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It began in the nights before the Joker shot him, and everything fell apart. But Dick had other things on his mind then – his missions with the Titans, his plans with Alfred to design him a new costume, his constant fights with Bruce.
Their conflicts were ever escalating, so when Dick was sitting in his room crying, screaming, raging, it didn’t really matter that sometimes the person who stared back at him from the mirror or a reflection in a shop-window wasn’t really him. It didn’t matter that sometimes reality rippled and bent, when Dick watched his own face contort in the car window, while Alfred drove him to the last few classes of his senior year.
And then, suddenly, very few things mattered as much as the fact that Bruce had taken Robin away: the last thing Dick had of his parents, besides a box with a handful of pictures and a leather jacket his mom had gifted his dad for their tenth wedding anniversary.
Bruce had an entire mansion filled to the brim with memorabilia and ways to remember – Dick only had the memories he carried in his soul and the name his mother had given him. And now... and now Bruce had taken that as well.
It wasn’t enough that the man had tried to take Dick’s independence; Gotham had already taken his parents, his family, his culture- No, Bruce had to take that last ounce of his identity: the part of him that only belonged to Dick.
And then Bruce told him to leave.
Dick still wasn’t sure how he managed to leave Gotham as quickly as he had. He wasn’t even sure which bus had carried him this far into the midwest. He didn’t know what God was watching over him and ensuring he wouldn’t get killed, while his mind was miles away, his tears wet and lonely on his cheeks.
Bruce had fired him.
Bruce had thrown him out of the only home Dick had known in years, had taken away a part of his soul, and now… now there was nothing Dick had left.
He had his name – Richard John Grayson – and he had a duffle bag with his favorite clothes and Zitka. Alfred had stuffed a few hundred dollar notes into the bag, when he thought Dick hadn’t been looking, and Dick knew that this money was all he had.
He was eighteen as of a week ago, and he was no longer even tied to Bruce Wayne legally.
Batman had lost his partner – Robin, the one person he could trust above all else.
Dick had lost his dad – and that hurt so much more.
He felt as if crying was the only thing he had done since he left the Manor, the burden of his future laying heavy in his hands.
The world in front of his eyes was blurry, corn field after corn field passing by.
What was his goal? What would Dick Grayson do next?
He had no idea. Dick had friends, of course, but they didn’t deserve to be burdened by this; and all the other people he knew, the adults he called uncle and aunt… well, all of them were Bruce’s friends first. No one would side with him, and none of them would understand what Robin was for Dick.
What the name meant and what it represented.
They would just--- they would just be happy that Dick had left the game – that he had been forced out of it, that it was anyone’s choice but his – because they had never liked his involvement in crime fighting. They would be happy, and Dick couldn’t risk being disappointed like this ever again.
His reflection changed in the window again, bright eyes replacing blue tired ones. Dick closed his eyes before his stress muddled brain tried to tell him even more lies. He wanted… he wanted his dad back, and a hug from his mom. He wanted the circus, and home, and love….
He wanted Bruce and that hurt the most. For so long Dick had acted as if Bruce was nothing more than a guardian on trial, and even when that changed, even as Dick eased into his role by Bruce’s side, even as he came to love the man and came to see him as his second father… Bruce felt nothing.
Bruce had ended his trial as Dick’s father the moment he chose to take something from Dick that didn’t belong to him, and yet… Dick’s heart felt as if it was being ripped in two, the longing for Bruce’s strong hands and his small smile so strong, a new wave of tears spilled from his eyes, coating his cheeks.
Another corn field passed by, sorrow heavy in his chest, as his eyes remained unseeing. Even if Dick chose to try and see the world… there was nothing worth seeing. All he could spot was corn, disappointment, abandonment and loneliness.
All he could see was a lack of Bruce by his side.
The bus came to a halt in front of a small fuel station. Dick turned around, but all he could see in every direction was corn, and a single road dividing it down in the middle. The bus driver then turned around in his seat, and addressed the entire coach:
“Fifteen minutes break – Piss, drink, eat. I won’t wait for any of you.”
And with that the man was gone. Dick glanced in the direction of the other passengers – two old ladies nearing seventy, traveling together clearly, and a middle-aged man with a beer belly – he decided that fresh air might help.
Dick could always breathe better under the open sky than in the depressive rooms of a building.
It was hot and humid when he left the bus behind, the sky an electric blue above him, the fields surrounding him a stark yellow. It looked magical, like a postcard or a painting. Dick could almost feel himself smile.
The crickets were loud, and it smelled like… it smelled like freedom. Maybe Dick could do this again: travel and see the world, meet new people and breathe air from around the globe. Maybe Dick could find his circus again.
Maybe Dick could reclaim something Bruce had taken away from him, by returning to the place that had started it all.
A dark cloud then laid itself over his thoughts, as a reminder of what Bruce had done sneaked back into his mind. No one could sour Dick’s mood like Bruce could. No one unlike the man who had once called himself Dick’s guardian, could make him regret his choices and his life.
Dick’s steps were no longer elevated, when he made his way towards the dingy bathroom the gas station offered, dread once again pooling heavy in his stomach.
He wanted to wash it all away, maybe shed his skin and leave Bruce behind, leave his past here – nobody would find Dick Grayson in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere.
He could become someone new, an entrepreneur - someone who had no history to drag him down, no sorrow to drown in. A new name, a new story, a new life.
That sounded nice – nicer in any case than the dirty bathroom greeting him now, the walls full of gravity, the air heavy with stink. Luckily Dick didn’t have to use the toilet stalls, his destination was only the faucet.
The water was surprisingly cool as it ran over his hands, the relief was almost immediate when he splashed some of it in his face. A layer of dust was being washed away, and Dick could feel himself stand a little bit taller when he checked his red rimmed eyes in the mirror.
Only it wasn’t his own eyes staring back at him.
Or… it kind of was, but different. Very different.
The person in the mirror had tanner skin, freckles Dick knew he had somewhere, suddenly more pronounced in his face. The stranger’s hair was shorter, and his eyes, they looked so happy. Dick couldn’t remember when the last time had been that he had looked like that: relaxed and calm and happy.
The stranger wrinkled his forehead in confusion, and when he raised his hand, Dick felt compelled to do the same.
It was a bad idea, Dick had heard of time stream disturbances, and universe travel, he had fought against magic and monsters and men, alongside superhumans and aliens… he knew something strange was going on, he knew he shouldn’t touch the mirror.
And yet… his hand touched the glass, and the surface of the mirror rippled until Dick could no longer see the strange reflection opposite to him. Then the mirror cleared, and it was his own face staring back at him.
The bags underneath his eyes, the scar faintly running from the corner of his lip down to his neck, the skin pale from almost nine years under Gotham’s gray sky. He had been left with his own face as he knew it.
What a disappointing result of something that could have easily been so magical. Dick needed a little adventure right now, something small to keep his thoughts away from the fact that he truly had no more family, not even an adopted one.
He continued to stare at his face, in the hopes of something happening, another clue or hint of a twist. All he achieved was an itch in his left eyebrow, and a bone deep sense of failure.
With a sigh he stepped back. He was ready to return to the bus before he was left stranded in the middle of nowhere, and then he heard a voice calling to him from outside:
“Dick! Hurry up! We want to reach Indianapolis at some point in this century!”
He… Dick didn’t recognize the voice. Unease settled in his bones. He… he had told no one his name - and besides him and the people in the bus, no one had been at the gas station. Why was someone using his name? Why did they think they had a common destination?
The voice had sounded female, not old, but also not very young. Warm – if Dick had to describe it with an adjective. The voice had sounded warm and welcoming and a little bit annoyed.
His own words were stuck in his throat – maybe something did happen, maybe he had traveled the universe, or he destroyed the space-time continuum. All Dick knew that he was afraid of leaving this disgusting, and smelly bathroom behind… because he had no idea what was waiting for him on the other side.
“Dick? You’ve been in there for almost twenty minutes already! If you don’t get your ass out of there right now, we’re leaving without you! You can explain to the college advisors why Richard Grayson is stranded in the middle of a road in bumfuck Indiana instead of attending his campus tour of Indianapolis U!”
His body reacted almost automatically, opening the door without him realising he’d moved.
There was a woman there, standing on the other side of the door: dark brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, a loose flowery blouse was decorating a lean and fit body. A frown was worn on her warm and open face, her deep brown eyes staring up at Dick.
She wasn’t that much smaller than him, maybe two or three inches, but it wasn’t her height that made Dick’s heart stop.
He knew those eyes. He knew the eyes and the nose, and the dimples decorating her cheeks. She was older than Dick could ever recall her to be, and there were wrinkles on her face he didn’t recognize… but it was undoubtedly the face of his mother that greeted him on the other side of the bathroom door.
“There you ar- Dick? Honey? You look so pale… Is everything alright?...I didn’t mean it - we wouldn’t leave you here - Anyway, I wouldn’t survive the trip there alone in the car with your dad – nobody can help me veto the Beatles for the fifth time in a row.”
She… she was talking, and Dick’s brain had stopped processing.
It was his mother. His dead mom. His mami.
The woman he had watched fall to her death nine years prior, when he had been younger, smaller, unable to help… He had watched her die – and his life had never been the same since.
Why was she standing in front of him now? Why- why was she looking at him with concern in her face, and gray hairs in her bun that hadn’t been on any of the photos Dick had managed to find?
His legs felt weak, and it came to no surprise – at least not to him – when his knees gave out and he sank onto the floor. His mom followed him down, her hands hovering an inch above his skin, as if she was afraid of touching him.
Maybe she wasn’t real. Maybe she would vanish the moment they touched.
Dick… what was he supposed to do? He… only moments earlier he had had no family left, he had been really, truly, alone and now his dead mother was standing in front of him, talking about car rides with tati, and college campuses… He… nothing in his quite so crazy life could have ever prepared him for this.
“Mami?”
He couldn’t help himself, he had to know. His own voice was so small, so weak – it reminded him of the broken whisper that had been left of his voice, after he had screamed himself hoarse watching policemen take care of his parent’s bodies.
The woman – his mother – in front of him, blinked, the concern in her face growing deeper and more immediate:
“Honey, is everything alright? You haven’t--- You haven’t called me that since you were a child… I… John! JOHN! Come over here!”
Her voice was still powerful and strong, just like Dick remembered it to be. She had sounded just like this whenever Marco the elephant caretaker had let Dick play with the animals without supervision. Dick had been afraid of this voice his entire childhood, and yet it was one of the few auditory memories he had been able to hold onto.
Everything else…
He had forgotten how deep brown her eyes were, the tender curve of her lips. His face was so similar to hers. How could he have forgotten the way she smelled? It was a mixture of myrrh and sweat and... chalk…
Dick had forgotten what his mom smelled like; he had forgotten how potent that aroma had been, traveling with his mother wherever she went… he had forgotten, and now she was standing in front of him, and it was just like it had been before, like she had never left him.
The chalk tingled in his nose and Dick…tears began spilling down his cheeks. Chalk had been his childhood, his hands permanently stained white. He had always smelled like the white powder, and sometimes he would even have the taste of it on the tip of his tongue. It was the substance central to their life as performers.
Each morning his mom would check the chalk pouch hidden in their costumes, making sure they would never run out. Then, each evening after his mami had gone to bed, his tati would fill them up, making sure his wife didn’t have to worry unnecessarily in the morning.
It was a sword to his heart, a sledgehammer to his memory. He had forgotten so much. How could he have forgotten the chalk?
His mom was saying something, and Dick really did his best to try to hear her words – he had so few memories of her speaking left that he was still able to recall – but it was getting harder and harder. His eyes were stinging, his ears were ringing… his mind was lost in all the things he had forgotten.
His mom was smaller than him now.
She was smaller than an eighteen year old Dick– but once, she had been the tallest person he knew: when he had been nine and she told him that he couldn’t eat the goulash now, her face stern and far above him. Or when she hugged him, and he would vanish in her embrace, her body warm and comforting over his.
He had missed this.
He had missed her.
His breath came in short bursts, everything was too much, and the world was a carousel of color. He was getting lost in this maelstrom of emotions – and at the same time he never wanted the storm to stop.
What if he opened his eyes and his mother was gone? What if he turned around and was alone again? Dick was so sick of being alone – he was so, so sick of it. He just wanted his mami and his tati and the childhood that was taken from him.
He was still sobbing – his chest was aching from the unexpected sight of his mami, and his lungs failed to draw a breath – when a pair of strong arms encircled him, pressing him close.
Bruce…?
No, his mind caught up with his heart, and Dick pried his eyes open, looking into another familiar set. These were a deep blue color – not Bruce’s ice-cold – but his father’s electric and sky blue. His… dad… his tati… Dick began to cry even harder.
His tati’s hugs were just as tender as he recalled them being. Dick couldn’t fail to notice that he was almost as tall as the man. He had been tiny in comparison the last time he had seen his dad, sitting on his tati’s shoulders as the man showed him Italy, telling him great tales of lion tamers and travelers.
Dick… the stories had been a big part of what had shaped Dick growing up. His father would tell him a new one each night before he went to bed. Dick never heard a story twice, tati would always find another wonder to share with Dick, another mystery to solve together– with his son.
The leather jacket Dick had inherited from his dad no longer smelt like the man in question, the aroma of chalk and sweat and burned bread that might escape into the air, until the jacket eventually smelt like Dick… it had never bothered Dick before, after all, the jacket was one of the only things he had left of his parents, but now, soaking in the embrace of his father, Dick couldn’t help and drink in the aroma of home… the aroma of his lost family.
His shoulders were shaking, his face a mess of snot and tears, but Dick couldn’t care less.
He had gotten his parents back. He had gotten his mami and his tati back, and everything would be alright now.
Only earlier that day, Dick had been at his lowest, at his loneliest, and now he had gotten the two people back he missed most.
It felt like hours until he calmed down, until he could hear the voices of his parents again over the roaring in his ears. They weren’t talking to him, probably thinking that Dick had given into the exhaustion pulling him down, that he was sleeping in the arms of his dad.
But Dick couldn’t sleep, couldn’t let this moment go, every single part of his soul was afraid they would be gone, should he close his eyes now.
“- do you think it is the stress of college? I mean, we thought it would do something good for him, but… did he ever actually say that he wanted to go to college?”
“Now you’re projecting, Mary. Just because you don’t want your bird to fly on his own, doesn’t mean that this was a mistake. Sometimes… the stress just got to him. Too many things happened in these last few months.”
Their voices were so comforting, his mother’s soothing alto, the lovely baritone of his father… Dick could spend an eternity like this, listening to his parents talk, sitting safe between them– their bodies warm and alive next to him.
“But look at how pale he is! How didn’t we notice this, John? How did I not notice this? – Do you think it’s drugs?”
“It’s not drugs! He’s just… after Willow almost died, and the fire… and the girl… first love is never easy, especially when his ended in tragedy. ”
Dick had no idea what his parents were talking about now. He couldn’t remember anyone named Willow existing at the circus, and his first love was an Alien Princess with hair like fire, and kisses that made him feel all tingly inside.
But still that wasn’t what made him stop… no, something else his father had said had kicked his mind into gear, and once again his mouth was moving faster than this brain:
“What fire?”
Both his mom and dad flinched back, Dick felt sorry– especially when his dad untangled himself from Dick, and the precious contact was suddenly gone.
He was sitting between them, the door of the disgusting bathroom to his back, his mom to his left, his dad – one arm still slung over Dick’s shoulder – to his right.
It felt so… right, correct, fulfilling.
It felt so good.
Night had fallen over the gas station in the middle of nowhere. The air was still warm, the crickets were even more active and loud. The corn didn’t look yellow anymore – it looked daunting.
For a moment neither of them spoke, his mom and dad turned to each other with a look Dick couldn’t read. Then his mother spoke, caution heavy in her voice:
“The fire in the circus? – A month ago? Willow got hurt… Dick you remember that, right?”
Dick wanted to say yes… he wanted to ease the worry from her face and make her smile again... Dang, he wanted to see his mom smile, and see her eyes alight with fire, but he couldn’t lie to her.
Instead, he shook his head, and he watched as her expression fell, something unsettling stirring in her gaze:
“Who are you?”
She sounded so harsh, and not even his dad’s loud cry of “Mary!” could stop the hurt from piercing his heart. New tears threatened to spill, and Dick could do little more than watch, as his mom untangled herself from him, ceasing any connection between them as she stood up:
“No, you are not my son. I knew something was weird, and with all that magic happening last month I shouldn’t be surprised… but, –who are you and where is my son?”
She was standing firm and strong in front of him, hands on her hips… she looked like a true mother, a lion, ready to kill to defend her cub. His dad, still by Dick’s side, let his gaze wander between Dick and his wife, as if he was trying to decide which scenario was more likely: His wife making a mistake, or Dick being someone else than the son they loved.
In the end his trust in his wife must have won out, because the man stood up, leaving Dick alone and shivering on the steps of the gas station bathroom.
“Who are you, kid?”
John – hid dad! – sounded less harsh, more confused than anything else. And Dick answered with a heavy and small voice, so exhausted his tears were too tired to spill:
“I’m… I’m your son. I’m Richard ‘Dick’ John Grayson, son of John and Mary Grayson nee Lloyd, the world’s best acrobats, famous for their quadruple somersaults and their daring stunts.”
Somehow his words must have been the wrong ones, because his dad took a step back. Dick didn’t like it, so he kept on talking. He had to get them to like him, he had to make them understand – he was all alone, they were all he had:
“… you’re my only living family. And… and we performed… perform in a traveling circus, Haly’s. It’s one of the last big top circuses in America, and we even have an elephant when we aren’t on foreign tour. Zitka… she’s my best friend.”
She was. Zitka had been his partner and crime, he and the elephants had remained friends throughout his entire life. But whatever he had said, his words seemed to push his parents further and further away from him. He didn’t know what he was doing, but it was obviously something wrong.
Maybe this world was more different than Dick had anticipated… maybe –maybe this had all been a mistake.
“Um, we… we live in our small trailer, and I… slept in a bunk in the closet when I was small, because we didn’t have the room for a third bed, and-“
“Stop.”
“And we…”
“Please, stop speaking.”
“Mary– ”
“No, John, I need to say something.”
Dick had fallen silent, but the quiet weighed heavy on his chest. He wanted to continue. Maybe the pain would stop, if he could explain to them how much he loved them. Maybe the pain would stop, if they could understand that they were Dick’s family.
But now Dick was forced to listen to his mom, she was holding his death warrant, probably not even knowing it:
“I don’t know who you are… but I can see that you think you know us. I just… Haly’s hasn’t been a big top circus for some eight years now. We aren’t… we aren’t the big daring Flying Grayson’s you think we are, not after that accident in Gotham. We do travel in the summer, for sure, but most of the year we’re stationed in Santa Barbara… I… I’m sorry, but we are not who you think we are.”
“You are my parents. The only ones I have…”
He was sobbing again. Only minutes earlier, Dick had thought himself to be too tired to spill another tear –but what else was he supposed to do?
He had been given hope! He had dared to hope that just this once the universe was on his side!
Bruce had thrown him out of the house, Alfred had silently complied … his parents had been dead for nine years. Was it really Dick’s fault for hoping and wishing and wanting his family back – when everything else had just been taken from him?
Was it his fault for believing that… the versions of his parents he was allowed to meet were anything more than another way for the world to taunt him?
He was so tired. So lonely. So small.
“You are my mami and my tati… I have no one else….”
This time he must have chosen the right words, because his dad’s hand was heavy on his shoulder, familiar and yet so foreign – he had missed this. He had missed this so, so much.
“I… I don’t think you are the Dick I know… But I am pretty sure that you are my kid. So… let us help you. And… maybe we can find a way to get our Dick back, while we’re at it, yeah?”
His dad sounded so unsure, so cautious, and Dick wanted the strong arms back, the tight hug, the embrace that felt as if it might weather a war. He wanted something to be secure in his life, someone to protect him and care for him… someone who didn’t hurt him.
“I don’t know where your Dick is… I haven’t met him.”
His mom watched the two of them from a safe distance, something fierce in her stance, while he looked so small and old… She was still an imposing figure, but the child of days past couldn’t reconcile his memory with the woman in front of him.
Finally, she spoke:
“So, you… you aren’t my son. But you’re a version of him?”
Dick only nodded.
“What happened… why are you alone? Family looks after each other.”
He shouldn’t… no… it wasn’t… the multiverse or whatever this was… but… Dick was just so tired. So exhausted. He had been abandoned by his guardian, ripped from his heritage and what he was owed, and… and now his mother wanted to know why he was alone:
“You died. That… that accident in Gotham? Yeah, for my family that ended pretty deadly. You fell… without me. You left me behind! I was alone!… you left me… I was… my parents… you… you left me…”
Dick was rambling, his words had stopped making any sense, his emotions a whirlwind of things he never got to tell his own parents. He never got to deal with the anger that came when someone died – everyone always told him it was okay to be sad. Nobody had told him what to do with the anger –the betrayal. The pain that reached so deep, you were afraid it would shred your soul.
“I was nine… I was nine and you left me behind… in Gotham… you let them hurt me… alone… I was so alone… and then… and then came Bruce---”
Bruce had saved him. From Gotham and her hungry jaws, and from himself – Dick was ready to destroy himself, the hole inside of him was so strong and deep.
“And then came Bruce… and… and it was better… but he left me as well… everyone… just… why did you die? Why did you have to die? I was nine… I was nine… I was a child…”
He was no longer making any sense… how long had he thought these words without ever telling anyone about them? How long had he closed off this part of himself, had forbidden even himself from thinking about the fact that at the end of the day… he was angry.
He was angry that his parents had died. That Gotham had been allowed to claim him. That Batman existed. That Dick wasn’t enough… he was never enough…
He was never enough.
His mom and dad – Mary and John – were staring at him with confusion in their eyes and worry on their faces. You could see that they at least loved each other, they had similar ways to raise their eyebrows, and their bodies spoke of trust.
Dick had no idea if his own version of his parents had behaved like that – they had been dead for so long by now, there was never a chance for him to remember.
It was John who recovered first, his hand squeezing Dick’s shoulder tight again:
“I’m sorry for your loss. And I’m sorry… I’m sorry that this other version of me – hah! – that this other John… didn’t get to see his son grow up. From what I can tell, you are a fine young lad, and I’m sure your parents would have been proud of you – I am extremely proud of my Dickie – but… We are not your parents, as much as it hurts to say that.”
Dick wanted to curl up into a ball, and stop listening. He didn’t need to hear these words… he knew they were true, he knew they would hurt…. He wanted to become one with the corn, vanish into the night… he wanted to stop existing, if not even his parents could love him.
He just needed someone to love him.
Mary had stepped closer as well, and her voice was so soft – it was his mom’s voice, his mom’s eyes, his mom’s smell:
“You… I am Mary Grayson, not the one you’re searching for, but I am Mary Grayson… and maybe… maybe I’m a bit harsh sometimes, or a bit fast and loud… but there is not one universe in which I wouldn’t love my son. I would kill for my Dickie, and I am sure your mami, your Mary, would have done the same… and I am sure, she regrets nothing more than to miss a chance to see her son grow up.”
What was he supposed to do with this? What wound were these words supposed to heal?
Dick just wanted a mom and a dad… his mami and tati, who told him stories of their travels, and who cooked food that reminded them of their time before the circus. He wanted…
Fuck it, he wanted Bruce back as well. He wanted the grunts and the hidden smiles, and the ice cream at 4am in the Manor kitchen, where they both acted as if Alfred didn’t know that they were there…
He missed… he missed the feeling of home, of belonging and childhood. And home had always been its people, a place nothing more than a word, but his heart tied to those who asked for it.
“I’m sorry. I am sorry for being such a mess, and I am sorry for not being your son. I am sorry… so sorry… I am… I just… I am just so sorry.”
They were hugging him now. Both of them.
It felt like home – but it also felt so wrong.
It was a betrayal on the deepest level, his heart aching with longing for a man Dick had sworn to never return to. His heart ached for Bruce, for the nine years they had spent together as guardian and ward… father and son.
But he could have neither now, could he?
He couldn’t have this version of his parents, who saw their son grow up, who loved their child with their entire heart… but he also couldn’t have Bruce back, the angry grimace Batman had worn when he threw Dick away, forever burned into his memory.
What could he have then? What was his home if not… this?
“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s quite understandable, I think, I would be pretty devastated as well, should I suddenly step into a world in which my dead loved one was alive. And so soon after losing another family member as well…”
Mary’s voice was so soft, and Dick did his best to etch it into his memory. This might not be his mami, but they sure as hell shared the same voice. He buried his face into her neck, breathing in the familiar smell, and mumbled:
“He isn’t dead.”
“What?”
“Bruce isn’t dead. He threw me out. I was… I was his ward, he saved me from the system and the Juvie hall… I thought we were family, I thought he could be my dad… but I’m eighteen now, and we fought and… and now I’m here… in the middle of nowhere… he threw me out… He took Robin away…”
And I have nowhere else to go, Dick didn’t say that though. It wasn’t exactly true, after all, even if every single one of his options felt like a bad one, even if the possibility of asking for help felt like losing.
“Robin?”
His dad’s – John’s – voice was enraged, even though he was whispering.
What the employees of this gas station were thinking, hearing crying and yelling from behind their little spot of humanity for hours now, the sounds never moving far? Would the employees check on them soon? And what would his parents’ answer be? ‘Sorry, this is an interdimensional traveler who is impersonating our missing son, we are taking care of it’?
“Yeah, Robin, the name you- my parents calle-“
“The name I called you, because you were born on the first day of spring, with an ease in your steps that made it hard to keep you on the ground. I remember, even if you did your best to outgrow that nickname over the years. But how can someone take your name away?”
Dick didn’t want to look at Mary, the sound of her voice so soothing, her body so alive next to his. He wanted desperately to get used to this, he wanted this to be his normal. But it wasn’t:
“I… have you heard of the Batman?”
“That… that was the hero in Gotham, right? Or was that ManBat?”
“Batman… Bruce Wayne, the man who took me in… he is Batman. And I was so… lost, after you… after my parents died, that I created something to… to help Batman. I created Robin – used your name for me, to protect me when I was out on the streets fighting crime. And he took it away… he took Robin… he took everything I still have left…”
Dick was just so tired, so exhausted. He had been running for what felt like ages, his body and mind were always on the move. He was running away from his feelings, but they were catching up. He was running away from Gotham and Bruce and the life he had led…
He was just so tired. He wanted to sleep and be safe.
Surrounded by mirror images of his parents it almost felt like he could have that, if there wasn’t… if there wasn’t one small thing:
“I think I know how to get your son back.”
It had been the thought about mirror images, that had brought him to this realisation, the prelude to this adventure being nothing more than just a series of moments caught in glass and silver.
Immediately John and Mary perked up, and Dick did his best not to let it hurt. They weren’t trying to hurt him… they just loved their son. Just as his parents would have loved him, if they had ever gotten the chance to watch him grow up.
“How?”
“I need to go back through the mirror and your son needs to do the same. We gotta switch back… I have… I have to return to… to my world.”
Where I am lonely, and my parents are nothing more than rusty stains on the floor and gravestones they would never have wanted…
He didn’t say that, of course, but all three of them heard it.
“Dick…”
“No… no, it’s alright. Your son… he seems… oh, wow, this is weird, but… he seems nice. You love him very much. I can see that – I would want my parents back as well, and not some other version of them.”
That was a lie, but one Dick had to say so all of them could walk away from this. If he didn’t lie… if he told them he was so lonely that he would stay with them forever if he could, even if he wasn’t their son, and even if they weren’t his parents… he didn’t know what they would do, and the fear of rejection sat too heavy in his heart.
Mary was looking at him, John was a silent presence in his back, and she was speaking only to him when she said:
“Thank you. I know this can’t be easy. I can’t even begin to imagine how much this must hurt… I wish, I could help, I wish I could protect you… but I can’t, not even the mighty Mary Grayson is that strong. But I can… I can tell you this: Robin was my name for you, and unless you let them, nobody can take it away from you. Not even the ManBat… not even someone you love like family. You know why? Because Robin lives inside of you - even if you no longer carry that name publically - you will always carry Robin in your heart.”
She meant it. Mary Grayson looked into Dick’s eyes and she meant it – it was her name for him, across universes.
The tears they shared were silent, a peace offering, a small bit of comfort.
Dick’s soul was being ripped apart. This must be what dying felt like. John’s hands were firm, when they came to lie on top of Dick’s arms, and when he turned around the man was smiling, a tight and painful look in his eyes:
“I can… the jacket you are wearing… is that mine?”
“Um… yeah, it was one of the… one of the few things the CPS let me take from the circus when you… when my… when you died.”
“I have mine with me – the same one. I would… can we switch them? Is that okay with the multiverse?”
“I would think so… why?”
John was caressing Dick’s cheek, and suddenly he was seven again, sneaking into his parent’s closet, stealing his father’s beloved jacket to try it on and parade around.
“I… It’s not every day you meet a traveler from another world. And it isn’t every day that you lose a son you never had the chance to get to know. I would… like it if I had something from you – and you from me… Though I understand why you might choose not to do that.”
His words had been stolen away, so Dick only nodded. Yes, he would exchange his jacket for John’s… maybe it would smell like Dick remembered it to smell… maybe this time Dick would be able to hold onto the memory of his parents for longer. Tighter. Better.
It felt as if they were dying again, Dick left alone an orphan for what felt like the third time in his pitifully short life. Only this time… his parents survived. It was Dick who would return into a world in which they were dead - it was Dick who would bring something of them with him, while they lived their lives.
It was as if everything was happening too fast after that… suddenly Dick was wearing John’s leather jacket, which had a hole Dick wasn’t familiar with but smelled just like he remembered it, and he was standing in front of the mirror that had brought him here.
He was shaking.
This was it.
Goodbye, fantasy land and welcome horrible reality.
Mary and John were standing behind him, their presence giving him strength, but also torturing him. He would be forced to leave them behind, he would be forced to return into a world without his parents, without their love…
He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough for that.
His gaze found the dirty bathroom mirror nonetheless, and it weren’t his eyes that stared back. No, the face in the mirror was tanner, less weighted down by the world.
“It’s working. Your son is on the other side…”
Dick couldn’t--- he raised his hand without waiting for an answer, but before his fingers could touch his counterpart’s, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. When he looked up it was John, a somber look on his face:
“Don’t let anybody tell you who or what you are, son. You are a Flying Grayson, and you will always stay one. Nobody pushes you around.”
Mary’s hand came to lay on his other side, her voice just as firm, just as strong:
“I love you – and I know your mom thinks the same thing wherever she is now. Look after yourself and never forget your worth. I’m sorry we couldn’t do more for you.”
He would miss them. He would miss them so badly, a piece of his heart forever staying with them.
“I love you, even if you aren’t my mami and tati… and I’m… thank you… thank you for reminding me what they smelled like and sounded like… what their hugs felt like… I was starting to forget them, and that… that felt a little bit like dying.”
“Forgetting the past is okay - it is normal. And, hey, they will always be with you – parents never leave their children. We can’t, we love you so much, losing you is the worst that can happen. Your mom is in there, I am sure, and your dad is right by her side and they love you, Dick. They love you so, so much.”
Before Mary could hug him again, before Dick could be the coward he wanted to be – running away, staying here, never returning to his own reality – he pushed forward, his eyes closed as his hand touched the mirror.
When he opened his eyes again, he was alone.
It was late in the night, maybe early morning, the first shades of grey coloring the mist, and Dick was… he was back, backpack long gone with the bus that had brought him here, the clothes he was wearing the only thing he owned.
It was his very own reflection that greeted him when he looked into the mirror, his face blotchy and red from all the crying.
He took a deep breath, his eyes finding the worn leather jacket, the way it was so clearly the jacket of someone else …
He allowed himself a small smile, grief burning him from the inside. He was hurting - and how could he not? - but maybe for the first time ever, it felt like something good. It felt like something close to healing, instead of dying.
At least he wasn’t completely alone – the memory of home and the smell of family accompanied him, as he stepped out of the bathroom, and into the unknown.