Chapter Text
The Next Evening…
It was quiet. Too quiet. True, it was three in the morning, but Clint knew that Dick snored like a polar bear with a stuffy nose, so not hearing a sound at all was concerning. He always heard it since they shared a wall, and not having the familiar sound was making it hard for Clint to fall back asleep. So, he decided to grab his arm crutches and take a stroll to Dick’s room.
Dick’s empty room.
Clint crutched his way to Dick’s bathroom, but his best friend wasn’t there either.
“Where the fuck are you, Dickie?” Clint muttered to himself as he noticed the door to Dick’s balcony was open.
Leaving Dick’s room, Clint decided to check the kitchen out. Maybe Dick was having a mid-night cereal attack? He called for the elevator to come to the second floor so he could get down to the main level.
As he entered the elevator and went to touch the down button, Clint noticed that the keyhole “for emergencies” had moved the pointer from left to right. He had never seen it in that position before, and his finger traced the lock… and accidentally pushed it in.
The elevator door shut and started to move. Clint stumbled against the side railing as the box lowered in the shaft. The light above the door changed from 2 to 1… and after at least thirty seconds, to B.
The door slid open silently, revealing a dim cavern just beyond the elevator threshold. Clint carefully stepped out, taking in the metal ground that was suspended in the middle of a cave carved into stone.
He stood in a shadowed alcove, another floor above casting down its shadow over him. Not knowing what lurked in the cave, he stayed in the darkness while he got to know his surroundings.
The ground he was on ended about ten feet from the end of the shadows with a staircase that went down to what looked like the main floor. There was also a set of stairs going up to whatever was on the floor able him.
The main floor was huge and covered almost the entire opening of the cave. There was a long, wide strip of ground leading to the mouth of a smaller cave on one end. On the other sat the largest computer station that Clint had ever seen. Monitors towered upward, dwarfing the office chair that waited near the controls. Focusing his eyes, he could see switches, buttons, input ports, scanning pads, and a few integrated machines on the right side of the monitor station that he had no clue to their purpose. A large conduit ran from the shadows of the cave ceiling down to the computer.
This place is powered by the mansion, Clint realized. He gripped his crutch handles tighter, feeling anger eating away at his curiosity. If that was true, which it had to be if the elevator brought him from upstairs to here, that meant Bruce Wayne, his new father, wasn’t who he said he was.
The roaring of an engine startled Clint from his thoughts, and he watched a long, black car drive into the cave along the wide strip from the cave mouth. It stopped on a circular design etched onto the floor, and the floor spun to point the car back at the road leading away.
The top of the car slid back, and Clint watched a red and black-clad teenager jump out, his face covered by a mask and trailing a yellow and black cape behind him. “Are you sure you don’t need my help for this?” he asked, and Clint stopped breathing for a moment.
That was Dick’s voice. Dick was the one in the costume with a yellow R on his chest. And if that was Dick…
An ominous figure glided out of the car, dressed in black and grays with only his lips and chin visible. Clint found himself taking a step backward because he knew who the masked man was. It was The Batman. The protector of Gotham, the masked vigilante, the dark knight.
“I’m sure, Dick. You need to rest before school.” Batman pulled back his cowl, and Clint’s eyes widened.
Batman was Bruce Wayne. His adopted father was a costumed vigilante.
Panic started to settle in his chest as he thought about Trickshot and Swordsman. They were both masked men while on stage, and while doing their crimes. They were dark men when they wore their masks and took their anger out on him. And now, in a place they promised he was safe in… by the one person on Earth he trusted fully… he was back in the crosshairs.
He retreated for the elevator, but his crutches and legs decided not to move in the same direction, so he crashed to the floor.
“What was that?” Clint heard Bruce… Batman say.
“Don’t know,” Dick replied.
Clint dragged himself under the stairs, trying to hide. Would they kill him now that he knew this secret? What had he gotten himself into?
Bruce found him first. “Clint?” he asked, becoming a dark void in the shadows blocking Clint’s escape.
“Clint?” Dick ran to join them as Clint grabbed his crutch to use as a weapon.
“Stay back!” Clint shouted, swinging at the empty space between the three of them in warning.
Dick tore the mask off his face, the black makeup around his blue eyes turning his best friend into a raccoon. “Clint, calm down. It’s us.”
“I won’t… I won’t let you hurt me. I’m not…not going to… to do this again!” Clint was breathing hard, his chest tightening as he tried to find another way out. He debated on if he could slip between the stairs, but he wouldn’t be able to outrun them. Maybe if I got to the car first…
“Breathe, Clint.” Bruce lowered himself down to Clint’s level, his hands up to show he was unarmed. Clint knew that didn’t matter. Batman didn’t need weapons to hurt others.
“You… you lied…” He struggled to breathe now, gulping air as his throat tightened. “I…”
Bruce gently pushed the crutch to the floor as Clint started to see spots in his vision. “Clint, I’m going to reach for you and pull you out of there. Don’t fight me.”
Clint stiffened, the urge to push away combating with the fact he was shaking and unable to move. Tears came to his eyes at how easy Bruce was able to grab him and drag him closer, pulling him against his chest and wrapping the cape around him.
“You need to take deep breaths,” Bruce ordered, guiding Clint’s hand to press against his chest. “In. One…” Clint took a shaky breath, eyes closed. He could feel Bruce’s chest start to expand, and he forced his lungs to try and mimic it. “Two… three… four… five…”
“My word,” Alfred spoke up as he walked up behind the trio on the floor.
“And out. One… two… three… four… five.” Bruce and Clint breathed out together. They repeated the exercise as Dick stood up next to the butler.
“Clint got into the Batcave somehow and started to freak out when he saw B in the costume,” Dick explained.
“Well, seeing a grown man dressed as a bat would send anyone into a panic,” Alfred stated. “I believe that’s the preferable reaction to seeing the Batman.”
Bruce shot a look over Clint’s head at Alfred as he counted. Clint knew that Bruce and Alfred could have an entire conversation in silence with just looks, and he was certain that was happening now. He didn’t look up, focusing instead on listening to Bruce’s steady heartbeat and feeling his lungs slowly fill and empty. Each breath relaxed him bit by bit, and soon he relaxed into his adopted father’s arms, pressing his face into Bruce’s chest so no one could see him start to cry again.
Alfred took a deep breath. “I will get the fire going in the den along with a carafe of hot chocolate. Master Dick, I will require your help with this.”
Dick looked confused. “But shouldn’t I…?”
“I think Master Bruce will agree that both you and Master Clint have come down with a stomach bug and need to remain home tomorrow to prevent spreading it further.” Alfred motioned with his head to the stairs. “You can also take a moment to shower and change into your pajamas,” he continued as Dick followed. “That uniform needs a good cleaning and some quick repairs, I think.”
As Dick and Alfred walked away, Bruce stood up slowly, cradling Clint to his chest. Clint felt embarrassed, knowing he had to look pathetic right now, so he kept his face hidden. He didn’t need Bruce to count to five anymore for him to breathe, so now Bruce just remained quiet as he walked them to the elevator.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Bruce said softly as the elevator started its climb to the manor. “I just didn’t think you were ready to know. You needed to focus on healing, not on the problems that come from this kind of world.”
Clint didn’t speak, just clung to the edges of the cape. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t told Bruce yet about Trickshot or the Swordsman, or who they had made Clint become. Alfred and Dick knew only tiny pieces of a larger story, but he hadn’t told Bruce anything. It was partially because Clint rarely saw Bruce after moving into the manor, but also because he didn’t want this man, a man trying to actually be a father, to know how messed up Clint’s life had become when the Graysons died.
He knew exactly the kinds of problems that came when living behind a mask.
Before he knew it, they were in the den. The fire crackled, warming the room nicely. Bruce grabbed a thick blanket and used it to replace his cape before lowering Clint onto the couch. “If I go change, will you stay here? Alfred doesn’t approve of wearing the suits in the manor.”
Clint nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He couldn’t go far without his arm crutches anyway, and his wheelchair was back in his room. Bruce left, and Clint looked around the room. On the coffee table were two pens and a notebook. He quickly leaned over and grabbed the pens, wrapping them back in the blanket in case he needed a weapon. He was mostly certain that he wasn’t in danger, but he also knew that people could turn on you when you said the wrong thing.
Alfred entered the den a few minutes later carrying a tray with four mugs and a silver carafe. Dick was behind him, now dressed in his blue flannel pajamas, carrying a plate of sandwiches and cookies. “Here, we go. It’s dreadfully cold in that cave, so this should warm you right back up, Master Clint.”
Dick sat on the couch next to Clint, then blinked as Clint pulled his feet away from his best friend and curled up tighter. Before he could speak, Bruce entered wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. He sat down in an armchair next to Clint, reaching for a mug and pouring Clint a drink. “So you discovered our secret a little earlier than I had hoped, but hopefully it’ll make it easier now to understand why Dick and I tend not to be around at nights.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to find out,” Clint said, staring at the mug Bruce was holding. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Please just don’t hurt me.”
“Hurt you?” Bruce looked at Dick for backup. “Clint, we’re not going to hurt you. I know you may have heard stories of the Batman, but I’d never hurt a child, especially one of my own. My job is to protect people. You see, the three of us have something in common: we all lost our parents. Mine died in an alley after being shot by a mugger.”
“You already know what happened to mine,” Dick said softly, sipping from the mug Alfred had handed him.
“I became the Batman to make sure that would never happen again. When Dick came to live with me, he wanted to kill the man who killed his parents, but I taught him that justice is better than vengeance.”
“I chose to become Robin,” Dick stated. “And it’s crazy and dangerous but I love it. Mostly. I’m not fond of the paperwork side.”
Bruce gave Dick a look, and it managed to draw a snort out of Clint. Bruce smiled, holding the mug out again. “I will never ask you to do this. I brought you here to help you heal, to be with Dick, and to discover who you want to be and what kind of life you want for yourself. I don’t need another sidekick. And if when you’re healed, you want to be a part of this world, we can discuss it then.”
Clint took the mug this time, not fully relaxed but his body was less tense. “I didn’t have a choice,” he stated before taking a long sip from the cocoa. “They made me.”
“Who made you?” Dick asked. “Trickshot?”
Clint nodded. “And Swordsman. And Barney. If I didn’t, they’d beat me.”
Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “The hospital noticed you had multiple scars with various levels of healing. Dick informed the doctors about your past so that they wouldn’t ask you about it right away.”
“It’s not that. It got worse.” Clint looked at Dick. “Trickshot gave me a costume and a uniform.”
“Yeah, the Amazing Hawkeye,” Dick said.
“I needed to be the best. I needed to draw a crowd during the shows, but I needed to also be the lookout.” Clint stared into his mug. “He and Jacques would take me and Barney to rob homes at night. I was the smallest so I could slip through windows or dog doors to open them from the inside. Then I’d sit somewhere high and keep an eye on the house and the streets until they came out with whatever they stole.”
“Dear lord,” Alfred stated. “They forced you to become a thief?”
“If I told them no, Trickshot would whip me with a stick until I agreed to help. Barney didn’t even try to stop them.” Clint knew he should be crying at this, but he was too spent from earlier and he’d become numb to Trickshot’s abuse a long time ago.
Dick punched the back of the couch, getting everyone’s attention at the sudden jump in anger. “We knew it! My dad kept trying to figure out how to make them stop. My mom wanted to kidnap you when we left for Gotham. I should’ve just brought you home on one of my winter trips.”
“You can’t get angry at yourself for the past, Dick,” Bruce said, then looked at Clint. “What happened that night, Clint?”
Clint finished his cocoa and put it back on the table before curling back up in his blankets. “They were doing a big job while the circus was winding down but before they started to break everything down. I was on lookout and could see in the bedroom of the kid. He was happy but there weren’t a lot of toys. Every other place we hit the people were uber-rich, but this kid’s family wasn’t.
“It didn’t feel right. I mean, it never felt right, but this time I couldn’t stand it. So when a patrol car drove by, I fired an arrow into the hood of the car to get them to stop and start looking around. I just didn’t realize Barney saw me do it.”
Dick shifted on the couch, picking up Clint’s legs and draping them over his own lap before getting close enough to snuggle. Clint shook his head in amusement but leaned into his friend. “They chased me back to the circus. I ran up the ladder to the tightrope. I thought if I stayed up there long enough, either the cops would follow us, or the others would calm down enough. Instead, Barney had a gun.”
Clint rubbed at his eyes. Guess I haven’t run dry after all. “I remember getting hit and losing my balance. The next thing I know, I’m in the hospital. I don’t even remember telling the nurse to call Dick.”
Bruce sat back in his chair with his arms crossed. “We should alert the authorities to arrest them wherever they are now.”
“I’d rather they think I’m dead,” Clint said softly. “Then they won’t try and find me.”
“I’m so going to punch your brother if I ever see him again,” Dick growled.
“Okay, I’ll let you do that.”
The joke eased the tension in the room and Clint yawned. He had no idea what time it was now, and the hot chocolate was making him sleepy. Dick felt the same as he leaned more into Clint. Bruce noticed and stood up, reaching for another blanket to drape over them.
“Well, I think for now, you two need to get some sleep,” he said. “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow at lunch. Just remember, Clint, this is your home now. And here, we take care of each other. And no one will hurt you again as long as I can help it.”
“Thanks, Bruce,” Clint said, shifting with Dick to find a good sleeping position as they shared the couch. Alfred picked up the tray of mugs and food and left, and Bruce followed, turning off the lights and leaving the den’s door open a crack just so be able to hear if they needed something.
When they were gone, Clint looked over at his best friend. “So, Robin?”
“Yeah. I was going to tell you eventually, I swear,” Dick stated.
“You know, your parents would be proud. Throwing a fit at you putting yourself in danger, but still proud.”
“Thanks, Clint.”
Clint yawned and snuggled into Dick more. “When we wake up, you’re totally telling me all about your adventures.”
Dick chuckled. “Sure. Night.”
“Night.”