. But…that’s normal right? They’re preparing for the shipment”
“Okay, good,” Nightwing said. “They’re getting ready. Think of it like, they’re setting the stage. The coffee guy in the hut? His shift changed twenty minutes ago. The new guy is more alert. He’s checked his watch four times. They’re not late. They’re precise. The drop with move fast. Everyone here needs to be on their A game. What else do you see?”
Bluejay raised the lenses again, scanning docks. “Uh…cranes. A seagull trying to murder a chip bag. Someone smoking, but they’re putting the cigarette butt in a tissue and then in their pocket. Bit strange, but better than throwing it in the ocean or something.”
“Good. Now, what should be there at 1:36 AM on a shipping dock that isn’t?”
She paused, lowering the binoculars, clearly thinking very hard. “Workers. Their should be more workers and longshoremen. Even for a graveyard shift, there should be a skeleton crew for general maintenance, security rounds…but it’s empty. Cleared out.”
“Yes, good job. And what does that tell us?” Nightwing prompted.
“They did get tipped off,” Bluejay murmured, shoulders slumping. “We messed up.”
“No. We didn’t mess up. Tipped off? Maybe. Or it tells us their security is even tighter than we thought. They cleared the legitimate workers out well in advance to minimize witnesses. That’s a sign of professionalism and paranoia. It means they’re taking this extremely seriously.” He pointed a gloved finger toward the far end of the adjacent bay. “Now, watch the shadow between that container and the electrical substation. Not the space, the shadow itself.”
Bluejay lifted the binoculars again, Nightwing gently directing them again. “I don’t see anything.” Bluejay said. “Wait…” she blinked watching closely. For a moment, nothing. Then, the shadow moved. It resolved into a figure in dark tactical gear, shifting weight from one foot to the other. A perimeter sentry they’d missed. The sentry moved back into the shadows.
“Whoa. I didn’t see that at first.” Bluejay mumbled.
“The guy with the cigarette in the pocket, means he’s cautious, he can’t have any butts around, which can mean two things. One, product is flammable or might react with the cigarette somehow. Or two, he can’t risk any DNA at the scene.”
“Huh…”
Nightwing smiled softly, ruffling her hair a little. Waiting isn’t passive, bug. It’s the most active part. You’re learning the rhythm of the place so that when the beat changes—” he pointed suddenly as two unmarked, black vans silently rolled into the far end of the yard, headlights off, “—you hear it immediately.”
Bluejay’s eyes widened. “The vans…”
“The ground half of the swap,” Robin confirmed, moving behind them, before putting his binoculars back to his eyes. “Right on time. The ship will be here in fifteen minutes. They are establishing their perimeter first.”
“They didn’t get tipped off.” Bluejay said happily.
Nightwing watched the men get out of the vans ---four from each van, armed. They moved around doing the obvious routine checks.
“See?” Nightwing said, pointing them out of Bluejay. “The pieces are all where they’re supposed to be. Now we wait for them to start the dance. And then…” He reached back, the familiar weight of his escrima sticks a comfort. “We cut in.”
“Woah.” Bluejay said still glued to the binoculars. “That’s a fancy car. Look!” Bluejay said. Nightwing’s head snapped toward where Bluejay was pointing. Robin’s lens swiveled with a soft whir.
“What car even is that?” Bluejay asked
“A Rolls-Royce Cullinan.” Robin said. “From the looks of it. That is not standard issue for dock foremen. Target of interest has arrived.”
“Or the buyer,” Nightwing said. “The shipment must be more valuable than we thought, or the deal exceptionally fragile. They’re not just moving product.”
Two men in suits that cost more than Dick’s fridge emerged first, scanning the area before opening the rear passenger door.
The man who stepped out was in his late forties, with silver-streaked hair and a heavy wool overcoat. Bluejay made a noise under her breath. “He’s armed. No one would wear a coat like that in this weather. Its why too warm for fur and wool's and stuff. Unless he came in from Gotham.”
“Got a visual on the VIP,” Nightwing whispered, tapping his mask to capture a facial-recognition scan. “Running ID.”
“I know him,” Robin said. “His name’s Victor Sionis. Black Mask’s nephew. He is from Gotham. He used to handle high-end imports for the family. Art. Antiquities. If they’ve got their hands into pharmaceuticals…”
“If he’s here, there’s a chance synthesized Prometheus is on that ship or in that truck. Right?” Bluejay asked. “Right?
“Yes.” Nightwing said. “Okay, here’s the new pla--”
"Oh, look another fancy car...woah, that's a big man, how did he fit in that car!? " Bluejay said, leaning forward to see even with the binoculars. Nightwing automatically holding the back of her uniform.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Nightwing hissed.
The second vehicle was a heavily modified, armored SUV. No plates. The door opened, a man getting out of it.
“Anatoli Knyazev,” Nightwing breathed.
“KGBeast?” Bluejay whispered, glancing at Nightwing. KGBeast. Everyone knew his name. He had been out of game, apparently retired after he shot Nightwing in the head.
“The very same. Retired, supposedly. Or freelancing.” Nightwing said. Bluejay paused, still staring at her dad. Was he…okay? He looked stiffer than usual.
“Sionis bringing in heavy international muscle like Knyazev isn't just about security for a drug deal.” Nightwing mumbled. “This is bigger than we thought.”
On the dock, Victor Sionis gave Knyazev a respectful nod. Knyazev returned it with a slight tilt of his head, his eyes—barely visible in the shadow—swept the dockyard. Bluejay knew those looks. He was checking distances, angles, kill zones and most importantly potential blind spots. Nightwing automatically pulled them back just a little, his grip had tightened on the back of her uniform.
“Plan just got heavier,” Robin said. “The Beast changes the variables. He will not be disoriented by simple flash and sound. He will escalate to lethal force immediately.”
“Okay-” Bluejay said. “So--”
“We don’t fight him,” Nightwing said instantly.
“Aw man…” Bluejay mumbled.
“We don’t even get seen by him.” Nightwing said. “Our window just got smaller. The diversion needs to be bigger, faster, and elsewhere. We draw the guards and Knyazev’s attention to---”
"Another car!? What is happening?" Bluejay said, Nightwing holding her around the middle as she leaned further to look, with the Bat Binoculars. "Woah, this guy is huge! Huge, huge, Massive like…like a brick or...gorilla? Gorilla brick-"
"Blockbuster." Nightwing hissed.
"How are these people fitting in these tiny tiny cars?!” Bluejay whispered.
“Blockbuster,” Nightwing repeated, his grip if possible tighening on Bluejay’s uniform. Roland Desmond. The ultimate Blüdhaven boogeyman..
“This is a conclave,” Robin hissed. “Sionis provides the distribution network and the high-end clientele. KGBeast provides international enforcement and connections. Blockbuster provides the city. Likely the area of the drug synthesis. They are not just moving a shipment. They are forming a syndicate.”
On the dock, Victor Sionis looked like a polite accountant next to the others. KGBeast gave Blockbuster a nod in greeting. Blockbuster greeted him back, his eyes scanning the docks.
“So what do we do?” Bluejay whispered.
“KGBeast." Nightwing mumbled. KGBeast. The memory was a phantom pressure at his temple, a flash of white-hot pain and the smell of gunpowder and blood. And black. A shot that should have killed him. A shot that left him without memory for months, living a half-life, a drifter, a man whom would never have bought a turquoise Betty fridge in a million years.
"Victor Sionis.” Nephew of Black Mask, likely a piece of work on a good day.
"Roland Desmond." A constant, grinding pressure, corruption that ran deep. A fight with no end.
And then he looked at Mary.
Not Bluejay.
Not the almost Talon.
Not the assassin that had murdered people all over the world and nearly killed Damian upon setting eyes on him.
He didn’t see the capable, clever assassin, the child solider role she’s been forced into since she was born and was only just starting to be a kid.
No.
He saw the little girl whom had curled in the edge of her holding cell in the Batcave. The girl with no name, and was all scars and bones, with sallow skin and haunted eyes.
He saw the little girl in the Batcave months later, dressed in a purple onesie Stephanie brought her holding his his hand shyly, and hugged carefully. The little girl whom tried to practice some of his old training moves and sulked when she fell down. Whom practiced writing her name over and over again since she was so excited to have one.
He saw the little girl whom, crawled into his bed to sleep since she had a nightmare, since Talon she was scared to sleep alone.
He saw his little girl. His baby, who still needed a nightlight, who got excited about dinosaur nuggets, and fun-shaped ice cubes. Whom slept with his stuffed elephant and ‘brushed’ her everyday so Zitka would be clean.
His baby blue. His Mary.
She was perched beside him. The massive bat-tech binoculars were comically huge in her hands, she needed both hands to hold, all her focus to keep steady. She was studying the monsters below. Her legs swung a soft back and forth not enough to be noticeable if she hadn’t been doing it for so long. She wasn’t Bluejay. She was a child playing spy, whom had no idea of the dangers below.
Not like he did.
This wasn’t playing on Gotham gargoyles. This wasn’t some small time thugs, kitten rescues or an interrogation from some lowlife with at least some sense or morals. This was his city’s big league converging in one place. And his little girl, with her dinosaur ice trays and fear of bad dreams, was sitting in the cross-hairs.
And he brought her here.
No. No. He lost her before he knew she was born. He near lost her again to Deathstroke. Then nearly to Cobb and Talon. No. Not again. Not her.
This wasn't her fight. Not this one. Not against these men. This was a gathering of sharks, and he had brought his cute little minnow into the water, thinking she was a piranha. They eat her alive. He’d been so focused on teaching her, on including her, on being a partner, that he’d forgotten his first, most important job: to be a wall between her and the world’s worst horrors. Be her dad.
“Nightwing?” Mary said, touching his shoulder. “Dad?”
The word snapped him out of his thoughts. In one fluid movement, he grabbed the binoculars out of her hands, scooping her up with one arm, like ] he would have Alfred the Cat. Mary made a noise of mild surprise.
“We’re leaving,” Dick said.
“What? But the thermite, the plan—” Bluejay started, wriggling a little. In the faint light, he could see the excited, determined gleam in her eye. No. No. No.
“The mission is aborted.” He began packing the equipment with swift, final motions. “Robin, fall back to the extraction point. Now.”
“Grayson, this is—” Robin started.
“An order,” Dick cut in sharply. “This is not a debate. We are not engaging. We are leaving. That is the mission.”
“But we can’t just let them—” Mary protested. Nightwing tighten his grip on her, glancing behind him. They can’t see her. They can’t hear her either.
“Robin, fall back to the secondary extraction point. Bluejay’s, with me. Now. Quiet and slow.” Dick said.
"But what about he drugs? Prometheus? Paul Opperman?" Mary said confused. "We can still blow the --"
"No." Dick said sharply.
She wasn’t wrong. Prometheus on the streets, synthesized, and in bulk. Two charges in the containers that were now offloaded would set back the operation at least two months, if not longer. His grip tightened on her more.
"I'll handle it. You...you stay.” he said, throwing the termite charges at Robin. “Robin, change of plans. You and I need to hit those shipments whatever it is, whether is Prometheus or the components, blow it. Go. Now. Third vantage point."
“But-”
“Go. Now.”
Robin vanished without another word, disappearing down the crane.
"What about me?" Mary mumbled. He carried her off, setting her down on the rooftop of a neighboring, lower warehouse, depositing her behind the sturdy cover of a rooftop HVAC unit.
"You are staying right here. Here. Only." Dick said, checking her before deeming the area somewhat safe enough.
"But I can he-"
"Mary. No. Stay put. That's a order."
She was practically invisible unless she moved. But Mary wouldn’t move. A ugly part of him knew she wouldn’t. She wouldn't directly disobey him. Her own training demanded she wouldn’t. You didn’t disobey the handler.
He felt disgusted at himself.
“You stay right here," he repeated, his hands on her shoulders. "Your job is to watch. To be our eyes. If anything goes wrong, if anyone approaches this roof, you vanish. You go straight home. You do not engage. Understood?"
Mary stared at him, biting her lower lip. She wanted argue. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t---She nodded.
Dick sighed. He could guess how she was feeling. Dismissed. Benched. Distrusted.He wanted to say more. To explain…something. He just stood up, touching his comm.
"Robin," Nightwing said. "We're on. Fast and hot. We hit the cargo on the truck after it leaves the immediate perimeter of those three. We cripple the shipment, then disengage before Blockbuster or KGBeast can personally respond."
"Understood," Robin said over the comms. "I am in position. Awaiting your signal."
Nightwing paused. “I’ll be back soon.”
Mary didn’t say anything, just nodding again.
Nightwing sighed, turning around disappearing off the edge of the roof.
~
She sighed, keeping an eyes on them. She saw the flash of an escrima stick, the brief flare of a small, controlled explosion. She heard the shouts of confusion, the roar of anger. It was painfully obvious how well they moved together, Nightwing and Robin, well more like ‘Batman’ and Robin.
She supposed she shouldn’t have been shocked.
She didn’t think he’d have much faith in her in the field since Talon…trust…she wasn’t a partner to be trusted.
She was…she didn’t even know what.
It was unnatural to watch a fight and not be in it. She payed attention, but her mind was elsewhere. On a different rooftop…then on a different balcony, with Talon. He hadn't trusted her either. And she didn’t blame him. She killed him. She killed lots of people…how could she be truly trusted to save them?
~
One.
Just one.
They’d only managed to blow one cargo container. The other, the far larger one, the larger one, the one that likely held the bulk of the Prometheus stores. Had been too well guarded. KGBeast had cut off their approach with his own men and Sionis, and Blockbuster’s had drawn every security detail to them like a magnet.
They’d been forced to retreat. A couple grazes and more bruises to count on escape when they opened fire. And now, KGBeast, Blockbuster and Victor Sionis, knew Nightwing and Robin were onto them.
Element of surprise. Ruined.
“The secondary container was too fortified after the first explosion. They adapted. Quickly.” Robin said, checking his arm.
Nightwing leaned against the railing, his shoulders slumped with a fatigue that went beyond physical. He couldn’t get Mary’s face out of his head. “We slowed them down. That’s something.”
“It is a setback. Not a solution. A second pair of hands on the flank,” Robin said quietly, not looking at Nightwing, “could have provided the necessary diversion to reach the primary target. Someone small, fast, unpredictable. Someone they would not have anticipated. In fact, if we had someone small, fast and unpredictable we could have blow both containers with ease simultaneously, as that someone could easily have slipped past the guards.”
Someone like Bluejay.
Someone like Mary whom was more than capable of such a feat.
Nightwing didn’t respond watching the first weak sunlight bleed over the Blüdhaven skyline. What if? What if Mary had been there? Could her presence have tipped the scales? Or would it have simply placed her directly in KGBeast’s line of sight, or worse, in Blockbusters? Or…would it have made their mission a success instead of a failure.
A part of him knew the answer and it irritated him instantly.
Damian never one to not be blunt ‘tt’ed. “You let emotions cloud your judgement, Grayson.”
He had made a call. It might have cost the city. Because of that, more of the poison was now loose in his city. How many future Paul Opperman’s would be dead? How many kids would lose their parents, or siblings or friends to the “gift of fire”?
“We live to fight another day,” Nightwing said. “All of us. That’s the win tonight.”
Damian scoffed. “Not even you believe that.”
“Robin--” Nightwing started.
“What?” Damian replied. “You didn’t trust her. Plain and simple.”
“Its not simple.”
It was painfully simple. He’d chosen Mary’s safety over the mission. It was the right choice. The only choice he could live with. Even if it felt awful now.
“She’s ten, Damian,” Dick said. “She was swinging her legs on a ledge a hundred feet above KGBeast. KGBeast.” The name made his gut curdle. “I saw him… I saw him look up. If he saw her-"
“So what? She is capable,” Damian said sharply. “Beyond capable than maybe even you at that age. She is a strong fighter, fast, trained, yet unpredictable compared to us. And she was positioned correctly. She was perfect for this mission. You needed someone to move like a shadow, to hit multiple targets in a short space of time, while one or both of us aided in a distraction. She could do it in her sleep. You allowed your fear to override the tactical layout. It compromised the obje--”
"Don’t you think I know that!?"
Damian went silent. Dick sighed, taking a deep breath. "I had partners before. I had you. " Dick mumbled. "Why...why is this so hard?"
Damian didn’t say anything for a while. "I wondered the same." Damian said as they walked back to Dick’s apartment. Mary already there according to her tracker. "Now, I remembered how father behaved when I became his Robin.”
“What do you mean?”
Damian sighed. “I did not understand. I had excelled at being your Robin. I was trained and capable, far more than any previous Robin too. Yet, he benched me all the time, for reasons I found confusing. He did not let me fight Joker, nor Two-Face. He had even benched me for at one point for Mr Freeze. I often suck out and aided anyway, and he became furious, you recall?”
Dick sighed. “Yeah, I do.”
He remembered arguing with Bruce about trusting Damian to handle himself, and suddenly found himself seeing where Damian was going with this.
“Now that I have seen you tonight, I finally understand why.” Damian said. “I regret, I may have been too harsh on Father." Damian said. “I didn’t realise it. I was a son first. Partner second. With you, I was a partner, a brother at times even. The relationship is -- strikingly different. Mary is your daughter, a child you believe you have failed since day one. Your love for her...is what is hindering your usually decent mind."
“Usually decent?” Dick snorted
“Yes.” Damian said. “She is your daughter, and my friend, it is only natural that she is exceptional. If you choose to let her show you. If you choose to trust her like a partner.”
Dick nodded. “I hate how your right about this.”
“Mary and I have know each a long time.” Damian said. “I know her well. Which is why I know she is fuming and will likely be furious at both of us.”
A delivery notification buzzed on Dick’s phone.
“The fridge is coming,” Dick said. “I bought a fridge. Its coming in about three hours.”
“Finally.” Damian said. “We should depart. Maryam will be…concerned. Or asleep. I hope it is the former.”
~
“Unbeliable.” Damian said. “She is slacking on her training to be this deep asleep and not be aware of us.” Damian said, leaning over her, checking if she was sleeping.
Mary was curled on the couch, still in her Bluejay uniform minus the mask and boots, her cape being used as a blanket. She’d waited up, and clearly fell asleep at some-point.
“I wonder if she’s angry sleeping?” Damian mused, poking her lightly. “It is a phemomen that is possible.”
Dick stood in the window frame, watching her. She looked younger in sleep, all chubby cheeks, and soft short dark hair. Big warm sapphire eyes like his, and long lashes and a kid softness she had gained recently that he rather preferred to the sharp skin and bones of malnutrition that she used to have. His little girl. The one he’d just, effectively, told she wasn’t enough for the fight.
He picked up a blanket, draping it over her, gently kissing her forehead softly. He could tell from the lightest shift in her breathing, she was somewhat aware they were here, but was clearly choosing to sleep. Mary had the ears of a bloodhound.
He left her to go to sleep properly, before he moved to the fridge.
He and Damian, moved to the old fridge in the corner. Beginning the process of moving it and unplugging it. The old fridge wheezed in protest when they finally did unplug it and began the careful process of moving it away from the wall. It was heavier than it looked. They finally shifted the old fridge into the center of the kitchen for the haul-away. The process of cleaning it out, (not much, the spoiled chunky milk was and other ‘contaminates’ as Damian put it were quickly disposed off. As they worked, Dick’s eyes kept drifting back to the couch.
Just to check. He smiled softly. Mary was sleeping deeply now. Dick walking over putting some pillows on the floor in case she rolled off the couch. She was a moving sort of sleeper.
Dick’s phone dinged. “They’ll be here in about a hour.” he said, pausing. “We should change into civvies. I think Mitch and fridge moving workers will be surprised to see Nightwing and Robin replacing Dick Grayson’s fridge?”
“Agreed.”
They changed in about fifteen minutes, before pausing when they both looked at Mary sleeping on the couch. “You should change her." Damian said, “I will retrieve clothes-”
“I got it.” Dick said, he picked her up easily. Mary murmuring, nestling her face into the crook of Dick’s neck, but didn’t wake. He walked her into her room, gently untieing and loosened the straps and fasteners of the Bluejay uniform. Dick lifted her just enough to slip the top piece over her head, her arms limp with sleep.
“Dad?” Mary mumbled groggily, as Dick helped her into a soft sleepshirt.
“Hey peanut.” Dick mumbled, “Comfy?”
Mary nodded, resting her head against him. “Hurt?”
“No.”
“Damian?”
“He’s fine too.”
Mary relaxed fully, snuggling him. “I’m mad at you…but your warm so…”
Dick chuckled. “Why thank you, I pride myself on being a personal heater for you.” he mumbled, running his fingers though her hair. “I’m sorry I was harsh you today.” he said. “I was scared. And I messed up. And we can talk about it later. But…I want you to know, you did good. And thank you for listening to me.”
Mary patting his chest over his heart. “Listening is a crucial part of sidekicking, isn't it?”
“Yes it is.” Dick said, setting her down. “We’ll talk later, sleep now, kay?”
She didn’t need much prompting.
~
The delivery window had barely begun when the buzzer sounded. Dick, moving stiffly, let Mitch and his burly partner into the apartment.
“Right on time, gentlemen,” Dick said, forcing a cheerful tone that didn’t reach his eyes. “The old one’s right there. We cleared the space.”
“Uh, great. We’ll get this swapped right out for you.”
Mary stirred from her room, walking into the kitchen, dragging her soft blanket with her. Watching as the large, shiny new fridge was maneuvered into its place with a solid thunk. She blinked sleepily, leaning on Damian as they watching the attendants work. Damian unconsciously running his fingers though her hair.
They watched, silent, as Mitch plugged it in. A deep, healthy hum filled the kitchen.
“There you go!” Mitch said, wiping his hands. “All set. The manual tray is in the freezer drawer. Just need you to sign here.”
Dick scrawled his signature on the tablet, Mitch leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “Betty was a good choice, sir. Good for families,” he said, inclining his head to Mary, whom was now sitting up and looking curiosly at the new fridge.
“Have a good day today, sir.” Mitch said, calling the other man over.
The delivery team left, taking the wheezing old fridge with them. Betty standing proudly in its place. “It’s huge,” Mary whispered, padding over to open the door. The light spilled out, illuminating the pristine, empty shelves. “It’s so…clean.”
“It will not remain that way if you leave fingerprints on the door.” Damian said, but he was standing beside her, looking in with her. “The condenser is operating at an acceptable decibel level. The energy rating is sufficient.”
“I wont leave fingerprints it’s a blue fridge --”
“I doesn’t mean their wont be fingerprints.”
“You’re such a downer.”
Dick came to stand behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders. The three of them just looked at the fridge for a long moment.
“Okay,” Dick sighed, patting Mary’s shoulder. “Who wants to go bankrupt with me at the grocery store? We have a lot of empty space to fill.”
"I thought you said we're broke now." Mary said.
“We’re…not broke….” Dick said. “Kinda.”
Damian sighed, checking his phone. “Father has… requested my return,” he said, the word ‘requested’ sounding very much like ‘summoned.’ “My continued absence would be noted. He needs me for a important case.”
“Mary. Your analysis of the dock schematics was adequate. Do not let emotional variables degrade your tactical precision. Continue your studies.” Damian said.
Mary punched his shoulder lightly, hugging him. “I’ll miss you too. Get home safe.”
Damian hugged her back. “Be safe.”
Damian looked over Mary’s head to Dick. “Grayson. I will… make certain our mutual acquaintance in Gotham feels increased pressure regarding his nephew’s new ventures. The financial and legal kind. It may divert resources, or at minimum, annoy him.”
Dick offered a tired, grateful smile. “Thanks, Dami. For everything.”
“Do not mention it.” Damian said. He looked at Mary for a long moment. “Keep me updated, I am not far.” he said, before he picked up the duffel bag walking out, the sound of his Robin cycle bursting out into the early Blüdhaven morning a few minutes later.
Dick turned on the kettle, making Mary tea and himself coffee. Mary poured out cereal (dry which they liked too) into two bowls, sliding one to the other end of the counter. Mary sitting down eating her own.
Dick sighed. "So...you wanna talk now or-"
Mary took a spoonful of cereal. "You gave me the orders I follow and I don't deviate."
"Mary..."
"You don't trust me.” Mary said. “Not like you trust Damian. I expected it after Talon but..."
"I trust you, bug."
"No you don't." Mary said instantly. “If you did, you wouldn't have made me stay put. I've been in the field ages. Longer than Damian, maybe not for detective stuff but the other stuff? Slade, the league, Shiva, Cain they put me in the field all the time. You didn’t trust me there. I can't change that. You can't trust someone overnight. It's understandable." she said. “I messed up. I trusted Talon…so…I don’t blame you.”
Dick pulled out the stool beside her sitting down. “You’re right,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t trust you.”
She paused, her fingers fidgeting with her spoon.
“But it’s not about your skills, Mary. Or your experience. God knows you’ve seen and done things no kid ever should. And its not about Talon either.” Dick said. “Its me. I look at KGBeast. I see the man who put a bullet in my brain. I look at Blockbuster, and I see a monster who hates me, a monster with grudge—and— I look at you on that ledge, and--- All I see is my daughter--” Dick said, swallowing hard. “It’s not a lack of trust in you. I’m scared. That I can’t protect you. That my love for you is a weakness they can exploit to get to me… or to hurt you. Last night, I let that fear make a bad call. Not because you couldn’t have handled it, but because I couldn’t handle the thought of you having to.”
“I benched you because I was scared.” Dick said. “Not because it was the smart move. And because of that, more of that drug is on the streets. That’s on me.” Dick said gently reaching out stroking her hair. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry--but you didn’t do--”
“I did.” Dick said. “I made a mistake, everyone makes them. It happens. I’m going to try and get better at this. Dad thing, Mary. I promise. I can’t promise I won’t mess up again. But I can promise I’ll listen. And I won’t just order you to stay put without explaining why. Even if the ‘why’ is just ‘your old man is having a panic attack.’ Okay?”
“Okay,” Mary said, leaning into him. Dick smiled, squeezing her slightly.
“You’re squishing me.”
“Sorry.”
Mary giggled.
Dick smiled, ruffling her hair.
“Now,” Dick said, squeezing her again extra tight, before letting go and standing up. “We have a giant, empty fridge. Wanna go pick out which shelf will be the official Nugget Zone? I’m thinking middle shelf, prime real estate.”
“The door. For easy access.” Mary said.
“Good point.” Dick said. “Okay, door it is. And you need to fill the ice-cube trays.”
“Yeah.” Mary smiled. “We always need ice-”
“That we do.”
~
The fluorescent lights of the grocery store hummed above them. Dick pushed the cart, Mary inside the shopping cart, holding the list like a ship captian looking at a map, and he was steering.
“We need Lightbulbs.” Mary reported. “Hard to port!”
Dick turned left, grabbing a two-pack of soft white LEDs.
"Are those the right kind?" Mary asked, peering over his arm.
"They make light. That's the kind we need." He tossed them in the cart. Mary nodded. "Next. Cheese. Mozzarella only.”
“Yes, the glue that holds civilization together." Dick said selected a block of mozzarella. "Pizza night. I'm attempting it."
“We should get the slices. Or pre-grated.”
“Hm….We can use a potato peeler make slices. I’ll show you.”
“Nice.” Mary said. "Milk. Not expired chucks.”
Dick picked a cartoon.
“No not that one.” Mary said “We should get the long life, 6 pack it can stay in the cupboard and then only when opened it does in the fridge, it wont spoil and we don’t have to get milk for like at least 3 months.”
“Very well, captain,” Dick said picking the box of milk, settling it in the trolley, which was filling up. Eggs, carefully placed. Bread, the non-sponge kind. Then, they turned into the frozen foods aisle.
"Dino Nuggets," Dick announced, like a curator unveiling a masterpiece. He grabbed the biggest bag he could find—the one with the brontosaurus clearly visible on the front. "The cornerstone of any respectable pantry."
Mary's eyes followed the bag as he placed it reverently in the cart. "The brontosaurus ones are the best." she said leaning over looking at it.
"Okay, what else?”
“Juice and/or juice boxes. Apple, grape, or orange." Mary said, “They have a back to school special.”
“That is wonderful. That is-”
“Starboard! Avast! We have found them.”
“Where is all this pirate language coming from?” Dick chuckled to himself, passing the pasta aisle. Dick seeing a box of dinosaur-shaped pasta. He grabbed it without a second thought. “Mac and cheese! I can make that! I think.” Dick said brightly.
“20% off three bags…” Mary said, reaching into his pocket, for Dick’s phone, tapped rapidly on his phone’s calculator. “If we get two bags of the normal and one bag of dino, we save… 4.72 compared to buying them separately.
“You’re a genius,” he said, awe in his voice.
“Its a trick.” Mary said. “The shop is tricking us, well they’re trying to.”
“Well, we are tricking them back. We are tricking them back so hard,” Dick said, a grin spreading across his face. He started loading the cart, one spaghetti, one of those pasta’s that looked like screws and the dinosaur.
“How did you learn how to do that?” Dick said.
"Alfred knows all the deals." Mary said "He talks about it. The math is hard to do in my head but the calculator helps." she said. "See Dad, the Arabian coffee is two for one. Compared to...whatever evil coffee you drink."
"My coffee’s not evil." Dick chuckled, deciding to try the two for one.
"Coffee began in Arabian counties, naturally it should be the best." Mary said solemnly.
“I think your ri-” Dick started. A shadow falling over them. Dick stiffened instantly. He knew who it was before he even turned, pulling on the ‘Dick Grayson - Philanthropic Ward - Detective - outspoken against Blockbuster for years, charities for Blüdhaven and definitely wasn’t Nightwing smile.
"My my, I heard the rumors, but I never thought I'd see it. Dick Grayson back in Blüdhaven..."
“Mr. Desmond,” Dick said, pulling a cheerful tone. He subtly shifted his stance, placing himself just a fraction more between Mary and Desmond. “What a… coincidence. I thought you were… well, attending other engagements. In a concrete box.”
Roland Desmond’s smile was a thin. “Ah, well. The justice system is full of misunderstandings. It’s good to be back in my city.” he said his eyes flickering to Mary. “So the rumors are true. Dick Grayson, a father. And after all this time. How… interesting.”
“Hello, little girl.” Blockbuster said.
“Hi.” Mary said, her head slightly tilted. “You’re really tall. And big. How is your head not hitting the ceiling?” she blurted out.
“You learn to duck, sweetheart.” Desmond said, looking at the trolley then back at Dick. “Stocking up, I see. Setting down real roots. I heard you bought the old LexCorp building on Grand. Turning it into…affordable housing, was it?”
“Foundations are important,” Dick replied smoothly, resisting her urge to pull Mary closer to him, even though it wasn’t possible. “Everyone deserves a decent place to live. Even in Blüdhaven.”
“Even in Blüdhaven,” Desmond echoed, his eyes lingered on Mary for a heartbeat too long. “A big change, going from Wayne Manor to… this.” He gestured vaguely at the store. “For both of you. I do hope you’ll be happy here.”
“We’re managing,” Dick said, the smile never wavering. “Well, we should get this ice cream home before it melts. Nice seeing you, Mr. Desmond. Keep your head down.”
“Oh, I always do. You do the same, Grayson. For your daughter’s sake. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other around.” Blockbuster said, walking off.
Mary and Dick watched him leave.
“Dad.” Mary said. “I’m surprised, he is larger than I thought, like a…very large. How fascinating. He’s like….how? How does he fit in those tiny cars? Or though doors? He must ducK - a lot I suppose.”
“Ah huh.” Dick said still watching. Mary looked at him. “Don’t worry, no more guards, I checked. He only had two, discreet in civvies. The one on the left had a limp. The right one kept his right hand in his pocket. Gun.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dick mumbled.
"Eyeballs." Mary mused
"Huh?" Dick asked
"His weak point. His eyes. Blockbuster." Mary mused. “If I had my dagger I could have just." she mumbled. "Slash his eyes, bodyguard gun goes off, throw knife at him and the other, then when Blockbuster eyes were in pain blinded. Gorilla. So harsh movement might make him run around, wait for the right moment, bomb in his mouth. boom. Or if I had my katanna, blade thought the mouth and just---unless the inside is as hard on the outside maybe---" Mary paused mid way. “Sorry."
Dick blinked. Sometimes it…blindsided him, the casual violence of permanently blinding and sticking a blade though someone’s mouth, bomb, that Mary had been accustom too. It wasn’t even malicious, she said it in such a casual tone. A deducted simple step-by-step analysis of how to murder a man in a public grocery store.
“Mary,” he said, his voice gentle but strained.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, shrinking into the trolley. “I didn’t mean…to.
“Hey. Look at me. I get it. The thoughts might come, we can choose what we do. And I know you, my best girl,” Dick said, rubbling her shoulder. Don’t worry, come on, lets pay for this stuff.
Mary nodded. “Okay. Um…checkout…forward.”
“Forward, got it, cap.”
~
"Do you get those thoughts often?" Dick asked as they drove back home.
"Sometimes." Mary said. "I just...do...I imagine it in my head. the scenarios, not all time. Not on purpose. I'll be reading and then suddenly I wonder if Mrs Henderson will try to poison my food and what I'd do. Or if you might...decide I'm too dangerous and lock me up or if Slade comes back for me...again." she mumbled. “I haven't gotten them as much…but sometimes they show up.”
Dick sighed, glancing at Mary from the corner of his eyes. She had her hands in her lap, looking down at them, shoulders together like a heavy weight was pressed on them.
"The thinking about Mrs. H…about me locking you up… about Slade," he said. "That's not your training. That's fear that the people who are supposed to care for you will hurt or abandon you. Because that's what you've learned to expect. You’re brain is trying to protect you, anticipating that. Its what you…a great operative in the field, and its what made you a good assassin. But, here's what I know, Mrs. H brings you shortbread and tells you about her begonias. She is not a poisoning risk. I am your dad. I am not locking you up. Ever. And if Slade ever comes near you again," his voice dropped. "He’ll have to go through me."
"When the thoughts come. I want you to do two things kay? First, tell me. Just like you did now. Think of it like…cleaning difficult by yourself lot easier when its with help. No matter how bad, its not to scary for me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Second, I want you to find one thing that's real and safe in that moment, something you can touch. Like this car seat. Or carpet, or…me or anything. Got it?”
“Got it.” Mary said, her eyes slowly flickered to him. “Sorry, Dad.”
“For what, peanut?”
“I know I must make you sad when I--”
“Oh, Mary, no you don’t make me sad. And…you don’t have to apologize all the time for the difficult stuff. Apologies do you know what they’re for? Really?”
“I…when I do something wrong?”
“Did you do anything wrong?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I made you sad.”
“I’m not sad.” Dick said.
“I…” Mary mumbled.
“Mary, you don’t need to apologize for being a person.”
Mary opened her mouth to respond, leaning back. Dick sighed. “You don’t need to apologize for having bad thoughts or being scared, or having big feelings, or even being mad at me, you don’t have to apologize for being excited about things. From now on, sorry’s, are for when we do something wrong. Like…we hurt someone’s feelings by mistake. Or something. Today, I hurt your feelings, I didn’t trust you, I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. Remember?”
“Yeah.” Mary said.
“So, pinky promise-”
“What’s that?”
“Here, just, pinky, there good, okay, ready, I pinky promise, very important, good. Now I pinky promise,
"I pinky promise." Mary repeated
"to -"
"to-"
“-always tell the truth, when its hard, always listen even when thoughts are really scary, always look after you and to always be your dad. No matter what. No takesies backsies.” Dick said, his pinky still hooked around hers.
Mary stared at their linked fingers. Then up at him. “No takesies backsies,” she repeated slowly. “That’s... that’s a rule?”
“One of the most important ones.” Dick said solemnly. “Right up there with ice cream before dinner on Fridays and bedtime is flexible when there’s a good movie on.”
“Those are real rules?”
“Absolutely. I’m the dad. I make the rules. Now, press our thumbs together, good, now this is sealed. Forever. Can’t break a pinky promise. It’s, like, scientifically impossible.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, law of the universe.” Dick said
“Wow.” Mary said, looking at her pinky and thumb like it was magic. “That’s cool.” she said. They drove past long buildings until they reached the apartment blocks. Dick pulling into their parking.
"Prometheus is still out there.” Mary sighed.
"Yep." Dick said, unbuckling his seatbelt. He and Mary got out of the car, their parking view giving them a lower but still decent view of the city.
"We have a lotta work to do"
"Yes, we do." Dick said, pulling her into a side-armed hug. He grinned. "But I think Nightwing and Bluejay can totally handle it."