Chapter Text
Dick watched as the elevator numbers steadily climbed. He wasn’t sure how it was possible that the numbers were increasing both agonizingly slow, yet far too quickly. He vaguely wondered if the way time seemed to simultaneously freeze and slow when waiting in anticipation was related to the speed force. He would have to ask Wally. That is, of course, if Wally would ever speak to him again after this was all over.
The elevator dinged and the door opened on floor 21. Dick took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator. He stood outside the elevators for a moment, looking through the glass into the office of the White Collar Crimes unit of the FBI. No one seemed to notice the 13, almost 14-year-old standing there, trying to work up the nerve to walk in. The office was bustling: agents were chatting over open files, talking on the phone, typing at their computer, and a few loitered by the coffee pot. But Dick’s eyes were drawn up the stairs, to the glass walled office of Special Agent Peter Burke. Dick’s one time handler, partner, and friend from another life. Before the Incident.
Nearly fourteen years ago (for Dick), Dick had been a criminal consultant, named (at the time) Neal Caffrey. Until a case led them to a situation that, in all honesty, they should have handed over to the Justice League. A shady organization led by an honest-to-goodness mad scientist, with the innocuous name Dr. Williams, had been stealing and selling rare gems to fund their research into the key to immortality. Not that the White Collar team had known it at the time. They just had been investigating the gem thefts. It was Neal’s bad luck to find out the reason for the theft while undercover. Which he discovered by becoming the next human experiment. Which was how he ended up as an infant, sent back in time by over 10 years. But what was Neal’s bad luck, turned out to be the best thing that could have happened.
Once he got over the agony of his body being twisted and shrunk. And the terror of being stranded helpless in an unknown forest in an unknown time. And after being found by a kind family from an internationally renowned circus. He loved his new life. He loved his new family. He loved that he was given a second chance. And now, he was probably going to lose everything. Again. Which was why he needed Peter’s help. But first, he would have to convince the agent that he was not totally nuts.
“Get traught,” Dick murmured to himself. He took another breath, straightened his shoulders, and strode into the office. He headed for the stairs, only making it about a quarter of the way across the room before he was stopped.
“Excuse me. Can I help you?” A voice to his right said. Dick looked over to see Agent Jones getting up from his desk and heading over. Apparently, this was the cue for other agents to notice his presence. The office stilled somewhat as agents glanced over towards Dick and Jones.
Batman would not approve of their situational awareness , Dick though absently. Aloud he said, “Yeah. I need to speak with Special Agent Peter Burke.”
“Agent Burke?” Jones asked, his eyes glancing up towards Burke’s office, where Peter seemed to be meeting with Diana Barrigan. Jones glanced back down at the teen. “Agent Burke is a little busy right now. Maybe there’s something that I can help you with?” Jones frowned as he stared at the kid. Suddenly his eyes widened and he took an involuntary step back. “No way,” he breathed.
Dick lifted an eyebrow. Jones couldn’t possibly recognize him, could he? No, that was impossible. Unless they knew what happened. But that was unlikely. The case had gone all kinds of sideways, and Dick was pretty sure that no one knew what happened in that lab. Maybe Jones was just reacting to the teen’s uncanny resemblance to a former CI the FBI had managed to lose two years ago. Either way, Dick would play it out. “Way,” he said. “And I really need to talk to Agent Burke. Please.”
“Yeah,” Jones breathed. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” But he didn’t move, still staring at Dick like he was a ghost. A moment passed.
“So…” Dick said, gesturing to the stairs.
“Jones?” Peter asked from the top of the stairs before Jones could make a move towards the office. Jones turned and Dick stepped out slightly from behind the agent. He stared at Peter.
“What’s…?” Peter started to ask, but then got a good look at the teen Jones had been talking to. His breath caught as he stared at the familiar, albeit younger, face. “Caffrey,” Peter said.
Dick blinked. Okay, maybe they did know something about what had happened to him. He shook off his surprise and gave a tentative smile. “Hi Peter.”
Peter stared a moment more. “How did you…? We didn’t think you survived.”
Dick grimaced. “For a while there, I didn’t think I was going to either. But, well…” Another awkward silence. “How did you know it was me? I mean, I’ve kind of… lost weight.”
Peter couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “That’s one way of putting it.” Peter came down the stairs and stood in front of the now teen. He grasped Dick’s shoulder tightly, drinking in the sight of his younger (now much younger) friend. “I really thought we had lost you that time.”
“Yeah, well,” Dick shrugged and sighed. “So, I guess you know what happened, then.”
Peter stepped back and nodded, examining Dick. “They recorded everything,” Peter said. “We had their notes, files,” he paused, a look of intense rage momentarily crossing his face, “including videos of their... experiment trials,” he spat. Peter breathed in once to try and calm himself. “I’m sorry, Neal. If we had known what they were doing, we never would have sent you in.”
“I know, Peter,” Dick said, looking up at him.
Peter sighed, and then seemed to realize their audience. “Let’s talk in my office.” He turned to the agents. “Not a word to anyone outside of this room. Got it?”
The agents nodded, looking wide eyed, and made various noises of agreement as Dick followed Peter up to his office. Once they got to the office, Dick lingered just inside the doorway, taking in the office. It had been almost 14 years since he had been here, yet nothing seemed to have changed. Of course, for everyone else, it had been far less time.
“Take a seat,” Peter said. Dick nodded and sat.
“I knew that they recorded everything,” Dick said, “I didn’t realize the files were found by the FBI. I was under the impression that they were hidden away somewhere.”
Peter closed the door to the office before taking his own chair. “They were. The FBI only had them for a short amount of time. Eventually, everything got turned over to the Justice League. But we were the ones that found them.”
Dick straightened in his chair, alarmed. “The Justice League knows?” he asked, slightly panicked. That was around two years ago now. Did Bruce know his secret? Did the entire League?
“Yes. I don’t know if they ever found the people that supplied the tech to Williams, though.”
“But did the League take down Williams?”
Peter shook his head. “No. The FBI found the lab. At the time, we didn’t know what we were getting into. All we knew was that something had gone wrong and Williams had taken you somewhere. It took us too long, but we finally were able to track you and that nut-job scientist down. We found where they had been keeping you, and the files and videos of… of what they did to you.” Peter’s hand clenched, still furious even years later, at what had been done to Neal, and 36 other victims. “We saw footage of them taking you, unconscious, to another lab. The doors were electronically locked and it took us a while to catch up. We finally made it to the lab and were about to go in when it blew. There was no way to know if anyone survived. We found a few… body parts, but the explosion had really done a number on them, DNA was useless, it was impossible to get any IDs on them. Files from a different room suggested they were playing around with alien tech that could alter time, but…” Peter sighed. “Williams was pronounced dead. The FBI handed it over to the Justice League and I was told to leave it to the professionals.”
Dick raised an eyebrow, “did you?”
Peter’s lips twitched. “As far as the FBI is concerned. But honestly, alien tech? Human experimentation? They don’t teach about that stuff at Quantico.”
“No,” Dick said wryly, “I imagine they don’t.”
“We thought you were dead,” Peter said, leaning forward, “We, Jones, Diana, and I, kept typing to find the people responsible, but we thought you were dead. We didn’t know that time travel was an option.”
Dick nodded. “It’s okay, Peter. I’m okay.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, I didn’t blow up for one.”
“Clearly.”
Dick smirked but continued, “they called me Specimen 37, like I was some sort of bug or something. They injected me with something. The pain was…” Dick shook his head. “I felt like I was simultaneously burning and freezing and melting. Like my cells were being ripped apart. It… it hurt. A lot .”
“Neal,” Peter said, his voice heavy with regret.
“It’s not your fault, Peter. I don’t blame you.” Dick met Peter’s eyes for a moment and then continued. “Anyway, after I woke up, I could barely move, I couldn’t speak, it took me a while to realize that my body had changed into an infant. It took even longer to realize that I wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. They did more experiments: blood draws, physical exams, that sort of thing. They never spoke directly to me, but from what they said to each other, they were… pleased by the results.” Dick grit his teeth together and clenched his hands on the desk, suddenly overcome by the fear, humiliation, and confusion from that time. It had been years since then, yet he remembered it like it had just happened. He was started out of his thoughts by Peter’s hand over his. He took a deep breath and continued. “Suddenly, these alarms started going off, they took me to this other lab. Said that they needed to finish the final experiment. They put me in this machine. There was a flash of light and the sound of an explosion, and suddenly I was in a forest. I couldn’t walk, I could barely move, and I was in the middle of the woods. When I heard rustling in the bushes nearby, I was sure I was about to get eaten by something. And all I could think was that, at least it will be quicker than dying from starvation or exposure. It turned out it was a young couple. They found me and took me in.” He smiled fondly and looked up at Peter. His smile turned slightly more mischievous. “You’ll like this part,” he said, “they were members of an international travelling circus.”
“Let me guess, you were a baby clown?”
Dick rolled his eyes and scoffed in a way only teenagers can pull off. “Funny. But no. My family... we were trapeze artists.” His eyes grew distanced for just a moment before he shook himself slightly and focused back on Peter. “Anyway, I got a second chance at life, Peter. And I was able to forget, for a while anyway, about criminals and mad scientists and alien technology.”
Peter sighed and sat back in his chair after Neal had finished telling his story. “Remember the good old days when criminals used carrier pigeons and not alien tech?”
Dick smirked. “There’s something to be said for good old American ingenuity.”
“So, you’ve spent the past, what, 10 or 11 years as a kid,”
“Almost 14,” Dick interrupted. He crossed his arms,slightly offended. Seriously? He knew he was short but he wasn’t that short.
Peter raised an eyebrow skeptically but didn’t argue. “Fine, you spent the past ‘almost 14’ years as a kid, forced to grow up all over again.”
Dick nodded, still a little salty at being mistaken for 10, but didn’t say anything.
“I take it you haven’t been going by Neal Caffrey,” Peter said.
“No. For one, I couldn’t exactly introduce myself when my parents found me. And for another...” Dick trailed off. He glanced away before looking Peter in the eye again. “Peter, I had to totally remake myself. I had all my memories, but the emotions and physical limitations of a kid. What they did to me, I’m not an adult in a kid's body. I’m a kid, with memories of a past life. I don’t feel like an adult anymore. The way I think and react, it’s not…” he trailed off. It was really hard to explain. “Neal Caffrey died in that lab that day,” He said softly. “At least, I thought he did.”
“So who are you now?”
“Richard Grayson.”
Peter frowned slightly. “That name sounds familiar.”
“It should. I’m kind of famous.”
“Famous how?”
“I’m the ward of Bruce Wayne.”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Bruce Wayne? The billionaire?”
“Yeah. My parents… we were doing a show in Gotham.” He swallowed. “They were murdered. And then, suddenly, I was living in a giant mansion full of art and money. I had everything Neal Caffrey ever thought he wanted. And all I wanted was to go back to that tiny trailer with thrift shop clothes, handmade toys, and my parents. I guess it's true what they say, be careful what you wish for. The days after everything, I thought maybe it was karma or something. Like it was my fault for all the stunts I pulled as Caffrey.”
Peter leaned in. “What happened to your parents was not your fault.”
“I know. I do.” He forcefully pushed all the past memories away. He didn’t have time for them right now. He had a job to do. “But, anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Okay,” Peter said, willing to let the change of subject go. “Why are you here? Nobody would have expected Neal Caffrey to pop up as Richard Grayson. You could have lived the rest of your life without anyone being the wiser.”
“Well, the past has a funny way of catching up with you.” Dick paused, thinking through his next words. “I’m sure you’re aware that Keller escaped prison. Again.” Seriously, you’d think Keller was in Arkham the way he constantly got out all the time.
Peter straightened. He did not like where this was going. “Yes. About 5 months ago. He’s been in the wind. We haven’t heard from him. Why?”
“Because, apparently, he figured out who I was. He contacted me on the way to school this morning. Said that if he couldn’t live a life of luxury neither could I. He gave me 6 hours to turn myself in to the FBI, you specifically.”
“Or what?”
Dick took his phone from his pocket, unlocked the screen and turned it so Peter could see. The photograph on the phone showed two men, one recognizable as Bruce Wayne, the other an older gentleman. They were both tied up and unconscious on the floor of a generic, windowless room. “Or he’s going to kill Bruce and Alfred, then make public those experiment videos you were talking about and frame me so the world thinks that I’m the one who killed Bruce for his money.” Dick turned the phone off and set it on the desk. “I don’t care about me, but we have to save them,” he ended with a plea.
“We will,” Peter said.
“I would have tried to save them myself, but it’s a four-hour drive from Gotham in good traffic. And I had no leads on where to even start. I couldn’t risk-“
“Neal,” Peter interrupted. He came abound to the front of the desk and put his hand on the teen’s shoulder. “We’ll find them.”
Dick closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Thank you.” He didn’t bother to correct Peter on his name. After all, he wasn’t sure Dick Grayson was going to exist anymore after this mess was over.
“How will Keller know when you made it here? What does he want to happen after you turn yourself in?” Peter asked.
Dick pushed the phone towards Peter. “He gave me that phone and took mine. There is only one number in the contacts list. He wants you to call it.”
Dick clenched his fists in his lap, feeling helpless. He knew the phone was bugged and being tracked via the GPS chip, meaning he couldn’t take advantage of the Zeta Tubes and definitely didn’t want to lead Keller straight to the batcave. Which meant he needed to get to New York the old-fashioned way. And 6 hours was simply not enough time to both get to New York to appease Keller and do his own investigation as Robin. Similarly, any outside contacts he would make, say to the Team or the League, would be monitored if he couldn’t get to the cave. He couldn’t put everyone at risk like that. Which meant that his wings were officially clipped. He was, for the moment, forced to play by Keller’s rules.
“How much time do we have before I need to call?”
Dick checked his watch, though he didn't need to; he was hyper aware of the time. “45 minutes.”
Peter nodded, thinking. “Are you okay bringing Jones and Diana into this?”
Dick shrugged, “the more the merrier. Keller just said I had to get to you. He didn’t say I had to leave anyone out. And he’s not exactly shy about getting on the FBI’s bad side.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. “No, he’s not. Head to the conference room I’ll get Jones and Diana and we’ll loop them in.”
Dick nodded and headed in that direction. He kept his head down, trying very hard not to look at any of the agents.
Peter stopped at the balcony, he met the eyes of agents Jones and Barrigan and gestured to the conference room. A moment later they were settled in the chairs.
“It’s good to see you again, Caffrey,” Diana said with a smile.
“Yeah, it really hasn’t been the same without you,” Jones added.
Dick gave them a genuine smile. “Thanks. I missed you guys, too.”
“I’m sure you have questions for Neal, but they will have to wait. The short of it is he was sent back in time, was adopted and lived a normal life.”
Dick couldn’t stop the snort of amusement. The three agents looked at him, eyebrows raised in question. “Because life as a circus brat is sooo normal.”
“Circus brat?” Jones asked.
“You’re Dick Grayson,” Diana said, in sudden realization. “I can’t believe I never put it together before.”
“To be fair, Dick Grayson was taken in by Bruce Wayne a couple years before Neal Caffrey disappeared. So being two places at once is a pretty good alibi,” Dick said.
“That’s why he’s here,” Peter interjected. “Keller found out who he was and kidnapped Bruce Wayne and another person.”
“Alfred Pennyworth,” Dick supplied.
“Keller kidnapped Bruce Wayne?” Clint asked.
“That’s bold,” Diana said.
“Is there a ransom demand?” Clint said.
Dick pulled a face. “In a manner of speaking. He wanted me to turn myself in to Peter and then have Peter call him.” Dick gestured to the phone.
“We have just over 30 minutes before Keller’s time limit is up. I want this call traced and recorded.”
The agents rushed to get the equipment needed. While got it set up in record time, Dick couldn’t help but be aware of each minute that passed. He paced; his anxiety unable to allow him to sit still. Finally, the agents had everything set up. Peter nodded at Dick and then pressed the call button.