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“It's because of Barney, isn't it?”
Clint looked over at Dick. It was time that he told his friend the truth of what he'd done while he'd been gone. He needed to tell him everything, about the robberies and shooting Barney and killing a guard. He hadn't wanted to do it while Dick was still a mess over finding out he was alive, but something had gotten through to Batman, and Dick seemed better now. He hadn't said much about it, but he had said they'd talked.
“Dick...”
“He's old enough to be on his own now, isn't he? I forget how old he is, but then he'd always lie to me about it,” Dick went on. He leaned against the wall, and Clint picked up his sweatshirt, throwing it at him. Dick lifted it up with a frown. “If you want laundry done, you know Alfred would do it for you. I'm not taking it home with me.”
Clint shook his head. “We had this conversation before. You need to stop dressing like Robin when you come here.”
“And I told you it's safer for me to do it,” Dick muttered. He didn't put the sweatshirt on. “Even if Barney doesn't want to come live with Bruce or he's old enough not to, you can still come. You don't have to say no because of Barney.”
Clint let out a breath. He picked up his bow and turned it over in his hands. “How did you know to pay off Barney's hospital bills?”
Dick snorted. “I'm Robin, remember? Batman is the world's greatest detective, and I have access to his computer. Besides, I knew he'd found Barney once. When I knew you were alive, I found you again. Well, him, and then you.”
Clint nodded, swallowing hard. He needed to get this out while he still had a chance. “Did you notice why Barney was in the hospital?”
Dick frowned. “I didn't—You put him there? Were you really that mad at him for lying to you because I'm not worth—”
“I found out after I shot him,” Clint said. He almost threw his bow but couldn't. He couldn't let it go, even as much as he kept telling himself that he should. “I found out he was working as a security guard after I shot him. I... Trickshot and I were there to rob the place.”
Dick closed his eyes for a moment, and Clint thought maybe he'd lost his friend without even telling him about the guard he'd killed. Then Dick—Robin—had jumped up next to him and put his arms around him. “I'm sorry. I didn't—I was such a mess—I didn't even ask you what it was like or think about what you were going through. I couldn't think at all, but that's not an excuse. You had to take care of me when you needed someone to be there for you. I had people. I could have—”
“You didn't have people. You wanted to, and they should have been, but for some reason I don't understand, everyone holds back with you. They like you, but they won't get close, not the way you need. Not the butler, not your friend Barbara, and sure as hell not Bruce or Batman. It's like the circus. Everyone loved you, but you only really had your parents. I don't get it. How can they like you but not want to be your friend?”
“Alfred doesn't want to break class boundaries. Bruce is a mess from back when his own parents were killed, and Barbara... She's...” Dick shook his head. “She's so nice and smart and I like being with her, but I think we're both aware of the difference in our ages and... She's a girl. I can't be close to her without people saying she's my girlfriend, and it's not like that, but everyone thinks it is, and I think it embarrasses her. Or maybe it's just me that's embarrassed.”
Clint eyed him suspiciously. “Do you think you might like her that way?”
“Can we go back to when all girls had cooties and forget you just asked me that?”
“No.”
“I hate you,” Dick muttered, shoving him. Clint shoved him back, and then Robin's reflexes kicked in and they were both on the floor because Dick had dragged him down with him. “Ouch.”
“Your fault.”
“I know.” Dick sat up, trying to straighten out the cape. “Will you at least come with me to see the place? I've got more stuff than I could use or want, and he's rich so you know there's stuff like a pool and tennis courts and—”
“Why the hell are you sleeping over here in a condemned building when you've got all that?”
“Because you're here, and I'd rather be with you.”
Barbara should have been fine with losing Dick to his old friend. She could have been hanging out with other girls her age or trying to get a boyfriend, not worrying about Dick and hoping that he wasn't getting into trouble with the somehow resurrected and apparently criminal Clint. She shouldn't even care. Wasn't it just pity? That's what it was, wasn't it?
No, that was a lie. She liked plenty about Dick, even when he got too smug for his own good, though that had been rare enough when he was struggling with the anniversary of his parents' death. She saw that side of him rarely. Mostly she just saw someone who was lost, and for some reason, she wanted to help.
She shook her head as she pushed open the door onto the roof. She'd known Dick would be there. He was always there when he wasn't in class. Dick's friend looked up, wary, like he might have fired an arrow at her if he'd had his bow in hand.
“Babs!” Dick called, getting to his feet. “Hey, this is great. I wanted to introduce you two for a while now. Clint, this is Barbara. Barbara, this is my friend Clint.”
“You're not dead,” she said when Dick tugged her closer to him. He frowned at her. “That's good. You don't know how messed up Dick was when he thought you were.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“No. I wasn't. I didn't miss you at all,” Dick said, sticking his tongue out at his friend, who grabbed for him, and the other boy managed to catch him and give him one hell of a noogie. “Alright! Alright! I give. I missed you a lot. You know that. I told you that. I think I even cried on your floor.”
Clint let him go, and Dick rolled his eyes. The other boy just shook his head. Barbara smiled in spite of knowing that Clint was the archer her father was looking for. Those two were cute together. Stupid boys, but still cute in their way.
“Can I ask how you survived?”
“Not much to tell. I don't even know most of it. They bribed a nurse, got me declared dead, and took me halfway across the country. Told me Dick was dead, and I believed them. Then I saw a picture of him in the paper and now I'm here.”
Barbara doubted that was all of the story, just like she doubted Dick told her everything, but she smiled anyway like she accepted it.
“Help me convince Clint that this school isn't the worst hell on the planet,” Dick said, turning his attention on Barbara. “Bruce offered to let him stay with us, but Clint's being stubborn and won't accept the offer. I think he's afraid he'll get stuck at this horrible school and—”
“It's not that bad,” Barbara said with a laugh. “Sure, a few of them are jerks, but you'd have Dick, and he's almost worth putting up with this school, right?”
“Hey! I thought you were supposed to be my friend.”
She shrugged. Clint shook his head, and she didn't think that he enjoyed her sense of humor. She almost apologized for it when Dick shoved her down. She pushed at him, trying to get him off, even as something fell right in front of her face.
“What is that?”
“Some ball, I guess,” Clint said, picking it up. “Probably some of those jerks you were talking about. Must be jocks. They had good aim.”
Dick dragged himself up, swallowing like he was fighting panic. “Clint, get rid of that. It's not just a ball. It's—”
His words were drowned out in the boom, and even though Barbara was on the ground, the explosion knocked her back and made everything go dark.
“Dick?”
He heard Babs' voice first, though it was strange and weird in his ears that were still ringing, but he couldn't answer her as he fought his body to drag himself over to Clint's side. If that sonic bomb had gone off in his hand—Dick forced the thought down and refused to let it get to him. He could move, and he'd been close to it, so Clint had to be okay, too.
“Oh, look, the little runt is awake,” someone else said, and Dick was grabbed by his uniform before he could react. The thug lifted him into the air, holding him in front of his face. “Poor little rich boy. Maybe this'll teach you to ditch class and smoke on the roof, huh?”
Dick swallowed. “You... keep... holding... Gonna... puke... on... you...”
The thug dropped him, and Dick curled up on himself, his body aching and his stomach barely under control. He was going to puke anyway. He hadn't been this sick since Scarecrow got him with one of his stupid fear toxins.
Because Batman had known what the bombs were before Dick had recognized the one Clint picked up and he'd kept Dick from being hurt. Dick hadn't helped Clint, hadn't protected him. So much for Robin.
“How come this one's not in uniform?”
“Told you,” Dick's least favorite teacher said. “That's not one of our students. Let him go.”
Dick would have thanked them for trying to get Clint to help, but he knew it wouldn't help. It was the wrong thing to say. Telling them that he wasn't a student here was more of a death sentence. These guys didn't care about anything that wasn't going to get them money.
“Then he's useless to us.” The thug went over and kicked Clint in the side. Clint didn't stir, still unconscious. “Kill him. It'll teach them that we're serious.”
“No!” Barbara screamed, and Dick forced himself to sit up.
“He's not a student yet,” Dick said, not sure he was getting the words right, but going on anyway. “He hasn't enrolled, but he will. He's... He's my brother. Bruce Wayne adopted both of us.”
“Wayne, huh?” The thug grabbed him again. “Well, this little rich boy is worth more than anyone else in the room. How about that?”
Dick gagged, feeling sick again. He wished he'd been able to get all of them away from the bomb. He'd just heard something coming and knocked Barbara out of the way—and if they weren't hostages, she'd be pissed at him for that because she could take care of herself—and now they were all caught and trapped. Hostages for as long as the gang was willing to wait, but he knew this gang—Robin knew this gang. They weren't patient. If they didn't get money soon, they'd kill everyone in the school.
And laugh, like Joker might.
“You won't get away with this,” the teacher said. “Do you have any idea how many people you're going to make angry? How powerful they are?”
“How spoiled their brats are?” The thug countered, laughing. “I bet if we killed them, we'd do them all a favor.”
“No,” Dick croaked out, but the thug yanked on his shirt and he threw up this time. He hit the floor an instant later, groaning with the pain of new bruises and a still rolling stomach. He tried to think. They were in the library. If he could get to the computer—no, not him. Maybe Babs. She could do it. He couldn't. The thugs were focused on him.
“Dick?”
He reached for Barbara's hand and squeezed it, tugging her closer. She brushed back his hair, biting her lip. He tried not to let the pain show.
“You don't look good,” she said. Her eyes darted back. “I think Clint is worse, though.”
“I'm fine,” he said, and she snorted. He couldn't argue with her. “Computer.”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded, scooting back again when the thug glared in her direction. Dick closed his eyes, wondering if he would be the one that got to make the call. If he did, he could tell Batman what he needed to know. He just had to figure out the right code for it.
And stay conscious.
“My daughter's in there.”
Batman heard the words, and he would have offered some kind of support to Gordon, but he knew that if he showed himself, they'd tell him not to intervene, not to do anything, and if something went wrong, they'd blame him. They always did.
He didn't care. Not only was Barbara Gordon in there, Dick was in there. Robin was in there, and if he'd understood his protege's message, his best friend was, too. The gang had made a mistake letting the kid talk on the ransom call, but he doubted any of them was smart enough to realize how much Dick had managed to pack into what sounded like delirious ramblings.
Batman gritted his teeth. He refused to believe that they were just ramblings, though he had heard enough of Robin's voice to know the kid was hurt. He knew the way that sounded, the way Dick tried to cover up the pain and fatigue. He knew that the boy didn't think he cared, but he always knew.
“I wanna go to Sonic after this. Can I? And then I'll buy shelves and shelves of books. I think there's a hawk in here... Bruce, did I tell you he wanted a million for each of us? Well, no, I guess I'm worth six or seven...”
The phone had been taken from him then, and Bruce had excused himself to sit in his car, unable to do more as himself. Batman was the one that was needed, and Batman would get his Robin out. He had brought Dick into his home to save him, not let him be killed by a greedy gang using sonic weapons without any regard for human life.
Batman fired a grappling hook to the top of the school, dropping down onto the roof after he'd swung across. He saw a bag he recognized as Dick's and Clint's bow, both of them left behind along with the remains of one of the sonic devices the gang favored. Damn it. He knew his ward preferred being in the sky or as close to it as possible—Robin always stuck to the rooftops unless he had to get down to the alleys to fight. He was like his friend the sniper—he sought out perches.
They had been here when the attack started, not the only ones who favored rooftops. The gang did, too, and Batman had thought he'd trained Robin so that he would avoid this, but not everything could be prevented. He knew that better than anyone.
Still, seeing the red on the roof made him angry. He didn't know if the blood was Robin's or Clint's, but those thugs would regret choosing this school, going after his ward.
He knew from the blueprints that the school's library was on the floor directly below him. If Robin's information was right, he was looking at six or seven gang members, but that was only the number in the library. Others would have been securing the entrances to the building, and he had to be careful not to alert them. The gang could not be allowed to set off another sonic bomb.
He needed to be fast.
“What happened?”
Batman's growl was angry, angry enough where Barbara might have been scared of him if she was a different person in a different place. She wasn't sure she had any fear left in her, even if she should. She had seen too much today.
She lifted her head, forcing her eyes away from Dick and up to the cowl. “I think the blast deafened Clint. It... We all thought it was a ball at first when it landed on the roof, and it was in Clint's hand when it went off. Dick did try to warn us, but it was too late. It went off, and next thing I knew I was waking up down here.”
“Everyone was already in the room?”
She nodded. “They were threatening the teachers. I tried to rouse Dick and Clint, but neither of them woke. The gang was getting impatient before Dick woke up, and he tried to get to Clint, but they wouldn't let him. He kind of... baited them, and while he was distracting them, I tried to get word to my father.”
“Good.”
She shook her head. “Not really. Clint finally came around, but when he did, he just kept frowning. I don't think he could hear, and when he didn't do what they ordered him to do, they were—they'd decided they only needed one Wayne brat, and Dick tried to stop them, so the guy I think was the leader, he hit him, knocked him back, and Dick hit the table there... He hasn't moved since. That sound when his head hit—it was horrible...”
“Are you hurt?”
“Not like they are. I think Dick and Clint took the brunt of everything.”
Batman nodded. He looked back at the men on the ground, writhing in pain, and for a moment, she thought he might actually kill one of them. Then he turned and went out the window he'd come in through, and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize, kid. This wasn't your fault.”
Dick put a hand to his head, wincing. “You sound funny. I thought... Shouldn't the effects of the sonic bomb have worn off by now?”
Bruce looked at Alfred, and Dick swallowed. That was the look Bruce gave the butler when he thought Dick couldn't handle whatever he needed to say. That was the look he'd had just before Alfred told him Clint was dead and if Clint was dead—
“Calm yourself, Master Richard,” Alfred said, giving Bruce a nudge. The other man took Dick's hand, and he tried not to freak out at that because Bruce was not the kind of guy that held hands. “Your friend is alive, though I expect things will be difficult for both of you for a while.”
Dick felt sick again. “Why?”
“Clint was holding the sonic bomb when it went off. It could have done a lot more damage, but what it did do was bad enough. He's lost most of his hearing. We're not sure if it's permanent yet, but it might be. And yours might be, too.”
“What?” Dick shook his head. “I can hear you. I'm not—”
“The damage caused by the sonic bomb and the impact of you head hitting the table was pretty severe. You lost your hearing in one ear. That's why things sound strange to you right now,” Alfred explained. “I am sorry. We are looking into further treatment options for both of you.”
“In the meantime, I think you need to work on those skills we started before. Lip reading and sign language. You'll have to teach it to Clint.”
Dick nodded. He would. He'd do anything to help Clint with this. “He'll need a place to stay, one that's safe.”
“I think, Master Richard, that you will have a much harder time getting Master Bruce to allow him to leave than you would believe,” Alfred said, a bit amused.
Dick tried to smile back at him, but he couldn't quite make it. “I want to see Clint now.”
“Careful,” Bruce said. “Your balance is going to be off because of the damage to your ear. Don't rush anything.”
Dick stilled. He hadn't thought about that yet. “Does this mean no more Robin?”
Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. “You will always be Robin, Dick. Don't worry about that.”