Chapter Text
A man stood near the entrance of the door, hands held in front of him. Loose waves of black hair, a gentle smile, and a suit that fit him to the bone. From his simple appearance, a vast array of qualities could be observed: intelligent, bright, confident, and above all a rigorous detective. He stayed there, propped near the door like he didn’t know what to do, or who to call—if to call anyone at all.
“That must be him,” Scott whispered, towering above Tommy like he were a giant. He slid his eyes toward the man, dwarfing them—trying to figure out what his personality may be, how he worked, how he moved. “Who is he?”
“Detective Grayson,” Tommy whispered back.
The man observed them, how they seemed to be drawn to him, and whispered tactful words. He didn’t let them get to him, nor the words they would soon be using. He kept himself composed and professionally alert, ready for anything. Like Bruce taught him and how he maintained himself to be. To him, Bruce may have done some things wrong but he did many things right. And the act of putting up a farce was one of them.
“And you want to know the funny thing?” He asked with a smirk.
Scott withdrew his eyes, focused solely on Tommy, seeing his funny reaction reflected. “What?”
“His name is Dick.” Tommy still couldn’t get over that, and giggled like a schoolboy. He heaved his giggle toward his arm, sticking it to his skin, leaving the appearance unseen.
Scott chuckled instantly, trying to hide his chuckle by slipping his hand over his mouth, refraining by showing the man his back instead of his side. The joke, as immature as it was, specifically for older men, still pulled a laugh out of them—even enough for tears to stain their eyelids.
Dick, still across from them, let his eyes wander around the room, seeing nothing different compared to his own. He waited for Sonja to enter, or for her to call him inside. That was the thing about this: he was sent there but no one seemed to help him, or want him. It was like he was the odd man out (which he was), and simply saw him as a person unlike them, beyond them. For better or for worse. And it didn’t help that except Tommy and Scott, people’s faces seemed to be fixated upon him, with questions being raised. Like they hadn’t already heard of this whole situation before.
Now and then, Tommy let out things he never did when he was twenty, fatherhood made those things just come out. And he acted at times like his own young son, and it seemed to be of benefit for him, especially in terms of building relationships, just as he had with Scott.
Tommy and Scott mercilessly boiled themselves in random conversations, random opinions, wherever it would be. In their rookie days, it was an essential place. They would be together a lot of times, patrolling together when necessary.
…
After nearly an hour, Sonja finally stepped out of her office and walked over to greet Dick.
“Mr. Grayson. You’ve arrived,” she said, stopping in front of him and holding out her hand for a handshake. He obliged.
He grinned. “Sonja. Long time no see,” he replied wistfully.
Ignoring that wistfulness in his tone, she gave his hand a short shake. “Come,” she called, waving him forward and cutting through the two men gossiping like high schoolers. He strung himself alongside her.
“Tommy,” she said.
At once, Tommy stood from his chair, straight as a pole, his attention concentrated on her. Scott scrambled beside him, pretending to busy himself with something.
“Meet Detective Grayson,” she said, gesturing toward Dick.
Dick stepped forward and held out his hand—the same gesture she had done to him.
Smiling, Tommy greeted him. “Thomas Lambs. But call me Tommy.”
He shook Dick’s hand, placing his other hand over Dick’s wrist as he gave it a firm shake.
Dick smiled too. A big, ghoulish smile.
But that smile was more shocking than anything. It was him. Again. After all these years. Right in front of him. No longer the twenty-something-year-old he had met, and definitely not the fifteen-year-old brother he had lost. Same black hair. Same dabble in his speech. The same blue eyes that confronted him that very day. The same foul of recognition. It was up again. All of it. Like that first time he had seen the ghost—he had met him again. Meticulously. Harder. Grown beyond description. A different person. But as usual, not his stupid brother. The one he had loved.
It was like flowers were surrounding him—big beautiful daisies—diamonds blended through him. A combination of a tingle of hope. It had been ten years since he swore he would stop, ten years when he decided to not listen to Bruce, and years after those ten that he could not let go. He didn’t stalk, not again. He didn’t search him up like a freakish loser. No, he just thought of him, even pondering what he could do, if he could do anything that wasn’t creepy. But over the course of those years, he really found nothing that would shine a new light, or something that would be out of Bruce’s reach.
This time, though. There was a magical difference, a squandering one if Bruce was to find out. And it was there—the perfect situation—the perfect possibility—and the perfect opportunity.
“Nice to meet you. I have heard great things about you, Tommy,” Dick said, lying profusely.
Tommy. How have you been? He’d like to say, but he said nothing more.
“I will love working with you, Sir,” Tommy grit his teeth, the appearance still a continuous smile. Sir. Always polite. Just like he was when I saw him. Grown more than I could have ever expected.
“Well, this is a great meeting. Isn’t it? Well, you may speak a bit more, if you’d like. But there are things you must attend to.”
Dick turned his head. “Okay, Sonja. We will get straight to that, don’t you worry.” Tommy noticed the odd tension between them, and lifted his brows, curious.
She gave a fake smile and almost jabbed his stomach. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry. Not for your sake.” And with that, she left the men alone, returning back to her office.
Dick clapped his hands and emerged to speak more. “Well, what should we do then? You’re in charge.”
“I am?” Tommy questioned.
“Yes. I don’t know much around here.”
“Um, well…”
“I’m assuming we should speak about the case, no?”
Tommy just looked at him and scratched his temple, unfamiliar in these types of situations. For once, he was at the top of these cases, not the notable policeman that stood around, waiting for someone to speak to him. Even if he was considered the best of the best, at least by people like Sonja.
Scott, having found something to do, just stayed in his seat, occasionally glancing towards Dick and Tommy.”
“And, you know, you can call me Dick. I don’t mind.”
“Dick?”
He nodded his head. The previous conversation between Scott and Tommy relevant now. “I understand the joke, or the funniness of it. But in all seriousness, it is my name.”
Tommy side-eyed Scott, who quickly shot his head up, and then shied away in embarrassment. He had clearly heard their conversation, and now, Tommy could only feel more awkward than ever. “I… uh, understand.” The juvenileness of it hitting him.
“Well, let’s get settled then. Shall we?” Dick said, sticking himself to Tommy’s side.
Tommy seemed… more mature but not at the same time. Dick observed him. And by observing him, it found small things—small cracks. More anxiety. More fidgeting. More stress, possibly from work, maybe from home. On his desk, there was a clear shot of a small child in a photo frame, placed next to his computer, perched on the side of a big pile of paperwork. Must be grueling, Dick thought.
“Is that your son?” Dick mentioned, grabbing the photo in hand, his fingers underneath the frame, feeling the brass texture. A child, no older than five. “Looks identical to you.”
Tommy, who was seated in his chair, lifted his head, and simply joked, “Yup. Handsome, just like his father, right?”
“If you suppose so,” Dick said, remembering Jason—Tommy’s past self—his look, his youth. Adam reminded him of it. And the moments he used to tease him. And he thought, why not? Why not tease Tommy like he was his brother? After all, whether Tommy likes it or not, if now or in the future, they are brothers.
Tommy tightened his jaw. Another asshole. Scott just laughed at that. His laugh got a mean glare from Tommy.
“Hey! It was funny!”
Tommy just sighed and snatched it from Dick’s hand. Dick left his hand in the air, the feeling of that photo frame still lingering. “Let’s just get on with this…” Tommy lamented, grasping the folder he had been given, placing it straight in front of Dick. “Anyway, shouldn’t they have given you a desk?”
“It’s only temporary.”
“Well, yes. But wouldn’t it work best if you had a desk as well?” Then he remembered the short annoyance, or well, strangeness from Sonja earlier. “What happened between you and Sonja?”
“Sonja?”
Tommy nodded, hoping to hear the whole story. Maybe Dick was the type of guy to chat. And if what Sonja said was true, he was the type to distract. “Yup, she said she met you before.”
“Oh,” he replied, clearing his throat begrudgingly. “A few times, or more a few months. We were in the same police academy.”
“That’s cool.”
“She was quite a person, to be honest. But she’s fair.”
“That she is.”
Dick, shaking his head to get his mind out of that whole personal situation, he opened the folder. Seeing crime scene photos, information stuck next to them, beneath many of them, they had key evidence pointed. “These are all the same as Blüdhaven… Same person. No leads for us, neither for you then?”
“No. Not that has been mentioned. Everything that we know is in that file.”
He heaved a breath, inching slightly closer to him. Tommy could sense his lunch, most likely chicken near his neck, almost gagging. “Well, Let’s start from the beginning,” he began, leaning over Tommy.
Tommy quickly stood from his chair.
“I’ll get you one—hold on,” he said, raising a finger toward Dick. Scott just peeked his head, eavesdropping.
He walked to the storage room and grabbed one of the extra chairs they had lying around. A moment later he came back, placing it beside his own.
Dick mumbled a quiet thank you and sat down, pulling the chair closer. Tommy looked at Scott instantly, and gave him a doubtful look, leading for Scott to resign back to his chair.
As the two overlooked every detail, every evidence, every precise moment, the whole thing they could pinpoint was already known: the same killer. Same locations. Same profile of victims. Women in their early twenties, most in the later years of college. All had a life to look forward to, and all were killed before they could realize their full potential.
…
Dick returned to his apartment in Blüdhaven, a stark contrast to where he had been. Full of people, full of life. Now, here, in his one-bedroom apartment—he was alone. Alone, nothing to do except take care of his dog. Fashionably as one does, he changed, took a brisk shower, and began to watch TV—scrolling past anything he found interesting or enough for him to binge in some capacity.
At least his dog allowed him to have some comfort in the world. The divorce was still there. But at least he had won him in the custody battle. A tiny French Bulldog named JJ. Who always seemed to be rowdy and up and up, even as they walked and he was struggling to breathe at all. But no matter his health issues, Dick adored him, even cuddling him in his own bed.
Now all he could think about was how to be friendly with Tommy. How to be friendly without being slightly rude or share this brotherly nature that he would for sure find to be weird or disturbing.
All he could, for now, was see how things went. See how the world came at their feet, and how, eventually, nature would lead them towards the only thing Dick could think about nowadays.
First on all of this: he could not, by any means, tell Bruce. About the case, yes. But his partner? His possible friend? The son he knew existed?
Definitely not.
It was a secret he had kept. Just like Bruce kept him a secret. He had to do the same.
Now, it was just time making its way back—through and through. And whether it collapsed, only time would tell.