Chapter Text
It was coming up to half past nine in the afternoon and the temperature was falling fast when the kid that had been watching him pack up for the last hour finally comes out of the shadows.
“I want to join the circus.” He says.
There is no question there, which is the first thing Dick Grayson notices about him. He wasn’t asking, he wasn’t pleading or trying to persuade him; it was a blunt declaration of intent, like a declaration of war.
The second thing Dick Grayson notices about him is his clothing. Dick had an eye for Gotham fashions and the suit is expensive, very expensive, like he had come from a funeral, and though it has been ruffled and dirtied by the day’s activities he didn’t seem to care. That said old money to Dick, old enough that a kid doesn’t have to care about ruining his good suit. He probably had a maid back home who washed for him and would never dream of asking the young master to take better care of his clothing.
Dick sighs. He wishes that this was the first time he had to deal with this.
“Kid, running away with the circus is an urban legend. No-one actually does it.” He explains.
Technically it’s not true. Haly’s took in runaways; they’d picked up three tonight, on their last night in Gotham but they’re all over eighteen. They’re teenagers from rough homes looking for a fresh start and they’d do grunt work for a ride to the next city then disappear. Haly’s didn’t take kids who couldn’t be older than ten.
“I want to join the circus.” The kid restates and balls his tiny hands into stubborn fists.
Dick crouches to be closer to the kid’s eye level. Dark hair in a fashionable cut, dark suit, dark shoes now covered with a fine layer of dust, everything about him seemed to be dark.
“You should go home; your parents must be sick with worrying about you…” Dick starts to say.
The boy shakes his head.
“They’re not.” He says with the same leaden certainty.
“Now how do you know that, I’m sure they love you very much…” Dick starts again and the kid looks up at him. His eyes are a piercing icy blue and starting to rim with tears.
“They’re dead.” He says and Dick hears in that voice an echo of himself when he was younger.
“…I’m sorry to hear that.” Dick says softly.
They’re off the script now and he’s not sure what to say to this child on the brink of crying.
“You didn’t kill them.” The boy tries to shrug it off but his piercing eyes still stab at Dick’s heart. “Did you?”
Dick shakes his head. There’s no question of that.
“Where’s your family?” Dick asks.
The kid shoves his hand in his pockets.
“Don’t have any. The Kanes are vultures and they hate me and they arrested Alfred.” He says.
“And Alfred is…?” Dick asks.
“My butler.” The kid says. “They say he’s implicated in the murder but he’s innocent.”
Dick bites back a swear as he realizes who the kid must be.
“You’re Bruce Wayne, aren’t you?” He asks and the kid scowls.
Now Dick recognizes him. He’d been in their audience before, looking out at the show with that same sullen expression, like he was afraid smiling would stop him looking cool. Dick remembered how a trick would wow him and he would smile like sun peeking from behind a cloud. He remembers this because Martha Wayne is the main reason they performed in Gotham at all, there were always seats reserved for her and her family. They always performed extra-well on the nights Martha was there to watch.
He’d heard the news of course but it is going to be hard getting used to talking about Martha in the past tense. She loved the circus, she was practically an honorary member. Had been. She had been almost family.
“Bruce, this isn’t something you can run away from.” Dick says softly and puts a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Bruce is shaking, just a little, with the effort it takes not to cry. Dick’s sure if he pointed it out he would say it was just the cold.
“I have to get out of this city. Please.” He says and his eyes are desperately pleading.
“Bruce, if I did it would be kidnapping.” Dick points out. “It isn’t my decision to make.”
The kid leaps forwards and wraps his arms around Dick’s middle.
“Please don’t make me go.” Bruce says.
Dick hugs him back and strokes his fingers comfortingly through the boy’s hair.
“It’s going to be okay Bruce. I promise it will all be okay…” He says to soothe him.
He feels his heart break when the boy begins to cry. He holds him close and ignores the tears soaking through his shirt until the trembling of the tiny body in his arms has stilled.
“…Bruce, I’m going to have to make a phone call. Is it okay if I pick you up?” He asks.
Bruce nods, still keeping his face buried in Dick’s shirt. Dick hooks a hand around him and lifts him up onto his hip. Plenty of the performers have children; Bruce is less squirmy than them but the feeling of tiny hands gripping his shirt is familiar.
He heads back to his trailer. A few friends give him a questioning look as he walks back with a child he didn’t have before. He gives them a reassuring smile and keeps a tight hold on the boy. He wouldn’t drop him for anything.
The trailer is a mess; he feels the familiar stab of regret he always did when anyone else saw it and a rush of temporary motivation to clean later (that will fade before he actually cleans). He leaves the door open so the kid doesn’t feel trapped but he doesn’t even look at the door.
“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” He asks. “Leave a note or anything?”
Bruce shakes his head without looking up.
“Alright.” Dick knocks his home phone off the hook and catches it one handed. It worked out better than the cell. “I’m going to have to call this in, is that alright?”
The kid wordlessly tightens his grip.
“Easy now, I’m not going anywhere.” Dick reassures him. “I just want to make sure people know I haven’t kidnapped you.”
There is no reply but the kid doesn’t make any move to tighten his grip further so Dick takes that as a tentative yes. He stays quiet and still as Dick sits and dials Barbara’s number. Emergency services in Gotham were always tied-up but she picks up on the third ring.
“Hey Babs, it’s Dick.” He says and feels from the shift on his hip that the kid is now paying close attention to him. He smiles as Barbara quickly points out she has caller id, everyone has caller id Dick, it’s the 21st century. “Yeah, I know, this call is for business, not pleasure, not that talking to you isn’t a pleasure in itself.”
He winks for the kid’s benefit and Bruce pulls a face and hides in Dick’s shirt again. His eyes are red-rimmed from the tears but he’s stopped crying. Now he’s looking around like a cornered animal, wondering what’s going to happen next and trying not to look like he’s doing it.
“You know the Wayne kid?” Dick says and Bruce looks up at him again. “Yeah the same one, I’ve got him here with me.”
Dick laughs.
“I know, what are the odds? Yeah, he’s doing fine. Want to say hi Bruce?” He offers the phone.
Bruce tightly presses his lips together and shakes his head.
“He’s not in a talking mood.” Dick seamlessly slips back into the conversation. “Mhmm. Yeah. Yeah. Alright, I’ll tell him. Right, good talking to you. Bye.”
He hangs up the phone and looks down at Bruce glaring up at him with a mixture of stubbornness and curiosity.
“That was Barbara Gordon, she’s a friend of mine and a police officer.” Dick tells him. “She’s going to come and pick you up, then we’re going to have a little talk about this running away from home thing.”
“I’ve met her.” Bruce says and waits in morose silence for a few minutes, as if searching for something else to say. “She was nice.”
“Good to hear.” Dick looks him over. “Hungry?”
Bruce stares blankly at him.
“She won’t be here for a while and I don’t know if you ate before running away to join the circus.” Dick says with a teasing edge to his voice. “I’ve got some leftover pasta I could heat up, or there’s pizza. I could probably whip us up some candy floss if you promise not to tell Barbara.”
Bruce frowns.
“I’m not a baby you can bribe with sweets.” He folds his arms. “I can look after myself.”
“I never said you couldn’t.” Dick says mildly. “I asked if you were hungry.”
Bruce gazes off into the middle distance. Even with all his practise Dick is having trouble reading his expression.
“I don’t want to go back to that empty house.” Bruce says quietly. “It’s too big and too…too empty.” His voice cracks and he frowns in anger at his own weakness.
Dick wraps an arm around his shoulder and makes wordless shushing noises to comfort him. Bruce tightly hugs him and frowns all the deeper.
Dick feels for him, he is trying to be strong, trying to be independent, and afraid of his own feelings. Dick understands what that’s like, when he first lost his parents he was so afraid that if he stopped moving and faced the truth the darkness would swallow him up and he’d never be able to break free of it. He hid that fear behind optimism and hard work until he broke down under it weeks later. Maybe some day Bruce won’t be afraid to cry, but for now they’d just met and Dick knows that any attempt to tell him that will make Bruce withdraw more, out of contrariness. He was a boy old enough to want to be treated as an adult, no, with respect.
“Bruce, you might not believe me…” Dick starts to say and clears his throat at his tone.
Bruce turns to look at him and his eyes are already accusing. Dick can see the walls going up.
“I lost my parents when I was your age too.” Dick confesses with his heart feeling heavy in his chest. “I was lucky, the circus has been a family to me, I could open up to them, trust them, talk with them...”
Dick searches for the words.
“Bruce...I know you’re scared to be hurt but if you keep pushing people away, soon you’ll have no-one you can trust and nowhere you’ll feel safe. It doesn’t have to be family, just promise me you’ll find someone you can talk to.”
Bruce looks away from him.
“...I promise.” He says in a voice so faint Dick can’t tell if he’s being genuine.
Dick's cell phone vibrates on the counter and plays Barbara’s text alert sound. He knows what the message would be without checking.
“Babs is here. Are you going to come quietly?” Dick asks with a teasing tone.
Bruce frowns and for a moment Dick is afraid he’s considering running.
“If I have to.” He says stubbornly and holds his head high, though his hand still reaches for Dick’s.
Dick holds his hand as they walk through the increasingly barren looking fairgrounds. They will be gone by morning, leaving only impressions in the earth to show where they had pitched their tents. The lights have gone dark, the colourful fabric of the big top folded up and stowed away. The faint scent of funnel cake and popcorn still lingers on the Gotham smog. Soon it will be swallowed by the smells of gasoline and tarmac.
“I’m going to run away again.” Bruce confesses out of the blue. He glares up at Dick, daring him to take offense.
Dick stays calm and unreadable.
As they walk out of the entrance to the fairgrounds Bruce catches sight of the police cruiser and tightens his grip on Dick’s hand. Dick squeezes it back to reassure him.
Barbara is leaning against the door of the cruiser as they approach. Her arms are folded as she looks at them with the same look she gave Dick when he left his laundry on the floor.
“You’re in big trouble young man.” She tells Bruce. “Your uncle has been looking for you.”
“I don’t care.” The kid says and folds his arms back.
Dick tries not to smile at how adorable his pouty face was, especially when the kid looks to him for backup. He forces his face into a neutral mask and coughs.
“Get in the car.” Barbara orders.
Bruce immediately turns to look at Dick with pleading puppy dog eyes.
“I promised I’d see him home safe.” Dick lies easily.
Barbara of course notices immediately then notices how tightly Bruce is clutching Dick’s hand and makes the connection. She always was the sharp one.
“Alright, both of you in the car then.” She keeps her voice professionally level to show Bruce how serious the situation is but Dick can tell she’s also trying not to smile. “But we are going to have a talk about this.”
“Fine…” Bruce nods and climbs into the back of the cruiser. He immediately turns so he is looking moodily out the window.
Dick sits next to him and Bruce’s hand creeps across the seat to grab his. The journey back to the station is held in awkward silence as Bruce looks out at the neon of the streets lighting up. He was talking but Dick can see he’s tensing up in fear of the telling off he’s going to get.
Dick wishes he knew what to say to make things alright. No, he wishes he could do more. He wants to pull the kid into a tight hug and reassure him he’ll always be here for him. He can’t do it though, the circus was constantly on the move after all. He would be able to be there for this poor lonely kid, as much as he wishes he could take him with him…
The station is buzzing with activity by the time the cruiser pulls in. Bruce clings close to Dick’s pant leg to avoid getting swept away in the rush. No-one pays any attention to him as Gotham’s finest bustle around doing their every-day duty, at least until a burly military type catches sight of them. Bruce’s hands tighten around Dick’s leg and he shrinks back, trying to hide behind the acrobat.
The man’s eyes focus on Dick and the anger and hate is clear in them.
“Who the hell do you think you are, stealing my nephew?” He snarls as he pushes his way past the people at the front desk to loom over Dick. His hands are curling themselves into fists already.
Dick meets his gaze calmly, refusing to be intimidated. He coldly notes the man’s uniform and the name below the stripes. Colonel Kane apparently. A ‘vulture’ according to Bruce.
“I’m an old friend of Martha’s.” He says calmly and follows up the half-truth with a complete fabrication. “I told Bruce he could stay with me if he was ever in trouble, obviously he chose to invoke that offer prematurely Sir.”
Bruce’s eyes widen and his grip tightens as he realizes that Dick is lying for him but thankfully the colonel isn’t looking at his nephew.
“Of course Martha’d fall in with bloody gypsies.” The Colonel spits and Dick keeps his calm demeanour, even though it looks like Colonel Kane is struggling not to hit him.
“Yes I am Romani sir, but that is irrelevant.” Dick coolly corrects. His calm manner is only making the colonel more enraged but the man deserves it. No wonder Bruce didn’t want to go home if this is what he had to look forward to. “Martha Wayne was always in support of Haly’s circus, it is no wonder Bruce wanted to run away to somewhere he felt safe.”
The accusation lying under Dick’s words makes the colonel’s eyes narrow and for the first time he notices Bruce hiding behind Dick’s legs.
“Get out here now Boy.” He orders and Bruce tightens his grip.
“Don’t want to…” He starts to say timidly.
“Now Boy, that’s an order!” The Colonel snarls and Bruce jolts with fear and quickly stands to attention. “Bad enough that idiot doctor got them both killed, he didn’t even teach his son proper respect.” The colonel folds his arms, looking over the boy disapprovingly. “You have got to be disciplined Boy. You are never going to run away from home again, is that clear?”
“Y-Yes.” Bruce stutters under the look the colonel is giving him. “Yes sir!” He quickly corrects.
From the fear in his voice and in his posture Dick wonders if the colonel has ever struck him. He wouldn’t put it past him.
“Thank you for returning him Mr…?” The colonel puts a condescending emphasis on his lack of title.
“Grayson. Richard Grayson.” Dick replies and smoothly moves to cut him off at the exact moment the colonel moves to push past him. He crouches to be closer to Bruce’s eye level, ignoring the colonel to his barely suppressed rage.
“Now then Bruce, be a good boy alright?” He says to the kid directly. Bruce looks back at him, silently pleading with him not to leave. Dick’s heart breaks for the second time today. “Chin up Bruce. I’m always here if you need someone to talk to.”
Dick reaches out and lifts Bruce’s chin for him, at the same time using sleight of hand to slip him a scrap of paper with his number scrawled on it. Bruce’s eyes widen a fraction as he realizes what Dick is giving him. He quickly hides it from the colonel’s view. Dick kisses his forehead, partially because he knows the gesture will annoy the colonel.
“Stay safe Bruce.” He gives a blessing.
“You’re wasting our time.” The colonel grips Bruce’s shoulder far too tightly and attempts to steer him to the exit.
“Actually, Colonel you can’t leave yet.” Barbara intervenes, stepping between them with a fresh cup of coffee in her hand.
The colonel’s eyes narrow again. Bruce rubs at his shoulder. Dick can tell it is going to bruise.
“It’s bad enough you can’t catch the rat that shot them, now you’re saying I can’t take him home?” Colonel Kane snorts.
“The Wayne Case is still hot, we have some questions regarding Bruce to put to Mr. Grayson.” Barbara replies. Despite the colonel being nearly a foot taller than her she is even less phased than Dick.
“What questions? He’s coming with us, we’re family!” The colonel points out.
“I cannot answer that until I have had my discussion with Mr. Grayson.” Barbara replies coolly. “Mr. Grayson, please accompany me to interview room three.”
Dick humbly obeys the police officer as if they were strangers and follows her to the indicated room. He only drops the pretence once Barbara has locked the door behind them and relaxed with a sigh.
“What’s this about Babs?” Dick asks her as he takes a seat.
Barbara takes the seat opposite him.
“Remember how I told you the Wayne case was still hot?” She asks.
Dick nods.
“Well it’s hotter than you can imagine. We’re still trying to track down the gunman but it’s looking like it was no accident. We’ve found evidence they were being targeted by one of the main families. Whoever it was they were paid off by someone, someone who wants the butler to take the fall.” Barbara tells him.
Dick smiles.
“So you’re saying…” He starts and Barbara sighs internally as she sees where this is going.
“Dick.” She warns him.
“You don’t think…” Dick presses on regardless.
“Dick!” Barbara glares.
“The butler…” Dick says.
“Dick, I have had to fake laugh at that same joke from everyone in the department but I swear on all that I believe in if you finish that sentence I will sock you one.” Barbara gives him an ultimatum.
Dick grins.
“Wow, police brutality. I should report you for that Detective Gordon.” He teases.
Barbara raises an eyebrow.
“Here? In Gotham? Good luck.” She snorts.
“Ouch, yeah, you have a point.” The amount of corruption in the Gotham Police probably shouldn’t be joked about, which is why he did. Barbara was the one fighting against it every day, the least he could do was bring some levity into her life.
“We could use you back on the force Dick. You were a good cop.” Barbara sighs wistfully.
“It wouldn’t have worked out, I’m a circus boy, it’s in my blood.” Dick fakes a smile but Barbara isn’t looking at him anymore.
Dick isn’t sure they’re strictly talking about the police work anymore.
“Bruce is a target.” The moment passes and Barbara returns to the case at hand. “Whoever organized the hit is going to want to finish the job and the colonel…”
“Is a complete psychopath.” Dick snorts.
“You didn’t see him at his best.” Barbara smiles faintly.
“I just wish there was something I could do to help the kid.” Dick sighs.
“There is.” Barbara tells him.
“What?” Dick asks.
“What you wish you could do.” Barbara replies.
“You mean?” Dick frowns.
“He won’t be safe in Gotham.” Barbara tells him.
“Barbara…” Dick tries to cut in.
“Getting out of the city will be good for him.” Barbara continues.
“Barbara….” Dick tries again.
“He can be home-schooled but you’ll be following the Department of Education standards…”
“Barbara!”
Barbara finally stops.
“Do you really think I can do this?” Dick asks her with his tone dead serious. “Do you really think I can help this child?”
“I am vouching for you as a former officer, a partner and a friend.” Barbara tells him. “It wouldn’t be adoption but you’d be his legal guardian. Think of it as witness protection, until we get the case sorted out. I’m going to have to devote all my resources to keeping the butler out of prison, I need someone I can trust to keep him safe and in Gotham trust is in short supply.”
She smiles.
“Besides I saw how you moved to protect him, you didn’t want to let him go did you?”
“He’s so alone Babs.” Dick tells her. “He has no-one left and if he doesn’t have someone to care about him soon I’m afraid of what he’s going to become. He needs someone who’s going to help him, not discipline him.”
“Your parents were killed at around the same age, weren’t they?” Barbara says and, yeah, she was the sharp one and sometimes that cut deep. “There’s no-one in this city that understands him more than you.”
“We move on in the morning.” Dick tells her. “We won’t be back in Gotham for a year.”
“Then you better sign the paperwork fast.” Barbara tells him and slaps a thick wad of paper onto the table in front of him.
Dick does.
The colonel, predictably, does not take it well but Dick takes Bruce outside before the conversation escalates to cursing.
“On what authority are you letting a circus brat take away my nephew?!” The colonel barks in his direction as Dick walks past him and Barbara with Bruce.
“An undercover operative is not required to identify themselves unless ordered by their superiors General.” Dick says as he walks out the door. “If you have a problem with that, take it up with the president.”
They walk out into the Gotham night. The circus will be moving on by morning and they’ll be moving on with it. Dick hails a taxi with a wave of a bill that, when handed to the driver, turns out to be a twenty. He climbs into the back seat to sit beside Bruce. Bruce immediately cuddles up to his side.
“Thank you for saving me Richard…” The boy mutters sleepily.
“Please call me Dick, no-one who knows me calls me Richard.” Dick tells him. “My mother used to call me Dickey Bird because I’d hop everywhere like a little robin.”
“Alright Dick.”
Dick ruffles his hair.
“We’re going to have to pick up clothes and such as we go.” He says thoughtfully, already planning their next few stops. “Is there anything you want to pick up from the house?” He asks.
Bruce appears deep in thought for a few seconds then shakes his head emphatically.
“It’s all just memories, old, dusty memories.” He says and leans against Dick’s side.
After a few seconds a smile spreads across his face.
“What are you looking so happy about?” Dick asks him.
“I did run away with the circus in the end.” Bruce says smugly.
Dick opens his mouth to argue, realizes he is completely right, and closes it.
“Just don’t get used to it, alright buddy?” Dick tells him. “It was extremely dangerous, reckless and absolutely a one-time thing.”
Bruce yawns and closes his eyes. By the time the taxi stops at the fairgrounds he is fully and deeply asleep. Bruce stays asleep even as Dick picks up him up and pays the taxi driver. Dick is careful not to disturb him as he moves through the nearly abandoned fairgrounds. He gets a few annoyed looks and mouths apologies to those still packing up as he picks his way back to the trailer. He carefully tucks the boy into his bed and gets started on some research.
The Wayne murders is splashed over the front page over every Gotham publication, from the reputable to the less than so. He reads through them all; from the touching four-page memorial to their lives, to the gossip rag trying to drum up controversy by claiming Dr Thomas Wayne had arranged the hit to cover up his drug addiction. It takes some digging to find the actual information under the sentimental quotes and flattery, but his investigative instinct was strong. Jimmy had said he could have a career as a reporter if he hadn’t been so married to the badge.
Let’s see now, what does he know? On the surface the Waynes were Gotham’s golden children, shining examples of the upper crust loved by everyone…except their fellow social elite. Gotham had enough mysteries to keep any detective busy, every fact you uncovered left a new question behind, like a tangled ball of loose threads. So the Waynes had enemies; those whose place is high society was from dirty money, those that resented the pressure to match the Waynes generosity…Any one of them could afford to hire a gunman. Any one of them could afford to hire an assassin with no qualms about killing a child…
Dick turns to look at the sleeping boy.
Barbara was right, he’d be safer away from Gotham City. The hungry city, performers called it, always clamouring for spectacle or blood or both. It would chew up a traumatized kid like Bruce, cut him up like sashimi with scandals and serve him wrapped up in the front page of the Gotham Gazette.
Okay, maybe he was getting too tired for proper detective work. That last thought barely made sense.
He checks the clock. Yeah, he should sleep while he can. It’s so late it’s too early. Of course, his bed is currently occupied, but that has never stopped him. He tucks into a corner and shuts down the screen. Immediately the room is plunged into darkness and he finds it easier than he feared to fall asleep.
Dick had careful control over his sleeping habits; he could sleep through almost anything but certain things would shock him awake faster than being electrocuted. One of those things was the sound of a panicking child desperately calling for his mother. Dick hauls himself up, still half asleep, and winces at the ache in his body.
“Bruce, I’m here Bruce.” He says and yawns.
Bruce looks up at him, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. Whatever dream he’d woken up from it must have been terrible. Dick can tell he isn’t sure where he is.
“It’s me Dick.” He says to reassure him and spreads his arms.
Bruce dives into them and buries his face in Dick’s shirt.
“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” Dick mutters to him as he wraps one arm around Bruce’s back to support him and strokes his hair with the other. “It’s okay to be scared Bruce.” He tells him. “But I’m always going to be here for you.”
He yawns again, longer this time, he can’t stop it. He’s probably going to have to get used to this. Bruce is clinging to him too tightly to pull him free without damaging the shirt so he climbs into bed beside him and pulls the blanket over them both. Bruce’s breathing is already slowing as he closes his eyes.
“Always gonna be here.” Dick mutters and slips easily back to sleep with Bruce clinging to his shirt like a baby bat.