Chapter Text
“You can’t just adopt a kid off the street,” Nightwing said exasperatedly.
Batman gave him a look, but it was hard to pinpoint what it was. A little bit of disappointment mixed with something Nightwing couldn’t put his finger-stripes on.
“I’m not against you taking in another kid,” he reassured him. It wasn’t like Bruce hadn’t fostered other kids after taking him in. And, after getting to know them, it wasn’t like Dick hadn’t grown fond of them. But the longer they stayed, the harder it became to hide the fact that they were Batman and Robin--now Batman and Nightwing. It was something that weighed heavily on him, Bruce, and Alfred. It’s why any kids Bruce took in was only a temporary arrangement. In his free time, Bruce would research prospective adoptive families, matching up each kid with what he felt would be their perfect match and forever home. It was always sad when their new family came to pick them up, but Bruce alleviated some of the sadness by reassuring them that they could come back to visit Wayne Manor whenever they wanted (and if they had any adoptive siblings or pets, they were welcome, too).
So Dick wasn’t against the idea per se, but he had issues with how B was going about it in this instance. “I’m against you impulsively taking a kid off the street without looking into his background or official paperwork. Just grabbing him off the street without telling anybody is kidnapping!” It’s what bad guys, aka the guys they fight, did.
Batman’s expression didn’t change.
Nightwing just stood there next to the passenger side of the Batmobile, looking dumbfounded at his mentor standing on the other side near the side-view mirror. B couldn’t possibly be serious.
“Look,” he said, tired of arguing about this with him at 3 AM in Crime Alley. On the anniversary of his parents’ deaths no less. “I’m not proposing we leave the kid here. The building’s condemned and looks like it’ll collapse at any moment.” And there’s no way he’d survive that Dick’s brain unhelpfully thought. Not with how skinny and malnourished he appeared to be. “But you’re not taking him in, not tonight, not like this. Acting shady like this is exactly the reason why there are rumors that you’re a pedophile floating about.”
That got a reaction out of him, much to Dick’s chagrin.
“What do you propose we do with him then?” came Batman’s annoyed growl.
“Take him to Leslie or to an orphanage for the night. Then first thing tomorrow morning you can inquire about him as Brucie Wayne, Beloved Billionaire Philanthropist. If he’s eligible for fostering, you can take him in. Nothing will appear suspicious and nobody will ask questions.”
“If . . .” Batman started.
“Oh for crying out loud, enough with the ifs for tonight! I’m tired and hungry and I think the kid is, too.” He’d have to be after hauling those two big tires up four stories. Across the creakiest, most unstable floor ever, Dick thought. “It would surprise me if he’s still where we left him. He’s probably run off by now, either to find food or just to get away from us.”
B’s face finally softened, knowing Nightwing, his new partner, was right. All this arguing was getting them nowhere and right now they had to think about the kid first. His needs were paramount. And he was not in the mood to track the kid down again.
So they made their way back to the condemned apartment building and, carefully, up the fire escape to the fourth floor. They squeezed their way in through the same boarded up window that they did earlier and headed down the hall to the crummy apartment where the small child apparently lived on his own. When they entered with their trademark silence, to Nightwing’s surprise, the kid was still there, leaning against the wall with a thin blanket wrapped around him, sleeping. He was sitting on the same mattress he was on when they first tracked him down. With him not constantly moving, they could make out bags under his eyes. It was a disturbing contrast to his young, otherwise unblemished face. It hurt the new Dynamic Duo to see, but it hurt them even more to wake him up.
But Nightwing was not going to let Batman talk him into getting this child into the Batmobile without waking him up. It would just make him even more suspicious of them than he already was.
It took a few seconds after B gently shook one of his shoulders with his right hand for the kid to open his eyes, but once he did, he immediately jumped to his feet and got into an aggressive fighting stance with his fists in front of him, ready to defend himself. “What’re ya still doin’ here?” he demanded. “I already gave ya back ya stinkin’ tires. Thought ya be long gone by now. Whaddya want?”
“What we want, Jason,” Batman said calmly, recalling from their conversation earlier that the child had said his name was Jason, “is for you to come with us. Please, gather your things.”
It took a second before it dawned on the child what he said. And, as Nightwing mentally predicted, he didn’t take it well. “WHAT?! Ya never said I had to do anythin’ but give ya back the tires!”
Batman, afraid he would run, reached out and grabbed the wrist nearest him. Firmly, but gently.
Jason shrieked in response and immediately began trying to pull away. “Lemme go, lemme go!” he kept repeating, getting more desperate by the second.
Nightwing sighed. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but he’s pretty sure grabbing the kid just made things worse. He stepped forward and Jason’s head snapped in his direction. Surprisingly, the kid stopped struggling and looked at Nightwing with huge blue eyes. “Okay,” he said, sounding completely defeated. “You win, just . . .”—those eyes started to water—“be gentle or make it painless, please.”
Both Batman and Nightwing’s faces became horrified and the latter tried not to think about what the child was implying. “No, we just want to take you somewhere safe for the night,” N calmly, gently stated. “Now that we know you’re here, we can’t let you stay. It’s too dangerous.”
Jason straightened up and asked, in a tone that was both tough and disbelieving, “Where’re ya gonna take me?” Dick feared the kid was getting his courage back and may have a second wind in him. He really didn’t like the idea of restraining the child (it would only continue to make things worse), but if he did decide to start fighting again, he wouldn’t have any choice. It was best if they could convince the kid to come with them on his own.
“We haven’t decided on an exact place,” Batman piped up, voice also gentle, “but there are lots of good orphanages and foster homes to pick from. You can help us choose.” Taking a leap of faith, he let go of Jason’s wrist and crouched down to his level, looking him straight in those watery blue eyes, though Jason just saw blank white lenses. “So, whaddya say, Jason? Wanna help us look for a home for you?”
Inwardly Nightwing was breathing a sigh of relief. Bruce seemed to realize his previous approach wasn’t helping and changed it.
There were a few seconds of silence before Jason responded. “Sure. Whatever. But . . . can I bring a picture with me?” The tears that had been building up finally spilled over his cheeks and he sniffled.
Nightwing’s white lenses fell on the only possible picture he could be talking about: a small framed photo of young woman with straight brown hair in a chin-length bob cut, resting on a small shelf against the wall Nightwing was facing. It was a few feet from the mattress, which Dick guessed was where Jason slept. The small apartment was mostly unfurnished, the only pieces of furniture being an armchair, a nightstand next to it, and two low shelves, one of which the aforementioned picture was on.
Batman was looking at the picture, too. His expression and voice softened. “Of course you can, Jason. You can take all your things. You just need to leave this building behind. We can help you pack, if you like.”
Jason brought the ratty sleeve of his thin shirt up and wiped his eyes and nose. “No, I can do it by myself,” he said as he moved to do just that. He turned and walked over to the mattress and grabbed the thin blanket that was pooled on top. He fashioned it into a bag by tying the ends together. He went over to the closet at the opposite end of the apartment, opened it, and started stuffing his clothes into the makeshift bag.
From Batman and Nightwing’s viewpoint, the few clothes he had didn’t appear to actually be worth taking along. They all appeared to be just as thin, worn, and faded (not to mention dirty) as what he was wearing, but, not wanting to say anything that would upset him, both kept their mouths shut.
He came back over, plopped the bag onto the mattress, reached up, and took down the Black Sabbath poster that was above it on the wall behind it. He rolled it up and stuffed it into the bag. He did the same thing with the Avenged Sevenfold poster that was on the wall above the shelves. Next he went to said shelves to gather a small stack of CDs and deposit them into the bag. This was followed by an old-looking portable CD player and thin, small headphones.
When he tried to put a stack of books in the bag, some of which looked too big and heavy for the thin material to hold even without other stuff already in it, Nightwing stepped forward and offered to carry them back to the Batmobile, as politely and helpfully as he could.
Jason scrunched up his nose and twisted his mouth like he was offended by (or at least disliked) the offer, but seemed to see the logic in it nonetheless for he handed the books to him. “Be careful with them,” Jason told him, clearly concerned about them.
Nightwing smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I will,” he reassured him in the softest voice he had used that night.
Jason quickly ran over to the used armchair, pulled something out from behind it, quickly ran back, and shoved whatever it was into the bag. Neither Batman nor Nightwing could see what it was and that appeared to be by design; Jason clearly didn’t want them to see what it was for whatever reason.
Not that that would stop Batman from going through the kid’s bag later to find out what it was Nightwing silently mused to himself. While it was just another manifestation of Bruce’s paranoia and control freak tendencies (which Dick had discovered irritated him more the older he got), in this case there was actually a reason for it. To make sure whatever it was wasn’t dangerous and didn’t end up wherever Jason did and could potentially hurt the people living with him.
The last item to be put into the bag was clearly Jason’s most precious: the picture. He hadn’t told either Batman or Nightwing who it was a picture of, but both of them easily came to the conclusion that it was his mother nonetheless. When they first confronted him over their stolen tires and demanded to know where his parents were, he stated that his mother had fallen ill and died. He never glanced at the picture as he told them this, but their masked eyes had found it anyway and it wasn’t too hard to figure out who the woman was, especially considering the kid’s “living space” only seemed to have what the kid deemed important.
Jason tried not to gaze at it too long before putting it into the bag, hoping the two vigilantes in the room with him wouldn’t notice (but they did). He gingerly placed it on top, picked up the bag—holding it with his arms underneath it, turned to Batman and Nightwing, and said, “Okay. Let’s go.”
“I’ll lead the way,” Batman said in a soft but leaderly voice. “Nightwing will bring up the rear to make sure you don’t fall through the floor.”
“The books, too,” Jason added as he glanced at the stack in Nightwing’s arms.
Nightwing nodded. “Yes, the books, too,” he reassured him.
Batman turned and led the way out of the dilapidated building. Jason followed slowly, weighed down by the bag, the creaky floor, and his continued mistrust of the new Dynamic Duo.
The journey to the Batmobile was uneventful, to both Batman and Nightwing’s relief. Jason followed B without a problem. Even when they had to bust out the boarded up window to get Jason’s things through, he didn’t jump at the opportunity to run away from them. He seems to have reluctantly accepted their help. Probably because it’s the quickest way to get rid of us Nightwing thought.
When they reached the sleek, black car, Batman opened up the passenger’s side door before walking around to the other side and getting in the driver’s seat. Jason, however, just stood there on the grimy sidewalk with his bag in his arms, staring into the intimidating vehicle’s interior.
This went on for several seconds before B said, softly and encouragingly, “It’s okay. You can hop in.”
Nightwing stepped around and in front of Jason. “I think we can fit your books in the floorboard area,” he said as he bent into the car’s interior and set the stack on the passenger’s side floorboard against the center console to optimize leg room. “And I think your bag will fit in between the seats.” Nightwing turned around and gently took the bag from Jason (who let him), turned back around and balanced it on the console so it wouldn’t fall and spill its contents all over the Batmobile’s interior.
Batman tried not to make a face that showed how glad he was that the Batmobile wasn’t a stick shift.
Without thinking, Nightwing got into the passenger’s seat, momentarily forgetting about the third wheel accompanying them. When he remembered, he looked back at the kid and was about to say something, but Jason was already stepping towards him, apparently having a plan in mind.
Dick wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that plan was though when Jason climbed into his lap and closed the door. The interior of the Batmobile fell into an awkward, heavy silence. At least, it was awkward for Batman and Nightwing. Neither of them dared to breathe, much less speak. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Jason, on the other hand, acted like nothing had changed and just sat in Nightwing’s lap looking forward out the car’s tinted windshield, leaning slightly forward with his hands in his lap while his legs dangled against Nightwing’s.
Dick tried to not let his internal freak out show externally. It’s okay he reassured himself mentally. The kid’s, what . . . nine? If not younger. There’s a perfectly reasonable, innocent explanation for a kid sitting in a teenager’s lap, no different from a kid sitting in a trusted adult’s lap. It probably happens all the time with teens with younger siblings (not that him or anyone on the Team would know anything about having younger siblings). Growing up and especially spending time around Wally just made his mind automatically jump to dirty conclusions when there was a perfectly reasonable clean alternative.
Still, Dick’s body was frozen stiff, afraid to move. He couldn’t put his finger-stripes on it, but something about the situation just felt wrong. He couldn’t remember the last time a strange kid sat in his lap when he was in his vigilante identity. He remembered holding and hugging frightened kids plenty of times, but they were all younger than this kid, no more than six or seven. The older kids typically shied away from physical contact (unless B and him were specifically there to rescue them; then again even adults ran to them in those situations), wanting to show how grown up they were and thus impressing Gotham’s beloved Dynamic Duo. Teenagers were another thing entirely, usually just being stubborn and doing the opposite of what they wanted.
Then there was the issue that, prior to this, the kid clearly wanted nothing to do with him and Batman and he especially didn’t want physical contact of any kind. The kid tolerated the two of them around him when they stayed at least two to three feet away from him. Even more was better. But the kid freaked out when B simply held his wrist; Dick couldn’t imagine how he would’ve reacted if they initiated more physical contact than that. So why was the kid suddenly okay with . . . crawling into his lap? Dick hoped it was just because the kid took the practical route of sharing a seat with one of them (he had already observed earlier the limited space in the Batmobile). But that still didn’t explain why he didn’t just ask Nightwing to scooch over so they could share the seat that way. That would’ve made more sense given the kid’s clear aversion to physical touch. The kid’s pleas to them back in his apartment suddenly intruded into Dick’s thoughts and he squashed them back down with all of his might. He didn’t want to think about it then and he definitely doesn’t want to think about it now.
Batman was in the driver’s seat silently observing what was going on in the passenger’s seat. It was obvious Dick was deep in mental turmoil while Jason just sat on his lap, oblivious to the discomfort he was causing. The longer Dick was absorbed in his thoughts, the more confused Jason became, not knowing why they hadn’t taken off already. Batman had to intervene or this would go on for who knows how long. He cleared his throat which immediately got the child’s attention.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he whispered apologetically, eyes not meeting the Dark Knight’s lenses. “I didn’t know—“ he started as he moved from Nightwing’s lap and began crawling carefully over his bag, presumably to then sit in Batman’s lap. The removal of the weight from his lap jolted Nightwing out of his thoughts.
“No—“ Batman sternly, abruptly, but also gently started.
“Oh, then I’ll just . . .” Jason backtracked until he was back on the seat with Nightwing, then turned sideways and started to go backwards onto the floorboard that wasn’t already occupied by his books.
Nightwing stared dumbfounded down at him while Batman looked on, concerned, with a frown on his face. What’s up with this kid? Nightwing thought but before he could dwell on it for long, his mouth blurted out “Kid, why don’t you just sit next to me?” He scooted over to the kid’s bag so there would be room for him between him and the door.
“O-okay,” the kid said quietly as he crawled back up onto the seat, turned around, and sat as close to the door as he could, thereby maximizing the space between him and Nightwing.
“Buckle up,” Batman said abruptly and harshly.
Nightwing quickly grabbed the passenger’s seatbelt, pulled it over Jason and himself and clicked it into the holder on the other side of him.
“Hang on.” That was the only warning they got from Batman before the Batmobile roared to life and took off as fast as it could.
The awkwardness of the past few minutes and the desperation to get away from it meant that Batman ended up going straight to the Batcave. Nobody said anything during the ride; the only sound was that of the Batmobile’s engine racing over the grimy Gotham streets and beyond.
After he pulled into the Cave and stopped the Batmobile, Batman wasted no time in getting out, walking around to the passenger’s side, opening the door, and calmly, gently instructing Jason to remove his things from the car and make himself at home while he and Nightwing convened elsewhere.
Jason did as he was told, first grabbing the books off the floorboard, exiting the Batmobile, walking several feet away, setting them down on the cold cave floor, and heading back for his bag. Nightwing was already holding it, standing just outside the vehicle, and when Jason got close enough, he handed it to him with a quick but polite “Here.” Jason returned to where the books were, gently placed the bag next to them, and turned around, only to find that both vigilantes had silently disappeared to places unknown.