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Bruce hated going out in public. He hated clowns. He hated loud noises and crowds of people.
He hated them, but Mayor Reál had asked him to come see the circus. She claimed that it would do people good to see some of the civic leaders doing normal things, and whether he liked it or not, he was one of those civic leaders now.
Alfred also thought it would do him good to get out of the office, have some fun for a bit, and Bruce had been trying to take his parent’s advice a little more.
Haley’s Circus was more of an old-fashioned circus that had come over from Europe a few years ago to tour through North America. They’d done well for themselves and the background check he ran on them showed a hard-working, talented group of people. There had been a few spats with locals in some of the less welcoming parts of the US, but that wasn’t too out of the ordinary.
So, he found himself sitting in a crowded tent on the outskirts of Gotham with the mayor, actually enjoying himself.
Jugglers, knife-throwing, contortionists and so many he had lost count had their acts, much to the delight of the crowd. The energy in the tent had reached higher and higher as the night wore on until, finally, the troupe’s shining jewel came out for the finale.
Bruce joined the applause as the family was introduced and they took their places on the trapeze, bowing from their high places. Each had genuine smiles on their faces and wore bright, colorful clothing and makeup, but Bruce’s attention was caught when his eyes landed on the smallest of the three.
Up, high above, the youngest of the trio, having been introduced as just fifteen years old, stood with a familiar cocky grin and a glint in his eyes visible even to the crowd below.
Bruce felt a lump catch in his throat and began scanning the rest of the tent for something, anything that seemed off, but there were so many people and so many distractions as the group performed their act.
A sudden snap and the crunch of shattering bones jerked his attention back from his search and up to the now empty air, the two adults in a pool of their own blood on the ground below.
His eyes floated up to the air where the boy sat curled in the middle of a suspended wheel, his eyes transfixed on the scene below him.
As the rest of the tent focused on the two figures in the center ring, Bruce leapt to his feet and rushed to the boy’s side.
Alfred sighed when the boy was finally situated in his room.
“He’ll be alright.”
Bruce scrubbed at his eyes as if he could scrub the layered images of the dead from his memory.
“I know.”
“He tried to sneak out again.”
Bruce continued on his way to Dick’s room.
“I’ll talk to him.”
Alfred grumbled something.
They both knew it wasn’t going to do any good, but he had to try.
“Get off me!” Dick growled, twisting his neck to bite at the Bat.
“Dick, stop, I’m trying to help you.” He tried to maneuver so Dick would bite the softest part of his gloves so he didn’t chip a tooth.
The boy twisted out of his grip, seemingly slipping right through his arms like an apparition. He stood against the opposite wall of the alley, knife brandished in one clenched fist while the other was held ready to swing.
“Who are you?” His chest rose and fell steadily, but Bruce could see a slight hitch and a slight misting in the teenager’s eyes. “Why’d you let him get away?”
Bruce held his hands up, hoping the boy realized that he meant no harm.
“I wasn’t trying to,” he soothed. “I was trying to catch him, but I couldn’t let you kill him.”
“Why not?” Dick’s teeth were clenched so hard and there was such hatred burning in those eyes.
“Because it’s not your job to pay for his mistakes. Yes, he needs to pay, but you don’t need to pay with him.” He held out a hand. “Come with me and we’ll make sure he faces his crimes together.”
The knife lowered fractionally.
“Why should I listen to you?” Dick sniffed. “Everyone always says they’ll help, that they understand and it’ll get better, but you’re all liars.”
Bruce looked around the empty alley and up at the windowless brick walls before reaching up to take off the cowl.
Dick gasped and dropped the knife.
“I’ll explain everything at home, where it’s safe,” he promised.
The boy continued to stare for a few seconds but finally nodded and started to follow him.
“Grab the knife,” he chided. “Rule #2: Never leave evidence behind.”
Dick snatched it off the ground and jogged after him.
Bruce handed the boy his motorcycle helmet and slid on, waiting for him to climb on behind him. He pulled his phone out and shot a quick text to Selina, asking her to come over as soon as she could.
“Can I talk to you for a second? In private?”
Bruce sighed and turned to Dick.
“Wait here.”
The teenager scoffed and crossed his arms but obeyed.
The Bat followed Gordon as far away as possible from the boy.
“Who is that?” Gordon barely moved his lips as he whispered.
Bruce sighed and gave in.
“You remember Nightwing?”
Gordon made a sound of uh-huh.
Bruce nodded in the boy’s direction.
“He goes by Robin right now.”
Gordon stared at Dick, hanging by his legs from a ceiling beam.
“Take a picture, old man, it’ll last longer.”
Gordon looked back at the Bat.
“Are you sure?”
Bruce nodded.
“He’s not as bad as I was at that age,” he tried to defend.
Gordon shot him a side-eye before he sighed.
“Alright, well, at least we know he gets better.”
“Do you have a minute?”
Bruce looked up from his grapple to find Dick twisting his fingers together and looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
His little Robin had gotten so big the last three years, but he still had the same nervous habits when he was worried about something.
Bruce nodded and set his project to the side, gesturing for Dick to sit across from him.
Dick took a deep breath and moved to sit down, fidgeting even more in his seat. He didn’t say anything for a long minute, but Bruce didn’t mind waiting for him to collect his words.
“Do you ever remember outgrowing something?” He finally asked the question in a rush. “Like, something important that you were given by someone else just didn’t feel right anymore.”
Bruce thought it over, nodding after a minute.
“Why do you ask, Dickie?” He hoped the childish nickname would show the boy he wasn’t going to be angry; he did have a feeling he knew what this was about afterall.
The boy tripped over his words a few times, making him growl a little before trying again.
“I don’t feel like Robin fits me anymore,” he admitted. “I know how much it meant to Dya and I know how much it means to you, but-”
He tugged at a loose string on his shirt sleeve as he trailed off.
Bruce nodded.
“Okay.”
Dick blinked owlishly.
“I wasn’t always called The Batman,” Bruce shrugged. “And you’re technically an adult now, it’s normal for you to want to try new things and explore new identities.”
Dick snorted a laugh.
“You get that from one of your parenting books?”
Bruce smirked, but didn’t answer.
“There’s something else,” Dick continued.
Bruce nodded and waited again.
“I, uh, want to start on my own.”
The older man’s breath hitched.
“I think I want to move to Bludhaven, start there.” Dick closed his eyes and waited for his parent’s response.
“Okay,” Bruce whispered. “Okay, you’re an adult and I know you’re trained well. I don’t have to like it.”
Dick’s shoulders left the vicinity of his ears.
“Okay, yeah, and I’m going to keep following the rules, I just want to try things on my own for a while.”
Bruce nodded.
“And you can always call me or Selina if you need help,” Bruce assured. “Did you have any ideas to start with?”
Dick nodded and pulled a folded piece of notebook paper out of his back pocket.
“Yeah, and a new suit.” He spread it out on the table between them. “What do you think of the codename Nightwing?”