Work Text:
act ii.
storge
part i.
His first fledgling is a creature of storm and resentment.
She arrives on the fringe of summer, and with her, brings disruptive silence to his quiet world. For the first few nights, she barely speaks, and then, one sundown now forgotten, crumples into heaving, hiccupping sobs.
For someone who was just a child himself, he had not known what to do, except offer her a shoulder to lean on. She had taken it, although quite reluctantly, and they had stayed like that, two beings on a kitchen floor, until almost early daybreak.
Perhaps it was that moment of fragility that finally broke her silence. She had explained, between ragged breaths, how her mother had only told her that she was to stay with an acquaintance until it was safe for her to return back home.
Lilian Worth had not mentioned when or how that would be, neither to her daughter, nor to the boy she left her with.
He had held her then, stiff and uncertain, for he hadn’t the faintest clue who the woman was, or who the child was, only that they had come to him for help, and that he needed to step up, somehow. When her tears had dried up, and her breaths evened out in sleep, he had carried her to the guest bedroom, then locked himself in the bathroom, and cried noiselessly.
What followed was a sleepless day off from work, as Dick tried to trace her background. It didn’t take long, unfortunately. Lilian Worth was a Brothel owner, born in Cambodia and at the time, residing in New York City. Known to have aided Deathstroke the Mercenary in the past during his time in the Asian continent, he had come to the conclusion that the girl was the merc’s daughter. Lilian had come to him as Nightwing, so it was probable that the woman had hoped his history with the merc would garner sympathy.
Despite his initial disbelief, the timeline added up, and it made sense of Lilian’s parting words to him as she had handed over a drugged up Rose to him. Your adversary is highly skilled, and has made numerous enemies through his lifetime. I fear for her safety if she continues to live with me, so I hope you can take care of my Rosie until she’s no longer a vulnerable bargaining chip , was the cryptic comment she had made.
Asking Bruce was out of the question. Along with their own volatile history, there was no guarantee that the Bat would believe Lilian’s words and take in the child. Due to his team’s mixed opinions on the matter of Slade Wilson, she wasn’t someone he could shelter at the base either.
The most logical, sensible yet callous response would be to give her up to the League for their protection.
But, how could he?
She was, after all, a child. A child who had not asked for the cruel hand which she was dealt.
And so, he made up his mind. Though it was a heavy burden to bear by his lonesome, he would try. For this child.
.
Rose runs away on the first week of spring, a week before his birthday.
He had hoped that things would be easier after her moment of vulnerability. What he didn’t account for, naively, was the distrust and unease long ingrained in a girl brought up in a brothel.
He’d thought that things were easing up, that she’d adjusted fairly well to her new normal. She had been laughing more, venturing out to the living room often, even willing to take little trips down to the grocer with him. He’d let his guard down, relaxed into a routine. Left his keys by the coffee table.
An amateur mistake.
As he swings through the city, mask in place and in civvies, Dick mentally riffles through the possibilities. The BPD was out of the question, so were the orphanages scattered around Blud. She could have made it to another brothel, in hopes that her mother's influence extended far, but the nearest one was a good three streets away. His best bet was a downtown alley, around two blocks from his apartment, where sex workers were known to reside.
Mind made up, he drops down to hunker behind a building and quickly discards both his mask and jacket, fluffing up his hair, and adopting a slouch.
Over the past two years, he’d made his name known both as Nightwing, and as Dick Grayson. Part of being Dick Grayson was volunteering at shelters, befriending street urchins and stopping by to teach them self defense on off days, offering free classes to kids who couldn’t afford his lessons, stepping in when men got brash with call girls, feeding the bodega cats and street dogs.
Wary at first due to his reputation as a billionaire’s ward, the people often turned down his initial efforts to help. But he was nothing if not persistent and consistent, and little by little, carefully wore down their walls. It took the better half of those two years, but he’d eventually succeeded in winning over the streets of Blud, both as a civilian, and as his alter ego. His civilian self was now known not as a product of Gotham’s high society, but instead as a nomadic, Roma circus boy, whose circumstances landed him in Blud.
The people trusted him, and that trust was a valuable, cherished thing.
.
Ducking into the quaint little coffee shop, he pauses briefly to scan the crowd.
There, in the corner.
Waving away inquisitive calls, he makes his way over to a booth. As he drops into the seating, cautious eyes observe him.
“Bennett,” he greets.
“Grayson,” is the monotonous reply.
Despite himself, he smiles, a quick toothy grin, as he regards the woman sitting opposite him. At the sight, Beatrice ‘Bea’ Bennett blinks, a matching smile slowly spreading across her face as she shakes her head at him.
“Don’t flash your teeth at me, pretty boy. Out with it. It must be important if you’re here at this hour.”
His grin fades as he leans forward, all humour vanishing.
“There’s a child I’m sheltering. Name’s Rose, eleven, white hair, blue eyes, pretty distinct. Her mother left her with me, father is unknown. Ran away thirty minutes ago and counting. She’s new to the area, so I need eyes on her as quickly as possible. Can you help?”
Bea considers him for a moment and then sighs.
“Only you Grayson. Due to her age, I’ll limit the number of feelers, but consider it done. Keep your phone on you.”
A heavy exhale rushes out of him as he slumps onto the table, face down. “ Thank you . I owe you one for this.”
He feels, more than sees, her nails tapping against the table. “Nah, consider this one no strings attached. ‘Sides, I owe you a lot more, y’know.”
He hums, then pushes against the seating as he stands. “Let’s agree to disagree. I’ll be out looking too. Take care will you?”
“One day you’ll see what I see. I’ll call.”
.
The call comes minutes later, as he’s talking to a bodega owner. Excusing himself, he listens to the other side, mutters his thanks and pockets his phone, waving a quick goodbye as he exits the store.
Melville Park.
Of course she’d go there. Frequented by most families in Bludhaven, it would act as a perfect crowded cover to avoid getting kidnapped, while also allowing her to camp out if needed. If she played the sympathy card, she could easily get a phone to contact her mother. She could also see him coming from a mile away, giving her the perfect opportunity to run.
Kid was smart. Still, she underestimated his connections.
It takes him a couple more minutes to hail a cab and jog to the park, during which he runs a mental checklist of reasons to convince her to come back to the apartment with him.
As he runs through his list again, he scans the park for a familiar head of white. His relief when he spots it tucked into a hat and seated on a bench, is overridden by concern when he realises there are tears running down her face. Breaking into a light jog, he makes his way over, keeping himself in her line of sight to allow her to run if she wishes.
Rose catches sight of him when he’s a few feet away, and the combination of resignation and relief that crosses her face makes him pause. Kneeling down in front of her at a respectable distance, he lets her wipe her tears before speaking.
“Are you hurt? Did anyone touch you?” Instead of comforting her however, his words have the opposite effect as fresh tears start rolling down her face.
Panicking internally, he offers her hanky, thanks Alfred , which she hastily grabs.
“No!” a sniff, “I’m,” another sniff, “I’m alright.” A longer sniff, then in a softer whisper, “I called my mom.”
He expected as much. Still-
“And?” he enquires quietly.
“She was mad,” Rose admits, voice breaking as she continues. “She told me your place was the safest I could be. And- and she told me off for calling. Said it wasn’t safe. Said my dad could find me. I didn’t even know I had a dad! She never told me! She never tells me anything ! How was I-” her voice cuts off as she dissolves into harsh sobs.
For lack of other options, the best thing he can do right now, is open his arms slightly in invitation. “Do you want a hug? You can refuse if you want.”
A pause, and then she hefts herself off the bench and stubbles into his arms, burrowing her nose into his collarbone when it’s clear that he’s not going to scold her. Dick wraps his arms around her gently, then shifts to sit down on the grass. As he rocks her in soothing motions, he chooses his words carefully.
“What did your mother tell you about your father?”
It’s quiet for a bit as she wipes her snot on his sleeve. Then, “Just that he was dangerous. And that I should call you if I ever meet him,” she whispers haltingly.
“Well, how much do you want to know?”
A pause, and then she jerks back to look him in the eyes, gauging his honesty. Dick lets his shoulders remain loose, eyes and face open to scrutiny.
“...You’re not lying? You’ll tell me what I wanna know?”
“Unless it’s not appropriate for your age? Promise.”
A scowl crosses her face, but she doesn’t argue. “Starting with his name would be nice.”
He laughs, then stands, still holding her. She’s small for her age, so it’s easy to tuck her into the crook of his neck as he turns to walk back home. She doesn’t protest the action, legs swinging as she settles in his arms.
“Well, his name is Slade Wilson, and I met him when-”
.
Things ease into a pattern in the following weeks. Dick enrols her in a nearby junior high, and his gymnastics class. Two activities that would keep her occupied, while allowing her to be under constant supervision.
In order to do so, he first faces a head-scratching hurdle; the matter of her guardianship. He’d managed to forge papers due to the necessity of it, but would rather go down the legal route to avoid issues down the lane. But therein did not lie the issue. Forget, still being in college. He’s fresh out of a public, draining breakup with Kori, a culmination of shrouded lies and miscommunication. And though the matter had been resolved, his dream of building a life and family with her was long down the drain.
And now here he was. Twenty and staring down at emergency guardianship papers that only required her mother’s sign to come into act.
He sighs into his mug of steaming hot chocolate. When and why did things get so complicated?
Rushed footfalls catch his ears, and he quickly stuffs the papers underneath the armchair he’s sitting on, and leans back just as the door is shoved open and a frenzied eleven year old comes barrelling through.
“Dick! Dick look!” she cries as she waves a flyer at his face.
He chuckles, caught off guard, and reaches to grab the paper from her. Blud’s Annual Fair! It reads in capslock. He feels his smile slip as he processes the words, and bites back his groan.
“Can we go? Oh please can we go?” Rose seems oblivious to his inner turmoil as she bounces around the kitchen, head quite visibly in the clouds.
He tries to stall. “Where did this fall from,” he jokes.
“Mrs Hemming from the floor above! She’s setting up a booth this time and wants us to drop by,” is the hasty reply.
He hums in answer, still debating. Beside him, Rose falls silent and then scurries to plop herself onto the table, clutching at his shirt while she does so.
“Is it not safe?” she asks, wide eyes and head tilted.
Well. Doesn't that make him feel awful.
Despite their rocky start, he had quickly found out that Rose was a lovable child, one that he couldn't help coo at while also wanting to give her the world. She had an open heart, a trusting one, and he planned on keeping it that way for as long as it was in his hands. It was part of the reason why she was so quick to seek out physical affection, after her initial distrust.
A distrust which was valid, to say the least. In a way, he muses, he’s glad Lilian left her with him and not someone else, because he shudders to imagine what would have happened if this gentle soul was taken under some other, ill-intentioned older adult.
“-ick. Dick . Hello , anyone there?” he’s brought out of his downward spiral of thoughts by a tap on his nose. In front of him, an impatient Rose wiggles in place.
“So? Yes or no?”
It takes a split second to make up his mind.
“Alright okay, but! Hey stop yelling, listen to me. You stay by my side, at all times. Are we clear?”
“Hell yeah! Let’s go old man!”
“Wha-? Where did you learn that language from- get back here!”