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Bruce had watched the line snap. Watched the Flying Graysons fall. Watched their boy run towards them in tears and felt cold. Bruce had breathed in, one, two, three, and went over to gently judge the sobbing boy's shoulder.
Bruce didn't say a thing, just draped his coat around the boy's shivering frame. The police and paramedics arrived, far too late, and in the end Bruce was the one to gently coax the boy - Richard - from his parents' cooling corpses.
"You can keep the coat." Bruce had assured as Richard seemed to remember himself and shuffle back from Bruce, only to look even warier at going with the authorities.
"Go on, kiddo." Bruce tried to smile. Richard Grayson, newly-made orphan, set his face and murmured something shaped into gratitude before letting himself be led away by an officer.
Bruce had gone home, received Alfred's fussing and apologies for insisting he go to the circus for some recreation, and then spent a while wondering whether Richard would be alright in foster care. He tried not to think too hard; the boy was out of his hands.
He thought that would be the end of it, and here he was, a few months later, with a kid dressed like a traffic light following him everywhere with wide-eyed wonder.
(It was a funny comparison when Gotham started calling Robin Wonder Boy.)
Dick had insisted on his outfit in remembrance of his parents, and Bruce had folded like a piece of cardboard. Robin is meant to be the bright flag of warning. Robin will not be hurt. Dick had fought viciously back against too much armor for the opportunity to be free, so Bruce managed what he could.
Now they were out playing hero and fighting crime, a duo that would haunt the streets of Gotham when the night came alive.
"B, can we get burgers after this?" Dick pulls at his cape as they grappled up a building safely.
"Ask Agent A." Bruce grunts back, and Dick makes a face. Bruce ignores the pouting in favour of surveying the area.
"Robin. Go back early today, Agent A will have time to make some burgers if you want them so bad." Bruce decides, standing from his crouch.
"No! I can stay longer!" Dick protests, crossing his arms with a huff.
"No." Alfred told him a few weeks ago that he was being too soft on Dick for his own good, and to refuse the boy's demands once in a while. "You need to get up early tomorrow. Go. Home."
Robin wiggles angrily, scowling at Bruce. He refuses to back down and Dick deflates with a glum look on his face.
"Fine, but you had better be back quick." Dick warns, before rappelling down to where the Batmobile patiently waits for him.
(Dick had taken great glee in naming everything Batman used something bat-adjacent, starting with the cave itself.)
Batman waits until the car tears off on its long, complicated route back to the manor. Wouldn't do to have tails. Bruce strides off in the direction of the intel he had recently obtained on an up-and-coming gang's base. Better to put them down while they're still fresh.
Bruce briefly entertains the thought of becoming the backstory of some worn, grizzly man years down the line. Dick would find it hilarious, definitely. Bruce smiles to himself, intent on finishing the job quickly so he could hurry back home, take a bath, and then read Dick a story before sleep. Shouldn't be too hard.
Half an hour later, Bruce is severely regretting jinxing himself.
"We got him, boys!" The gang leader crows to the cheers of everyone else.
"No metas in Gotham City." Bruce spits out, gratified to see several men shudder even though Bruce is tied up and beaten up.
"Says who? You? Your rule's stupid, but if you're so concerned, the big guy's hired. Contract's up now." Someone sneers, and Bruce is pleased with the information. They had hired someone with abnormally great strength, someone who another meta like Superman would soon notice and take care of. Maybe he should send in a tip.
Bruce slips out the hidden Batrang in his sleeve while everyone celebrates, slicing through the rope and upon the nearest man in a flash. He's knocked out five menbefore weapons start getting drawn, and Bruce begins to fight in earnest.
Luckily, most of them are still fairly inexperienced, but Bruce still gets shot by someone in the leg twice; Bruce narrows his eyes through the pain at the skilled shooter in question, vicious satisfaction on their features. The men left standing take the opportunity to swing back even harder, and with his wounded leg Bruce buckles under a crowbar, but flips its owner onto the ground with a mighty heave.
Bruce shoulders his way through the last leg of the fight, knocking out the stupid shooter and dragging himself to the nearest rooftop as sirens begin to wail.
Bruce slumps on cool concrete, squinting at his wounded leg. It looks like both were clean shots, and both hurt in a way that makes Bruce's head swim and want to lie down forever.
He has to stop the bleeding, and Bruce moves through his sluggish brain to put pressure on his gun wounds with a choked off shout of pain. He can't pass out. He needs to contact Alfred. Someone lands on the rooftop. Bruce jerks his head around and finds Robin staring back at him, uneasiness clear in the boy’s posture.
"You- you didn't come back- Can you stand? We have to go back." Dick shakes his head and stop stuttering, putting on a determined face. Bruce smiles a little at that and stumbles shakily to his feet, Dick rushing to his side to steady him.
There's not much a kid half Bruce's size can do, but he appreciates the support as they slowly (painfully) make their way to the waiting Batmobile. Once they're safely in, autopilot comes on and Dick focuses on trying to help Bruce stem the bleeding.
"Stupid B! I could have helped you!" Dick grumbles, but his voice wavers and Bruce's heart melts.
" You- You came to get me. Thanks, chum." Bruce forces out through the haze of pain, inhaling deeply. Dick sniffles but doesn't look at him. It hits Bruce now that he doesn't just have Alfred waiting for him to come home; he has a kid now, one who looks at Bruce like he made the sky.
It's a sobering thought, really acknowledging that if he dies in the field some day, that would leave Dick alone. He can seal his will tight in order to make sure Dick doesn't leave Alfred's care, but he would still be leaving Dick, however unwilling. Just like his parents did.
Bruce grits his teeth against the pain and watches Dick put on a brave front despite himself. He can't quite smile at the moment, but Bruce holds dear the fact that he isn't so alone anymore close to him.
(They make it back and Bruce is subject to disapproving stares and firm bedrest by decree of Leslie. Bruce doesn't fight it and instead takes the time to start catching Dick up on his school curriculum.)