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It started the same every night. Flashes of an opaque sea blending with the gray smokiness of a condemned city painted a likeness of a forbidding nightmare. He rested on a lonely sailboat. Monstrous krakens shifted into beautiful sirens and skyscrapers crumbled and disintegrated only to be seen again, shining and new and hiding the shadows of the gleaming metropolis.
It never passed the same every night. Some days the seas were turbulent and on others, the waters remained calm. A beautiful woman and a poisonous grin melded together and a grotesque body split into mutilated lovers and hateful rivals and mangled family. The sailor preferred the turbulent days despite the danger for the fear of something worse during the steady waters.
It ended the same every night. His heart raced in the cold hours of daybreak and his sheets tangled around him in a sweet parody of a lover. His face felt cold and his body shivered, with wild eyes and sweat and tears constructing a perfect illustration of misery. He would leave each day and pretend nothing was wrong, only to return to his hell each evening.
。
Dick dreamed again, as he had for the past uncounted number of weeks. Catalina Tarantula and Miriam Mirage swirled into a vision of Kori with accusing eyes as the Joker laughed, explosions surrounding him. Sécurité, Sécurité, Sécurité.
Dick’s view tilted and there he was, falling from the roof of Wayne Enterprises without a rope just like his parents’ last show before falling through the street and onto a stage where Bruce stood in front of him with his family behind him as if he had to protect them- from Dick. As if he is an enemy. Pan-pan, Pan-pan, Pan-pan.
Then once again he faced Tarantula, only– she was surrounded by reporters who shouted crude questions and strangers who stared at his body first and eyes second, and his family, his family, who turned their eyes away, believing the rumors and statements and remembered none of the ways Dick would flinch and shy away from unexpected touch. Cass’s turned profile and Damien’s stone expression was so much like Bruce and Jason’s disappointment and Babs’s clear hatred. Mayday.
A transmission is thrown into the wild, screaming, Come in, come in, can anyone hear me? He’s drowning in these nightmares and Dick knows it but the apathy of a doomed sailor curbs his desperate measures.
He hears the passing calls as he walks by and doesn’t understand it, not really when people say that he looks good or stares too hard at his back, and it makes him feel uncovered in front of people who don’t know him, not really, and only find his body useful and mind unnecessary.
He wakes up, panting, then goes, gorging himself on cereal and he eats more, chewing faster than he can swallow and swallowing faster than he can bear until it comes back to him vomiting into the toilet an hour before he has to go to work. Bludhaven’s crime waits for no one, not even a brutalized soul.
。
Dick walked to his car, holding cookies. They weren’t as good as Alfred’s, but they’re excellent. He held them carefully as if they might break if he tightened his fist even just a smidgen.
Paparazzi recognized and swarmed him and Dick tried to block out the sounds, focusing on the scent of the cookies. It didn’t work and he sensed an incoming wave.
“Mr. Wayne!” His name is Grayson, too, even if he now is a Wayne. “Are you going back to Gotham? Why? A secret lover? What number is it now?” It’s always love and scandal with reporters. Dick’s head spun and he felt the blood rushing to his face as he ignored them. He is the rotting meat the gulls fight for.
The one who spoke received an elbow to the side from his colleague. “Obviously, he’s going for his family, Lawrence.” The name is hissed as if she had this conversation with her coworker many times now. Dick keeps walking.
“It’s usually romance, with Richie Wayne, Louise!” Dick had never gone to Gotham for a romance. He’s also right there. “A regular playboy, in the footsteps of his father! Bruce Wayne was the fantasy of everyone, and he’d be pictured with the plucking men and women all the time! ” A dramatic wink. Why didn’t they understand that he just didn’t find anyone? Louise sighed but hid a smile. “So, Richie, who’s the lucky girl this time?” No one, because there isn’t anyone.
“Mr. Wayne!” A reporter’s shrill screech pierced the air. “What does your family think about your latest dalliance?” Nothing. Or rather, I don’t know. There isn’t one.
The last person he loved was Kori, and then she left after Dick swam after Miriam’s Mirage’s siren song and suddenly he’s hit with her teary stare and Roy’s accusing gaze and “Dick, you slut!” in a ringing tone and how can he be a slut when he doesn't like anyone but Kori? and nothing and nothing and nothing and then suddenly he’s thinking in a dot-dot-dot-dash-dash-dash-dot-dot-dot pattern and-
Dick entered his car. His eyes were tearing but he refused to cry in front of harpies. He drove to the Manor, the crackle of a broken radio as his only companion.
。
He reached the Manor, and Alfred greeted him warmly, accepting the meager gift of cookies with appropriate pomp and circumstance, took one, and handed the rest back with an indulging smile.
Rationally, Dick knew that Alfred is the one person who would never judge him, but some nights, Dick lay awake wondering if the man ever looked at him and saw a fallen prodigy. At night, he’s seen Alfred’s disappointed face on a body of tentacles, and who knows if he’s seen the articles and opinions and comments that were made.
Dick turned into the foyer and went up the stairs, intent on finding his brothers and adoptive father. Cassandra might have been away but his brothers had probably stayed. Jason may have departed, though.
Although, Dick was wary of seeing his family after so much time away. He knew that they loved him but there was a cautious What if? lingering in his mind.
He found Bruce in his office first and quickly banished the fears in his mind. A bright smile adorned his face, and Dick lit up his eyes.
“Hey, Bruce! I’m stopping by to visit. How are you?” Inwardly, he cringed, because nothing screamed “Help me!” more than false enthusiasm.
Bruce didn’t seem to notice and seemed just as delighted to see Dick. The man placed down his newspaper and stepped around his desk to embrace his son.
“Dick, it’s been a while.” Bruce's entire demeanor is warm, like the seas before a flood, perhaps overly so. Dick pulls away, suspicious, and sees the light of something in Bruce’s eye.
“What’s wrong?” Dick was worried now, and he didn’t expect Bruce to answer. Dick searched his father’s face, finding a muscle twitch. Bruce didn’t reply. “Bruce?”
Dick moved around the room, hoping he could just find a clue as to why Bruce is off, and spotted the newspaper he was reading earlier. Wayne Family Division?!, the paper reads, and Dick bends down to read it. A small noise came from Bruce as he moved to take the paper away, but Dick held firm and batted the man away.
Richie Wayne, the paper read, has likely been disinherited from his illustrious family. He has not been spotted among the golden Waynes recently and seems to be estranged. After separating from his previous relationship, model Kori Anders, Grayson has lived in a small apartment in a neighboring town, working to make ends meet on a small salary. Our readers are worried that Gotham’s Golden Boy has turned to less renowned undertakings after falling upon difficult circumstances. This comes after his many flings and alleged cheating on Anders. The Wayne family has not responded to our requests for comments.
The article was only an opinion piece, but it had a place of honor on the front page of the paper. How many people have seen this, and thought that he was a whore? And if Bruce had read it, how long was it until he, too, believed what others did?
Dick couldn’t even look at him. He stared at the paper, and Bruce, sensing no fight, gently removed it. Bruce broke the thick silence.
“You know, they said that about me too.” He clears his throat roughly and pauses as if he’s unsure how to clear the clouds in his son’s mind. “When, after Silver-” Bruce stops. Dick vaguely remembered Silver St. Cloud, the only person Bruce ever contemplated giving up Batman for. “After Silver left, the press called us all sorts of names and believed one of us cheated when, well, the matter simply was that we were incompatible. And then later, when I was in public with a man, they said more.”
A harsh intake of breath is heard. “And it’s not the same, and I know it must be hard for you because you never liked being compared to anyone-” Dick jolted, because how did Bruce realize that? “And I'm sorry that this is happening to you. I called a lawyer before we came in.”
“I’m sorry I never stopped them and I know you’ll say that it wasn’t my fault but I shouldn’t have made our family so prominent and open to the media. I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you. I’m sorry.”
Dick laughed, in his mind. His father, apologizing? A strange thought. Dick knew that people were fickle, but he knew that Bruce was seen as perfect in the eyes of Gotham. And so long he had wished for his father’s approval, only to know that he had it all along.
“Bruce,” he started. “It’s okay, you tried and didn’t really know how to be a parent, and it’s okay you’re trying now- and it’s okay.” Dick cut himself off before he could ramble like he did when he was stressed.
Dick compelled his lips to curve upward. He pulled Bruce in for a hug, hoping the man couldn’t see the conflicting emotions distorting Dick’s face. A pity that he underestimated the world’s greatest detective.
“Dick, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me that it’s nothing.” Dick nearly burst into tears at his father’s concern. “Is it the paper? I can make them retract it.” Bruce was floundering now, not knowing what to do.
Dick gave into his urge to cry. His eyes teared and he sobbed, gasping in little breaths with his face in Bruce’s shirt. The last time it was like this… was when I became an orphan.
“No it’s just- just that they don’t know me! No one knows me and they think they do and they printed- they printed things and they think I cheated on Kori but I didn’t but I did but I thought it was her and then they think I’ve become a bad person and I was worried you don’t love me-.” Bruce flinches, but Dick can’t seem to stop his rambling.
“And when they look at me, all everyone sees is someone who just looks good and they think I sleep around when I don’t because I don’t like anyone but I do but not really and that’s just weird but I don’t get it when people make comments and I have nightmares and it’s always people thinking badly of me like you and Alfred and everyone and I don’t know what to do-” He sobs.
“Dad, I don’t know what to do.”
Dick looked up, noticing that Bruce’s eyes might have been teary. The man seems stunned because really, it’s hard to forget that Dick is an adult and not a child, and now, he needs the guidance of a parent.
“Dick, it’s okay and, ah, the thing you mentioned about not liking people but kind of liking people- it’s okay. There are other people who feel this way as well.” Bruce gives a small smile at his son.
“And I love you- no matter what. I love you and Alfred and everyone will never abandon you. Ever. I promise.”
Dick remembers this, in a sense, where a younger man comforted an even younger boy, stricken by loss, and promised it’ll just be alright. But long ago, alright seemed so far but now? Alright is surrounding him in the shape of his father’s arms.