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Dick breathes in the cold morning air. It stings his lungs and burns his nose, but the rest of his body is still warm from the moving. The sun is rising in the dirty Blüdhaven horizon, shining through tall buildings, small houses and the few skyscrapers that color this part of the neighbourhood with their faded grays and shiny glass windows. It’s the best spot in the city. Not the highest one, being only about four or five stories tall, but it is the most comfortable, and provides a great view of the sun.
Some civilians have seen him there once or twice. Sometimes there’s a bit of food or some band-aids left there for him. This time, someone had left him Cinderella band-aids and a bottle of water, still chilled. They mark the gifts with a Nightwing sticker, or a drawing, or just his name. Eventually they’ll get it wrong, and he’ll fix it, leaving the corrected paper on the floor, weighted down by rocks, or a piece of wood, or whatever else he could find. Whenever he can, he leaves them a note with a smiley and a thank you.
He carefully puts the band-aid over the small cuts on his face; one on the chin, one on his right cheek, and one on the bridge of his nose. There are two left, and he keeps those for himself. Dick had been saving plenty of money with the gifts. Most of them were colorful and had some cartoon character on them. Someone must’ve started a rumor that Nightwing liked his bandages better when they were thematic. Not that it bothered him; he had started using some of those because they were cheaper – the civilians probably picked up on it and thought it was a matter of taste.
He looks down, taking a sip from the water bottle. This is the time of his day that is dedicated to thinking. Whenever he has the time to sit down and watch the sun rise, the silence and peace surrounding him force him to recall events and conversations his mind feels the need to take a second look at, either trying to make sense of it, or rejoicing in the good moments. This time, he found himself replaying a recent conversation with Batman, a weird one. But which one of those weren’t weird?
Dick sighs, bringing the bottle to his lips once again.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
What was that supposed to mean? Dick wanted advice, help, not a bland pep talk. Maybe Bruce had a bit too much confidence in him. Maybe that’s where it came from; the thought that Dick was already beyond his capacity to help, at least in that regard. Maybe it was that Dick had already surpassed him in the things that truly matter, at least to the Bat’s eyes. But it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.
It felt as if he was a hassle. A nuisance. It felt as if Dick had to shut up and get out of the cave , leave him and Damian alone because they had work to do, more important things to think about.
Oh yeah. Damian.
It didn’t help in the slightest that the kid had walked in on them and hidden in the shadows, fidgeting with his cape, before and after making his whereabouts known as he cleared his throat. The boy clearly wanted no part in the conversation, and certainly wished he hadn’t heard whatever it is that he did (Dick wasn’t sure on how much he heard. It seems like it was enough.).
Nightwing takes one more sip of the water before leaning his head back and allowing the few rays of sun to hit the exposed parts of his neck and face. The sky was tinted by a faded orange now, growing blue with every second that passed by. He looked down. A civilian was entering the building he was sitting on. She looked up at him, smiling in the kindest way he had ever seen anyone smile, and waved.
He waved back.
“Full night?” She asks.
Nightwing nods.
“I can see that yours was too.” He smiles back.
“A little, yes.” She steps back to better look at the man “My kid keeps leaving those to you, huh?” She points at him, probably mentioning the Cinderella stickers.
“Well, that’s kind of them.” He rubs a thumb over the plastic material “Helps me save up for other stuff. What’s their name?”
“Thomas.” She smiles.
“Beautiful name.” He grins “Thank him for me. And thank you, for paying for them.” He giggles.
“No problem.” She answers “We all like having you around, y’know?” She slaps her keys against her hands slightly “We all pitch in on the band-aids.”
“You’re all very kind.” He looks to the floor, smiling fading a little “I’m not sure I deserve so much of your money.”
“Oh, please boy.” She laughs “It’s band-aids and water. Not exactly expensive.”
“Still...”
“Let me stop you right there.” She is still smiling “We do this because we want to thank you. You made this neighbourhood safe. Hell, I’m not even afraid to let my son walk home from school any more ever since you got here.” There’s a bit of silence as her eyes dart to the ground before slowly going back up to him “If there’s ever anything you need, hero, all you have to do is ask.”
Dick is taken aback at that. Anything?
“Thanks.” He says. His mind speeds back to the conversation. Somewhere inside of him, there are red lights and alarms going off; don’t trust her she must be an impostor, she’s an enemy, don’t trust her, don’t trust her, don’t don’t don’t-
But he turns them off.
Those alarms have been screwed with by the Bat. They are Batman’s alarms, not Nightwing's.
Those are Bruce's Alarms.
Not Dick’s.
“Well, then... um, actually, if...” He starts, feeling his mouth dry up. It’s a good thing he had half a water bottle still “If you could spare me a minute ma’am, then... could you maybe offer me some advice?” He looks to his dangling feet, blushing with shame “I... I think I’m caught between a rock and a hard place, and I don’t know what to do next.”
She smiles gently at him.
“Sure, son.” She answers, and Dick lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding “Let me check on my boy and I’ll be right up there with you.”
Nightwing nods. He doesn’t try to smile back, hunching over a little.
“Thank you.”