Work Text:
Dick was supposed to be safe.
Bruce wasn’t a fool. He never had been, despite the rumors that flew around in his early twenties. He knew the darkness that lurked in the streets of Gotham and the dangers that came with it. He’d survived them himself. He was fully aware that being a prosecutor in a city like Gotham was dangerous. Not only for himself but for his family.
So when he took in Dick, freshly orphaned from a crime ring that Bruce couldn’t put away, Bruce knew what danger he was putting the 11 year-old boy in. As a Wayne, Dick would be just as much as a target as Bruce was, if not more. His enemies would see him as bait, fresh for the taking. Taking in Dick would be selfish. He’d be endangering the kid by just giving him a home. It wasn’t worth it.
But Dick had begged him. Begged him to stay, if even for five more minutes. And Bruce’s will had crumpled like a deck of cards.
He took precautions. Sent Dick to a school with high security. Taught the kid hardcore self defense. Made sure he had a bodyguard on the kid’s trail when he was dealing with tougher cases. He did the same when Jason entered his life. And for five years, it worked. For five good years, his children had been safe.
He’d been such a fool.
Bruce looked up at his eldest, prone in his hospital bed. Dick was pale, far too pale, his arms covered with bruises. Bruce knew why. The kid had tried to been blocking blows. The doctors said he might end up needing both of his arms in a cast. And only that, if he was lucky.
Bruce reached forward, placing his hand on his son’s head. It was wrapped tight with bandages. He could still feel his son’s warm forehead through the gauze. Skull fracture, the doctors told him. Maybe brain damage. Concussion for sure. Bruce closed his eyes. In the darkness of the hospital room, he could hear Dick breath. His son hadn’t been taken from him. Not like his parents. He was alive.
No thanks to Bruce.
Bruce’s phone buzzed. He opened his eyes and reached for his phone, flipping it open.
“Bruce Wayne.”
He expected Alfred on the other end of the line. Bruce told him to call when he picked Jason up from summer camp so he could tell his youngest what had happened. Instead, another voice echoed over the line.
“Wayne. This is Gordon. We think we’ve made progress in your son’s case.”
Bruce’s grip tightened on his phone. He shot a glance at Dick, broken, battered, beaten. “Who was it? Falcone? Maroni?”
There was a long pause. It reminded Bruce of pause he’d gotten when he answered his phone two hours ago. When he’d gotten the news that Dick had been attacked. Beaten with his own baseball bat. He heard Gordon take a deep breath.
“Come on, Jim! Out with it.”
“Bruce…I’m sorry to say this but…” Another pause. “It’s Dent. Harvey Dent.”
Bruce almost dropped his phone. Harvey? His legal partner? There was no way. Harvey had attended all of his son’s birthdays. Harvey had helped him secure the paperwork for the adoptions in the first place. Hell, he’d been Harvey’s best man at his wedding.
“There’s-”
“We found him covered in blood, Bruce. He had Dick’s bat in his trunk. He’s not even bothering to deny it. Keeps ranting about justice.”
“I-“ Justice? Justice for what? Bruce hadn’t done anything to Harvey, not that he could think of. In fact, he’d been trying to help Harvey as much as possible these days, after the car accident. He’d practically supported Harvey through his wife’s funeral. Sure, he’d been unstable but there was-
“Bruce.” Gordon snapped him out of his thoughts. “We found his lucky quarter at the crime scene. Right there next to Dick’s duffle.”
For the second time that day, Bruce’s world collapsed.
***
He’d lost everything. He’d lost his wife. He’d lost his looks, marred by a terrible scar. He’d lost his world.
Bruce on the other hand, had gained. Gained like a king. He’d risen the ranks like a pro. He had a better legal record. He had two loving sons. He carried the world in his hand.
It was unfair. So unfair.
“Uncle Harvey,” Dick said, looking up at him confused. “I thought you wanted to help me on my swing.” The teen had grown so much since Bruce had adopted him. Hell, he’d even started looking like the lawyer, despite his darker skin and hair. He had the same good natured attitude, the same flare of anger that both Wayne’s kept well hidden beneath the surface. Dick would grow to be the prince to Wayne’s empire. He would gain all the spoils. Meanwhile, Harvey’s kingdom would rot under his own negligence.
It was unfair. In was unjust. The universe needed more balance.
He could provide that.
Harvey reached into his pocket pulling out his lucky silver dollar. It would show him the way. He couldn’t choose himself, he was too biased. He cared to deeply for Wayne and his family. He needed an impartial judge. Justice had to be blind.
“One second Dick,” he said, smiling down at the kid. He could feel his still healing stiches tug at his flesh with the gesture. At this point, he wasn’t sure the sensation would ever go away. “I gotta make a choice for one second. Heads or tails?”
Dick rolled his eyes. “Tails, I guess.”
Harvey nodded. Flipped the coin. It soared in the air, a small speckle of bright silver light before landing back on the ground. Harvey took in the image. So did Dick, The teen nudged the coin with his foot.
“So what’s that mean? I get to bat first?”
Harvey didn’t respond. He just tightened his grip on the baseball bat in his other hand. It was bright blue Dick’s favorite color. He’d bought the thing himself for Dick a year ago when the kid got on the team. He was almost sad to ruin it. He glanced back down at the coin.
Heads. What a shame.
Dick was still looking at the coin when he swung.
***
Bruce tried to protect his kids from a lot of things. From thugs. From gangsters. From the harsh reality that was Gotham.
Jason ran in the room, Alfred close on his heels. He was still in his summer camp t-shirt. He walked up to Dick’s bedside and took his brother’s hand. Bruce didn’t have to tell him to be gentle. Jason already knew. Which was tragic considering the kid was barely 13.
“Dick,” Jason said, gripping Dick’s hand tight. His nails would likely leave marks. “Come on big bro, wake up.”
A hand gripped Bruce’s shoulder. He glanced up to find Alfred looking up at him, a sad frown on his face. His eyes were just the slightest bit wet.
“Don’t worry Master Wayne, he’ll be alright.”
Bruce didn’t reply. Instead he stared at his two children. His two bright, brilliant children. The two boys who brought such light to his life. He thought of the other one he planned to bring into the family, a small girl named Cassandra the cops had found on the streets. Pictured bringing her into this mess. Bruce lowered his head. The weight of his selfishness would suffocate him otherwise.
Bruce could protect his kids from a lot of things. But he never thought he’d have to protect them from his friends.