Chapter Text
Dick had never meant for things to go this far.
Literally.
He didn’t mean for things to go literally this far. He hadn’t meant to drive and not look back. It hadn’t been a conscious choice. He’d thought, “Hey, let’s hit the interstate. Maybe crash at a friend’s, or maybe just find a Burger King and nurse the wounds for a bit.”
But things had gotten carried away. He’d gotten carried away by the hypnotic feeling of the road under his wheels.
This is why he shouldn’t keep gas in his car.
He really hadn’t for awhile. Dick had forced himself to only put what he needed, day to day, or week to week, never totally filling up the tank. Maybe it was dramatic, and it was definitely impractical, but it was something tangible. Something he could put his finger on to remind himself that he couldn’t leave - not again - not when so many people depended on him. And that - that - was a nice feeling. It felt nice to be the only one who could fix things. The one who always knew what to do.
“Sure Bruce, I can take this one.”
“No Damian, that’s not how you make friends.”
“Hey Tim, have you slept?”
It felt nice to be good at that. It felt nice to make things right. Wasn’t that why they all did this to begin with? It felt like smoothing out the fissures in a world cracking at the seams. And for the rest he supposed that metaphor was all about the big picture. The city, the earth, the galaxy, if you were the big B. But Dick didn’t have much inclination to exist in a world without his family. He’d tried, for sure, but what was it all for if it wasn’t for family? And if they could save the world, great. If they could save lives, fantastic. But the heart of saving the world had to be that it was saved for families to live in it. And if a life was saved, hopefully it would be saved for some family too. It meant less loved ones grieving, less fractures to smooth over at home.
So, for the million dollar question, Dick had to ask himself why was he huddled in the corner of a mcdonalds at 3am. Not only was he in the one place in the entire world - scratch that - galaxy - that Alfred had made him promise he would never set foot in again, he was in a macdonalds located in a city pretty much as far away from Gotham as you could get. Or rather, as far as you could get with a tank of gas, three hours, and the makeshift set of skills you pick up when you spend your life and childhood learning how to disappear.
Disappearing was easy and overrated.
Disappearing was for when you needed the upper hand. Tactical, poised, and ready to strike. That’s what stealth was for and that was why Jason felt that gut-need to run and run and never stop running. Dick couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand. But that’s not what family was supposed to be. Not his, anyway. That’s not what he wanted for them, and for him, but, Jason made sense sometimes. Even a broken clock, and all that.
His fist curled around a Pepsi that was too watery because of all the melted ice and the almost embarrassing amount of time Dick had spent in this god forsaken place. It was time to find a place to crash. Thankfully, he had something like a safe house in the area. More like a favorite air BNB, but it would do. No one ever booked it anyway. He’d just… he'd just go to sleep and tomorrow he would figure something out.
Dick put the car into drive and followed the gps because he couldn’t be bothered to try to remember how to get there. He wished time would still the angry ridges he felt rippling just below the surface of his psyche. It was too much. He tried to switch his brain off. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about Bruce or work or Jason or Tim probably running headlong into situations he’d have a hard time dealing with even if he was properly rested and don’t think about Damian… don’t think about any of it. Just focus on the road and the light of the stoplights reflecting off the wet pavement and the sprinkling rain and getting to a bed before keeling over or crying or breaking things. Don’t think about it.
He made it to the house without crashing or losing his mind. It was a small house tucked into the edge of the city. Right where the suburbs and the urban met. There was plenty of space around it, and it was surrounded by trees, making a stealthy existence for 12 hours entirely achievable. Of course, Dick hadn’t had the forethought to bring his toothbrush. Or a change of clothes. So he just crawled into the bed, adding his gross outfit and his greasy face to the list of problems he’d deal with tomorrow. He managed to find some blessed corner of his mind too tired to be loud, and drifted off.
The next morning felt like a hangover without having a hangover.
“A fast food hangover,” Dick groaned, his voice scratchy and raw from dehydration. Of course, Pepsi didn’t count as water, because caffeine or sugar or something else stupid and fake sounding that Alfred had hammered into him.
He stumbled to the kitchen and found a glass. He didn’t bother with the cold filtered water from the fridge that took forever to come out. He just dunked the glass beneath the faucet and chugged the glass.
Good. Next most important thing? He needed breakfast.
Dick slid back behind the wheel and sighed, rubbing the bleariness from his eyes. He put his head down on the rubber, letting himself take a breath.
It was a mistake. The moment his eyes closed, it came rushing back. The shouting, the fight, the pushing, and the accusations. His own words coming back to do double time. They had hurt Bruce, now they were hurting him too.
“No one is making you do anything, Dick.” Bruce’s words. Of course. No one asked him to pick up Bruce’s slack.
“Didn’t ask for your help, Dick.” Jason’s words. Just as true.
“And you followed me, why?”
Oh, maybe just to make sure you didn’t get killed in your nearly hallucinogenic state, Tim?
They were right, though.
Dick pulled out, feeling the car respond to his steering. It was nice to have control of something in his life.
The gas light was on.
“Fuck.”
Dick started looking around. There had to be a gas station around here somewhere. Damn, driving in the city sucked. The traffic was close and slow and slippery. It was an adjustment after the interstate. He should be used to it after Gotham, but he still got annoyed. This would be easier on a motorcycle. Jason might be on to something there.
He was on to a lot more than Dick liked to admit.
He scraped by on fumes to the nearest gas station that google maps could find for him. He was starting to get worried that he’d run out on the way, coz there was no telling how long that light had been on. God knows he hadn’t been paying attention the night before.
The gas station was attached to a relatively non-dilapidated convenience store, so after he filled up, Dick ducked inside to procure supplies.
Fifteen minutes later, supplies procured, Gatorade opened, and on-the-go cereal consumption begun, Dick swung back out into the stream of traffic. Tim would be totally demoralized, he thought, if he was subjected to his Patented Cereal Travel Solution. Dick had been confronted with this issue long ago. As soon as he could drive, he had realized eating anything, but especially cereal, was increasingly hard. Luckily, he was Dick Grayson. One and only Original Robin. World-class acroBat, and a damn decent detective even when standing next to Tim and Bruce. The obvious solution was the Cereal Travel Solution. Or CTS for short. Dick had a small opened bottle of milk in the cup holder to his right, and a mini box of cereal in between his knees. Periodically, he’d tilt the box in his mouth, then reach over for a swig of milk to wash it down with. It was genius, and he was underappreciated.
Dick pouted as he nursed the image of his various ridiculously talented siblings making fun of his CTS. They were all a bunch of douchebags.
Ninja-assassin-genius-CEO-detective douchebags and he was so damn proud of them all it hurt, squeezing in his chest as anger and that good warm glowy ember of pride mingled. This was ridiculous. He’d run away because he was fed up with all of them. Dick huffed to himself and punched in ‘where to buy clothes near me’ into the gps as he waited in standstill traffic. He qued up the location of a few vintage stores and boutiques that were all on a shopping street not far away. Jason would either be mad or tease him for choosing a fancy, and no doubt expensive, shopping district instead of hitting up a thrift store or a mall like a normal person. And to that, Dick would say, shop fucking local, Jaybird. No small business profit from your thrift store dumpster diving. But he wasn’t here to think about Jason. He was here to not think about Jason, or B, or Tim, or any of his family. They were infuriating and repressed and he was done with it all.
He pulled into a parking garage a little more forcefully than he needed to and aggressively did not think about how he was going to need to teach Damian how to drive in a couple years and that would’ve been an awful example to set if he had been in the car. Instead, he patted his pocket to make sure his wallet was still there, pretty much the only thing he’d brought with him except his keys, and began his trek into the city.
Dick made good time. He was onto a bit of a lucky streak with the stores and had picked up at least three outfits in the first hour, but that was when his luck ended and the worst happened.
The lucky streak had left Dick rather drained of cereal and prepared for a proper meal, so he thought, what the hell, let’s grab brunch, since he was embracing the whole hipster life anyways. He spotted a place across the street with lots of plants in the windows and a nice outdoor seating area with big green striped umbrellas. They reminded Dick of the green candy canes that were always knocking around at Christmas. Gosh, green candy canes were the worst. Didn’t Bruce or Alfred or whoever was buying them know that candy canes were supposed to be exclusively red? It was the whole function of the candy cane! Dick didn’t even want to think about the atrocity that had been the multicolor-striped ones. Surely Alfred wasn’t the one haunting Christmastide with such monstrosities. But that was a conversation to have nearer Christmas. It was still only September, so no need to stress about his family yet.
The bell on the door signaled his entrance, and Dick was aware that something was wrong before it stopped its brief peal. His skin crawled and he took a breath, scanning the place as he slid his sunglasses on, rather than off. What was it? What was the matter? It looked normal, just lots of young people with sandwiches and lattes and avocado toast. Why were alarm bells blaring inside his head? His heartbeat kicked up and Dick was almost offended. He’d been living this life for over a decade, he shouldn’t be freaking out over nothing!
Then, like a camera snapping into focus, it clicked. A peal of laughter rang out, and Dick recognized it immediately.
What the hell was Stephanie doing here?! Had Bruce sent her? No way. He wouldn’t send anyone unless it was an emergency, and if he did, Stephanie would be far far down on the list of volunteers. Meddling with the batmen’s squabbles was not her thing unless Jason was involved or she was persecuting Tim.
It didn’t matter. Dick felt his heart hammering harder as he sidled towards the door.
He had his back to them as he slipped out, but their chatter didn’t fade. Who was with her? Cass? Barb? It sounded like both.
Oh god. They were on the move, in the same direction as him! What were they doing here? Dick wracked his brain, keeping his pace leasurly but quick. Finally, he smacked his forehead. Girls weekend. He’d heard something about a girls weekend earlier this week but… he had been pretty distracted with the whole argument with Bruce thing. Was it really just about Bruce though? The answer to that was no, but he couldn’t bear to alienate any of his siblings further. He couldn’t get mad at all of them at once. They had to take turns.
Dick snapped himself out of his brooding when he felt the girls gaining ground. They were pretty far behind him, and distracted amongst themselves, so he was fairly sure he hadn’t been spotted yet. It was only a matter of time before Cassie glanced up and noticed it was him, though. She could be scary like that. Actually, the main reason she hadn’t spotted him yet was probably the fact that Stephanie had made her try on her large, pink, heart shaped sunglasses. He watched the exchange via the mirrors in the corner of his sunglasses, and suppressed a laugh. She looked like a big, heart-eyed bug. The adorable little weirdo. He was still in danger, though, he could hear the click of heels behind him and wondered which of them were wearing heels. Probably Stephanie.
Panic flooded through him as he saw Cass start to take off the glasses. He’d been hoping to find an alley to turn down or that the girls would stop in a shop, but as that was looking out of the question now, he simply ducked into the next door that was propped open.
He blinked. He had been plunged immediately into a deep gloom and his eyes struggled to adjust. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath his weight, the air was dry and dusty. This was definitely not a store. No matter. He just needed to skulk in here long enough for the girls to pass, then he could make a break for his car.
“Are you here for the audition?” A perky female voice startled him and Dick almost jumped out of his skin.
“What?”
A young girl with a dark curly bob appeared to be waiting for him further through the doorway. She gestured impatiently towards a poster on the wall. “The open audition.”
“Audition?” Dick echoed hollowly, the click of heels still ringing in his ears. That had been a close one. There was still danger though. He needed to get past this kid, further into the… what- theater? Get out of eyeshot from the door. He sidled deeper into the room, but the girl crossed her arms and blocked his path, gray eyes fierce even though she stood a full head shorter than him.
“If you’re not here for the audition, you have to go,” she declared firmly, pointing to the other wall, where a No Loitering sign was posted.
Dick have an exaggerated exasperated sigh. “C’mon. Can’t I just loiter a little?”
“ No.”
“But- I’m-“
“If you want to stay, you can audition,” she returned sternly, and thrust a sheet of paper at him.
“Wha-… The hell is this?”
“It’s the audition sheet. Just read the part highlighted. Someone will read the other part.” She grabbed his elbow and started trudging him towards the faint glow of what appeared to be a stage door.
“Woah, woah, wait,” Dick said, trying, and failing, to disentangle himself from her grip politely. “I don’t want to- I mean, I was just hiding-“
“Guys! I got one!” She called, ignoring Dick entirely as she dragged him under blinding lights before what looked like a grand judge and jury of high school’s most washed up drama kids.
“A volunteer?!” A kid, around Tim’s age sat up excitedly in his chair, quickly ordering the papers in front of him.
In fact, they all seemed startled by his appearance. The room was empty of other candidates as far as he could tell, and the three kids before him looked bored to tears.
One girl with a shock of wavy dark hair and glasses actually had to remove her feet from the table in order to properly poise herself.
“Finally,” she muttered, opening up a notebook.
Dick blinked. Of course this was happening. What else should he expect? His life was just one long string of odd encounters, and why should that stop when he wasn’t in Gotham anymore? “I didn’t really mean to-“
“You can go ahead and start when you’re ready.” The girl who had hustled him in gave him an impish grin and ran off the stage.
Dick sighed and glanced from his paper to the expectant, hungry, young faces before him. Well, if it let him escape the Trinity of female terrors that were his sisters (and Barb), it’d be worth it. Besides, the poor kids looked like their audition was a bust. Maybe he could help someone else feel like they mattered, even if his own existence was depressingly void of meaning at the moment.
“Uh.” He cleared his throat. It had been awhile since he’d performed. The spotlight trained on him made his palms itch for something to grab hold of, to swing on. Did he want to swing out of the spotlight, or feel it follow him, like it used to do when he was a kid? Dick had given up trying to understand himself a long time ago. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered trying to teach emotions to Damian, when he couldn’t even make out if an oversized flashlight made him want to bolt or soar. Instead, he just started reading the monologue in his best dramatic voice, trying to make the serious actors lighten up a little. They all looked young. High school and college kids. Their faces were intense with purpose as they watched him and took notes, they looked in their element, but Dick disliked the lines he saw forming on their brows. Since when we’re kids so uptight? It was bad enough that his family was so angst-ridden. Couldn’t normal kids be… happy? Was the whole world beyond fun, now? He knew Tim couldn’t be happy because he was too hard on himself, Stephanie couldn’t be because she still counted herself an outcast, Cass and O were too focused on ignoring their trauma, Damian was a freakin’ child assassin, and Jason was freakin’ dead . Well, for a while there at least. And Bruce couldn’t be happy until Gotham and his family were both perfect, and that was never going to happen. But assassins and death and illegal transfer of CEO positions to minors were all a bit above these kid’s pay grade. And thank god for that. Someone deserved to have a bit of peace and quiet. So why, then, did they look so intense? So on edge and stressed? This shouldn’t be the way the world worked.
Not while he had a say in it.
Dick halted abruptly halfway through the monologue he had been reading on autopilot and glanced at the kids. “You wanna hear it in a British accent?”
“What?” A pale boy in a turtleneck bobbed up head up from behind his clipboard.
“Cool, I can do Czech too. Just stop me when you want me to switch.” With that, Dick started the monologue over again in the most god-awful British accent anyone had ever heard. Alfred would probably have tranquilized him on the spot, but it was worth it. He could do a good accent. If he wanted to. But this was a lot more amusing. He grinned as the the girl with the bob facepalmed from where she was standing in the back of the theatre. He switched to Czech, and the boy with the glasses and clipboard shot his brows up like he didn’t think Dick had it in him.
If he only knew.
Dick cycled through a few more terrible attempts at accents. He tried to keep it pretty even all around the globe, to make sure no one thought he was insulting a particular nation. He was equally terrible at all of them. And as he finished the monologue, ignoring the fact that the girl at the table had buried her head in her hands, as if she could spare herself, Dick paced dramatically, gesturing, and finally making a running leap off the stage, conducting a perfect somersault mid-air, and landing triumphantly on the judge’s table.
The judge’s table was not made for being jumped on, and, like the rest of the theatre, was made from old creaky boards. It promptly collapsed, depositing Dick in the rubble, face to face with two scowling theatre kids. Dick grinned apologetically and tried for some hesitant jazz hands. “Ta-da?”
The kid with glasses brushed himself down. “We’ll call you.”
Well, at least he got a bit of a laugh, right? He definitely saw the girl with the bob giggling in the back. Worth it. And worth all of the splinters he was going to have to remove from his feet. All in all, it wasn’t an awful start to his day. Sure, the girls had made it a close call, but it was Monday. Surely they would be safely headed back to Gotham today or tomorrow.
After reluctantly hitting up the mall like a normal person, Dick decided he had enough stuff to make himself comfortable for a few days and headed back to the Airbnb. Time to catch up on the sitcoms Tim wouldn’t watch with him.
His phone rang at 8am. Dick dragged his eyes open, groaning as he reached for his phone, then groaning louder as he knocked it off onto the floor. Finally, after scrabbling around, he glanced at the unfamiliar number and decided to answer it in case all hell had broken loose at home. “All hell” meaning an Arkham break, or potentially a violent disagreement between his two youngest brothers. Who knew, but his crazy family went through burner phones like Tim went through dark roast so there was no telling who was calling. He answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello.” A young woman was on the other end. “Is this Richard White?”
“Uhhh….” Dick rubbed his face, briefly sifting through a rolodex of aliases in his mind. “Yes?- I mean, yes, it is. Who is this?”
“My name is Tia. I’m calling to let you know you’ve been selected for a role in the upcoming play: Our Fair City. Meet in the same place as you auditioned at 6pm on Thursday.”
“Uh- wait- what? After I broke your table?” Dick was starting to question whether or not he was actually fully awake and sat up, rubbing his face.
“Yeah… that wasn’t the weirdest thing we’ve ever had at an audition, believe it or not.” Her voice slipped away from the formal tone she had been clipping out and Dick thought he recognized the hint of mischief there.
“Wait a minute… are you the kid who hustled me yesterday?” He demanded indignantly.
“I don’t know what you mean,” the girl replied airily. “I simply showed you where the stage was.”
“Oh yeah?” Dick had to chuckle. “Well tell your friends I’m sorry for breaking their table, but I’m only in town for a few days.”
“Then why did you audition for a play?”
“I didn’t-“
“Yes, you did,” the girl insisted calmly.
“I mean, I guess I did, but it was an accident!”
There was dead silence broadcasted over the line for a second. Then the girl, with a careful and restrained voice, said, “You’re telling me you accidentally auditioned for a play?”
“Yes,” Dick said with a satisfied exhale. Finally, she was getting it.
“I don’t believe you,” she shot back. “No one accidentally auditions for anything. I’ll see you at six.” The line went dead.
Dick swore and fell back into bed. The curtains were thin, and the room was annoyingly bright, so he decided to go the full mile and pulled his blanket back over his head. This was ridiculous and annoying. He was Dick Grayson. The original Robin! Batman’s partner in anti-crime. He was not going to be hustled by a high schooler! The little con artist knew he couldn’t do her stupid play.
He rolled over, feeling his phone get lost in the blankets but he didn’t care. It was too early for this shit. Teenagers were so damn obnoxious. Damian was going to be a nightmare. To be fair, he was a nightmare now.
Dick groaned, “Not. Thinking. About. The. Family.” And promptly went back to sleep.