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“Damian! No!”
The horned creature towering over him extends its clawed tipped hand. “Well? What’s it going to be, kid?”
Damian looks into his eyes, flickering with familiar fires and reaches out with his own hand, knowing he could never, ever regret this. Not if it would make him happy. Nothing else mattered as long as it made him happy.
He can’t be happy with Damian standing in the way.
“I will agree to the terms we have set.” Damian confirms. It takes everything in him to not look back one last time. Everything in him to make his arm reach forward and place his hand against the demon’s.
They shake. “It’s a deal.” It says.
The world falls away and everything turns to black.
“Damian!”
It’s a good deal.
Dick’s head feels heavy, his vision swims in front of him, and he loses his balance for a moment, stumbling a step to the side when the world doesn’t immediately right like it’s supposed to. A deceptively strong arm wraps around his waist, and he’s pulled against the side of the arm’s owner. Dick leans into her, letting the ground stabilise under his feet at its own pace.
She gives him a reassuring squeeze. “Is everything alright, my little robin?” She asks.
Dick looks down at her, and he still marvels at the fact he’s outgrown his mom as the years passed and he sprouted like a root, taking on a greater height than either of his parents. They aren’t sure where it came from, but they’ve worked to adjust their routines to his larger frame and taller build. They’re better than they’ve ever been with so many years as a three person acrobatic troupe under their belts.
“What could ever be wrong when I’ve got you?” He asks his mom. Mary Grayson matches his smile with her own—or maybe it’s the other way around. They have the same smile, the same kind eyes. Dick has his dad’s skin, his nose too. He’s not a perfect blend of the two of them, but the resemblance is obvious.
“Such a little charmer.” Mary scolds, teasingly. She’s seen the way young men and women flock to her son, the interest in their eyes when he practises the trade their family has perfected. It makes her a little nervous when they approach him, but Dick has something inside him that makes him so special. No one can ever be offended when he declines their offers of dates or gifts or trips, things that would sweep him off his feet if only he’d accept them.
Dick is happy where he is. Happy with them and the circus and the life he’s lived—is living.
Right? He should be. He is. He’s happy. Nothing is missing.
Dick finds his feet again and straightens, taking his weight off his mom.
“Dad?” Dick checks over his shoulder, playfully, looking around for John Grayson. “I don’t see him around.” He quirks an eyebrow at his mom. “That’s who you meant, right? I couldn’t possibly be the charmer you speak of.” Dick declares, boldly. “For starters, I’m not all that charming.”
Mary shakes her head, pushing Dick off her just as playfully. “Shoo then, you miscreant.”
Dick staggers back, holding his hands over his heart. “I’ve been wounded! By my own blood! What has the world come to?” He cries dramatically before tripping and pretending to fall backwards, only to turn that into a backwards somersault and land on his feet, bouncing like the natural born acrobat and performer he is.
Mary hides her laughter behind her fingertips as a slow clap starts off to the side, and Dick’s dad steps free of the canvas flap that will eventually become the entrance to one of the many tents that routinely went up and down as Haly’s Circus travelled city to city.
They’re in Blüdhaven, currently, coming from Jersey, and heading to their next stop in Gotham after the five days they perform here.
Something about the city was telling Dick to explore. He’d had the weirdest, strongest urge to go running on rooftops as he watched them pass by from the window of the train when they’d been pulling in this morning, but what did he need rooftops for when he had all he wanted in the ropes and rigging he was supposed to be helping his dad set up?
Dick winces.
“Figured you forgot.” His dad sighs, fondly. “Get your posterior moving, Dicky. We’ve got a lot of work to do before tomorrow’s show.”
“Sir, yessir.” Dick grins. His parents sigh again in tandem. Dick covers his grin until he’s in the tent, and laughing himself.
What could be missing from this?
The three shows in Blüdhaven go well over the next few days, and on the fifth, Haly’s begins the tried and true practice of taking everything down, packing it all away, and getting it on the train as well as themselves, to set it all up again in a new city the next day.
Working with his hands has always been easy, picking up languages even more so. While it’s certainly no hardship to help pack away or set up, Dick can’t help but love so much more the other aspects of job as a circus performer. He loves talking to people. He loves getting to know someone, even if it’s only for a few brief moments, making them smile and laugh and feel a bit lighter even under the weight of all their everyday problems.
There’s nothing more he loves, beyond all of that, then when he can speak to someone in their tongue. It’s a different kind of joy that lights up someone’s eyes when you can speak their language, and connect to them that way. A surprised delight, a sudden enthusiasm at being able to communicate in a way that is fluid and unhindered by the barrier of their tongue not being the common one.
Dick loves being able to give that to people, and it’s a skill he’s taken time to cultivate. He can speak his own tongue, Romani, as well as English, Italian, Spanish, French, Russian, some Polish and a bit of Greek. He didn’t know he could speak any Arabic or Mandarin until he’d already replied to a few families the night before.
Their surprise for once matched his own, and while he covered it up swiftly, he felt the confused stares of his parents on his back. He knows he felt them, he knows he saw them—only when he turned to talk to them about it, it was like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Of course Dick knew Arabic and Mandarin. What was another two languages to the host of others he’d already been learning, practising, and fluent in? Dick didn’t bring it up when they didn’t, but his head had been pounding since last night. The painkillers his mom offered him hadn’t put a dent in it, but the work made it easier to bear. When he wasn’t thinking, his head didn’t hurt so much. The routine helped him clear his mind, the routine helped keep the headache at bay.
A part of him wants to push harder at the niggling feeling inside of him that says something is missing, but he doesn’t.
Instead, when the work is done he settles in between his mom and his dad, and they share a meal at a communal table with all the people who have raised Dick practically from birth. There’s Haly himself, the mind reading triplets—Sally, Stella, and Silvia—Henry the strong man, Louise the Firebreather, Peter the sword swallower, his fellow acrobats of various other skill, Bruce the Batm—
A sharp pain makes Dick close his eyes and grip the table. His mom grabs onto his arm, worry lacing her features.
“Dick, sweetheart,” She says. She’s going to ask if he’s okay again, Dick nods his head before she can.
“I’m fine, mom.” He reassures her, giving her his best smile.
She doesn’t look convinced, but Dick isn’t all that convinced himself.
“It’s nothing.” He promises. Nothing at all.
What else could it be?
His parents almost make him sit out the first night in Gotham, but Dick refuses to allow himself to be benched. The Graysons aren’t a duo. His mom and dad haven’t done a performance without him in years, it wouldn’t be safe for them to do a routine without a net, just the two of them, without any practice beforehand.
Besides, he always performs flawlessly. That’s what he does best, afterall. He’s a showman born and raised.
Dick stands before a crowd the second night, his arms raised as the announcer introduces their act. “Welcome to the stage, the FLYINNNNNNG GRAAAAAYSONS!”
The roll of their name through the speakers, loud and clear over the dim of the crowd sends a thrill through him, the same as it always does. His parents stand beside him, equally proud, equally brave as they climb their ladders and ready themselves to do their specialty and perform without a net.
It’s not as scary as it seems. They do this everyday. Practice year around. They take care of their bodies. They trust each other fully, entirely, without reservations. When they fly through the air with the greatest of ease, a daring bright family on the flying trapeze, Dick never doubts that his hands will find theirs. Never even thinks for a second he’ll fall.
They always catch each other. They’re Graysons.
What else could he be?
Sweat cools on his skin and his heart starts to slow as they towel off quickly before joining the crowd outside for a meet and greet. People swarm them like always, cameras flash, laughter and the scent of fresh popped butter popcorn is carried around by the breeze. Family after family approach to tell him how amazed they were, a few couples stop by as well. Two teens on a date nervously holding hands as the blue eyed boy with camera professed how much he admired Dick ever since he saw him perform as a kid, and the blond girl in various shades of purple smiled at him fondly as she waited patiently for him to stop rambling before reminding him to ask for a picture.
Dick thought that—and the adorable embarrassed sputtering that came after it—would be the highlight of his night, but then he saw another couple in their early twenties trying to calm their crying infant. Dick didn’t know what possessed him to walk over and offer his help to Roy and Jay as they introduced themselves, or what possessed either of them to agree, but the second their child was in his arms she quieted. Dick looked down at the baby he was cradling and felt something in him call out for something—someone—that was missing.
He almost didn’t want to hand her back, but he plasters on a smile and does to the grateful young men.
Then he turns and walks away, fleeing to his family’s tent where his mom finds him a few hours later. She looks him over in concern and Dick doesn’t know how to explain it. Doesn’t know why something is suddenly, inexplicably missing from his life. Something he has no word or name for, but misses desperately.
She tucks him under her wing, like she would when he was small enough to fit comfortably. It doesn’t work quite the same, but Dick leans into her and lets her warmth soak into him.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” He confesses. She wipes away his tears, presses a kiss to his hair.
“We will figure it out, my little robin.” She promises.
Dick hopes so.
There are two more shows to go before they leave Gotham. Dick is ready to be gone. He wants to get to the next city already, the last one before they have a two week break, and then maybe Dick will be able to figure out what’s going on inside him. What mess is making his stomach ache and his head hurt and his eyes water spontaneously. What makes him avoid the meat dishes at dinner, or reply in Mandarin by mistake, or call the small stray tuxedo cat who curls up on his lap for a few minutes Alfred.
He stands in the midst of a crowd after another show and his eyes scan for his parents. Instead, they fall on a little boy. Something inside him gives a strong jolt, and he’s moving towards him without any conscious decision on his part.
“Damian!” He shouts. The little boy looks up at the cry, but his eyes stop Dick short.
They’re blue.
Are they not supposed to be blue?
“Thomas!” Comes a shout, opposite of Dick. The little boy looks toward the shout, to a large man that is clearly his father, the same blue eyes, the same skin, jaw, eyebrows room even. There’s a woman beside him who gave the kid her cheekbones, her nose.
“Dad, look! It’s the acrobat you wanted to meet!” The little kid points at Dick, and Dick plasters on his performer’s smile. His head is pounding, his vision feels blurry, everything is too bright and too loud. Dick walks towards the family, trying not to stumble on the uneven ground.
“That it is, Thomas.” The man says, picking his son up and resting him on his hip. He gives Dick a smile. “I’m Bruce, this is my wife Selina, and as you may have heard me say, this is our son Thomas. We’re very big fans.” He says. Bruce. Bruce Wayne.
“It’s nice to meet you again, Mr. Wayne.” Dick says. He has met him before, hasn’t he? When he was a child?
Bruce startles. “You can’t possibly remember that.” He says in disbelief. “You were eight!”
Dick isn’t sure he does remember that.
Wasn’t he ten? Hadn’t his parents just—
Dick beams. “I guess my memory is just that good.” He replies, lying through his teeth. The Wayne family accepts this with a fair amount of awe, and they start praising the performance put on by the Flying Graysons. Dick struggles to muster up the same amount of charm as he usually manages for interactions like these, but finally he can’t take it any longer.
“Do you have another son, Mr. Wayne?” He asks, unable to bite the question back.
Selina answers for both of them. “No, we don’t. Thomas is our one and only.” She says, with a smile.
“But…” Dick shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I must be confused. I don’t know why, I saw your son earlier and I just…” Pain, pain shoots through his skull. “I called him Damian?” He says. The pain brings with it a nausea like no other, but even through it he can see the way Selina’s cat-like nails dig into Bruce’s sleeve, and see the way Bruce gets frighteningly pale.
“Talia lost the—” Bruce murmurs. Selina covers Thomas’s ears, shaking her head at Bruce as the man stares at him like he’s seen a ghost. “How did you—”
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” Dick says, backing away, shaking like a leaf. They reach towards him, but Dick is already gone, disappearing into the crowd.
Their last night in Gotham, Dick is too sick to perform. His mom sits at his bedside, wiping away sweat as it drips from his brow. He’s soaked through two hand towels already. Haly called in a doctor a handful of minutes ago, but they’re considering taking Dick to a proper hospital, anyway.
Dick keeps shaking his head, he doesn’t need a hospital, he just needs his mom. He holds her free hand in both of his and cries freely, even if he doesn’t make a sound. She fusses over him, she asks what’s wrong, and Dick can’t answer her. Doesn’t know how to, yet.
He just presses his forehead to her arm and savours this gift. Savours it, and all the extra, stolen time he never should have had in the first place.
“I love you, mom. I love you so much. I’m so lucky that you’re my mom.” He tells her. She wipes away more sweat from his hairline, his neck. Her eyes are wet. It makes them look even more blue.
“I know, my little robin. So sweet you are, such a good son. I’m so proud of you, my love, my Dicky. I love you so much, and I am lucky to have you as my son.” She tells him.
Dick presses a kiss to the palm of her hand. She presses one to his cheek. She doesn’t wipe away his tears this time.
“What is wrong, Dicky?” She asks again.
“I’ve missed you.” He tells hers. “But you don’t need me anymore. I can’t rely on you anymore. Someone else needs me, more now. I miss him so much, and I need to be there for him.” He says. “Is that alright? Is it okay to go?” He asks.
She’s crying now, too. “Of course it is, Dicky.” She kisses him again, a longer press of her lips to his cheek. They both sob. “Take care of your little robin.” She says. “Promise me.”
Dick gives her hand one last squeeze.
“I promise.”
The world returns in full force.
Damian stands before the demon and scowls. “It didn’t work.” He says. “We made a deal, demon, so why am I still here? You promised me Richard’s happiness in exchange for my own existence, if you have lied to me,” Damian threatens. He’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
“The deal failed, because he couldn’t fulfil it.”
“Richard!” Damian gasps. “But, you were…?” He looks up at Dick with his gorgeous, bright green eyes, completely stunned. “How did you get free of the bonds it had you in?” He asks.
Dick kneels at his height, and puts both of his hands on Damian’s shoulder’s. He has no problem ignoring the demon looming over them. It can’t touch them without a deal, and it certainly can’t make one after the previous failed so severely.
“You have to have a little faith in me sometimes, Damian. They used to call me boy-hostage for a reason, y’know? I’ve been held captive enough times to know how to escape, if necessary.” He gives him a crooked grin.
“I have absolute faith in you.” Damian says, offended. It’s not a lie.
Dick’s grin falters. “Then why…why make the deal?” He asks. “Damian, you tried to sacrifice your existence for me!”
Damian is already shaking his head. “For your happiness.” He corrects, obstinately. “I know you do not need me to save you, Richard, you never have.” He looks down at his feet, avoiding Dick’s eyes. “And you do not need me in your life. I have only ever been a hindrance to you, and you deserve to be happy. If I could offer you that then why would I not?” Damian asks.
Dick shakes his head, his heart breaking in his chest. “No, Dami, no. No baby, you are not a hindrance to me, and I do need you in my life. I need you and I miss you when you’re not here. I love you so much, Damian, that’s why the deal failed. He couldn’t deliver my happiness because I wasn’t happy without you, in a world where you didn’t exist.” Dick tells him. “You were missing, Damian. The whole time, I could feel it. I could feel the parts of me that were empty without you. The parts of me that existed because of you. I love those parts, Damian, they’ve made me who I am. I can’t exist without them, and that means I can’t exist without you.” He cries, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Damian presses his hand over the tracks, trying to cover them maybe, trying to stop them possibly. Dick presses his face into Damian’s hand. “You make me happy, Damian. No more demon deals for my happiness, okay? I already have it, right here with you.”
“But—”
“No.” Dick says. “None of that. You make me so happy, baby. I don’t deserve you. My little robin, you are everything to me. You’re mine, okay? And I promised someone very dear to me to take care of my robin, so you’re going to have to let me keep my promise so that I’m not a liar, alright?”
Damian waivers for a moment, but all it takes is Dick pulling him forward for Damian to fall into his arms and allow himself to be pulled into a hug.
Tear drops fall onto Dick’s neck, soak into his shirt, and Dick just holds him through it as he cries. As they both do.
“Okay.” Damian whispers.
Dick presses a kiss to Damian’s hair and closes his eyes, tight.
I’ll always take care of my robin, like you took care of yours. He says, silently. Just like I promised. I will always try to live up to you, mom.