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The news had come, through of all things, a youtube video.
Dick hadn't even meant to watch the video. He had been avoiding all news of Gotham and its Dark Knight like the plague. He also fully planned to continue pretending that the city didn't exist until Bruce either finally grew the balls to contact him, or the apocalypse descended. Because, after eight fucking months, Bruce somehow still hadn’t even messaged him.
No, that didn't make Dick twist his mouth in disappointment. No, he didn't regret how things had ended up. No, he didn't lay awake some nights, desperately wishing he wasn't so set on waiting for Bruce to make the first step despite his eternal emotional constipation that probably guaranteed he never would.
Damnit, Dick had one rule and that was it! He refused to reach out before Bruce. If Bruce actually gave a damn about him, after raising him for eight years, he would make that move. Dick would not do it first. He wouldn't.
He honestly didn’t mean to watch the video. Dick had actually been watching a video essay on the history of ancient Rome to help fill the quiet silence of the tower. But alas, youtube's algorithm was still apparently stuck on his old habit of watching the rare bits of footage of his nights out as Robin, and autoplay was a bitch.
The video had started before Dick even realized what was happening. And then it was too late. He never would have been able to tear his eyes away from the video; it was in his blood. The title proclaimed, in all caps, EPIC TAKEDOWN OF SCARECROW BY THE BAT - NOT CLICKBAIT!!
Video footage played on Dick's computer. It was fuzzy, blurry, and almost impossible to make out. That was probably the reason for the multiple annoyed comments he could see underneath the video.
But Dick knew the streets of Gotham like the back of his hand. He had grown up running around them, memorizing the way they felt as he soared through the air. Gotham's dark corners and shadowed alleys had been etched into his soul since he was 12 years old. For him, watching a blurry and shaky video captured by a terrified civilian was basically the same as watching a movie in theaters.
The footage opened with an elevated and half cut-off view of a dark street, clearly shot from around the corner of a window. At least whatever civilian had filmed the video had enough sense to hide from the fight. Dick had encountered far too many civilians that didn't care enough about the danger they were in.
On the street below, some sort of fight was clearly taking place between two figures. With the lack of working streetlights, pretty typical for Gotham, the majority of the fight wasn't very visible. The figures down below looked more like blobs that were a slightly different shade of darkness than the night around them, but Dick had the advantage of knowing exactly what he was looking for.
Jonathan Crane had to be the slightly shorter and lankier figure that was clearly on the defensive and rapidly losing ground. The other shape, far larger and better at throwing punches, could only belong to Batman himself.
As Dick continued to watch, unable to tear his eyes away, Batman steadily gained on Scarecrow. Every punch that he threw connected with the villain’s body, and every step he took was filled with purposeful intent.
The video was only 43 seconds long. Batman defeating Scarecrow only took 26 of those seconds, with the rest of the time showing Batman kneeling down to slip a pair of handcuffs over Crane's wrists and ankles. In the last few seconds, Batman pushed himself to his feet and raised his head as if he were looking at something out of frame. The screen faded to black just as Batman began to shift his weight to move, displaying the poster's channel information.
Dick stared at his reflection on the black screen. He narrowed his eyes. Something felt off about this video, something that he couldn't quite place his finger on.
He restarted the video and watched it again. Then again. And again. The scene of Batman, Bruce, fighting the scarecrow filled his mind.
It was on the fifth rewatch that Dick finally saw it.
7 seconds into the video, in the middle of Batman's fight against Scarecrow, there was a flash of movement on the upper edge of the screen. A goon, presumably one of Scarecrow's, slammed into the pavement on his back. A few seconds later, another goon tripped over the fallen one's unconscious body and fell down.
Dick pressed his lips into a thin line.
At 19 seconds, Dick saw the final piece of information he needed to confirm the hunch that had sent his stomach roiling. It only lasted for a frame, but the irrevocable proof was there. A brief flash of a golden cape swished into the video, disappearing almost instantly. The tip of a green boot that Dick would recognize in his sleep appeared a couple of frames later.
He slammed the laptop closed.
Dick tried. He really did.
He tried to avoid the channel 73 Gotham news reports. He tried to tear his eyes away from the newspapers and videos on the latest glimpses of the urban legend that was Batman. He tried to ignore the whispered words that sometimes reached his ears when the team went out, murmurs of how Robin had abandoned the Teen Titans to return to Gotham. He tried to pretend as if Gotham didn't exist. He tried to shove down the boiling fury that churned in his gut.
He failed.
Dick's internet search history was filled with discussion forums describing people's latest experiences with the bat, conspiracy threads centered around the fact that Robin had suddenly shrunk, and news articles on the mysterious captures of Gotham's rogues.
His search history was also filled with gossip magazine articles on billionaire Bruce Wayne's newest charity case: Jason Todd. They claimed everything, from Jason secretly being Bruce's biological son, to him purposefully causing the breakup of Bruce and his latest fling, and even rumors of Jason taking the place of Bruce's estranged eldest, Dick Grayson, who hadn't been seen in Gotham for almost a year.
The magazines said a lot of stuff. Dick knew better than to trust the magazines after years of living in their spotlight. They rarely said anything with even a grain of truth in it. Although, the last statement sure sounded right. Dick purposefully closed out of that article.
Instead of reading more two bit magazines whose only purpose was to cause drama, he hacked into the CPS database and pulled up their files on the new younger brother that he apparently had.
Yes, Dick was very pissed that no one told him he was no longer an only child.
Jason Todd was 12 years old and a former street rat that grew up in Crime Alley. His father, Willis Todd, was a two bit thug who had run with multiple rogue's gangs. He had bounced in and out of Blackgate Penitentiary for most of his adult life, never lasting longer than a year before returning to its cells. Willis had eventually died behind those iron bars. Jason's mother, Catherine Todd, was a drug addict who died of an overdose not long after. Jason had vanished before social services arrived at his house. The police assumed he was dead, which Dick had to admit wasn't exactly an unfair assumption with how many street kids got wrapped up in trouble they couldn't survive.
Jason had lived like that, in the shadows of Gotham's alleys, until he somehow stumbled into the path of billionaire Bruce Wayne. The CPS reports weren't very forthcoming on that part, so it probably had something to do with Batman.
Dick frowned and leaned back in his chair. The dim light from his desk lamp cast most of his room in shadows, and the moonlight streamed through his open curtains. The rest of the Titans were asleep by now, but Dick couldn't fall asleep this early. He didn't think he'd ever be able to break his night owl habits. It was the natural consequence of being Batman's partner for years.
A partner, who had apparently been replaced.
Batman, Bruce, a man that Dick had come to view as his own father, had taken Dick's family colors and his mother's nickname from him. He had then handed them over to a random child without even asking him. Without even telling him.
Bruce now had a new partner, a new son.
Dick had been replaced in every way possible.
He sneered, reaching forward to close the laptop before pushing himself out of his chair. The door slammed shut behind him.
At least with the rest of the team asleep and Batman happy in Gotham with a new kid, no one would be able to lecture him for patrolling while upset and alone. He could use some physical anger management right now.
The first time that Dick returned to Gotham after the news was, in all honesty, a shit show. He had only stepped foot in the manor because Alfred asked him to come pick up some baked goods for his team. Dick had checked Bruce's schedule for the day, seen that he was supposed to go into the office, and agreed. He had specifically planned to not see him. He had planned around the fact that Bruce would be absent for the majority of the day. Dick had not planned on Bruce changing his mind last minute, and him ending up screaming at Bruce in the middle of the entry foyer of Wayne Manor.
"You said you fired me because you didn't want a sidekick Bruce!" he yelled, his voice filling the entire foyer with rage. "Well, you're a damned hypocrite!"
"Dick, it's not like that–" Bruce started.
"Then where the hell have you been for the last year Bruce! Not a single word!" Dick cut him off. "It's almost as if–"
He snapped his mouth shut. There was a small head poking around the corner of the foyer's east exit. The kid was young, with messy black hair and soft blue eyes. His eyes were wide open and trained directly on Dick. His mouth was slightly ajar in an expression that Dick very painfully recognized as astonishment.
Dick turned around and left the manor, tupperware filled with cookies and pastries shoved underneath his arm.
He didn't say goodbye to Alfred, and certainly not to Bruce.
He also didn't say a word to Jason.
"I just don't know," Dick murmured softly as Kori's arms tightened around him. She had pulled him into her lap on the couch of Titans Tower, insisting that he clearly needed a bit of cuddle time.
The rest of the Titans had left for the day, aside from Victor who was holed up in the lab working on some project. Honestly, knowing Kori, she might have basically ordered them to bug off for a while. It wouldn't surprise him.
"Don't know what?" Her soft voice filled his ears. The sound helped to calm a small part of his racing mind. But the majority of it remained as turbulent as ever.
Dick sighed heavily. "I don't know what I'm supposed to think." Kori hummed softly, and he took it as a cue to keep going. "I'm angry, I know that. Bruce tried to bench me, just for being shot in the shoulder by the Joker. He tried to take my uniform and name, as if he had any right to that! It's not like I haven't been injured before!" Dick groaned, burrowing slightly deeper into Kori's embrace. He felt her press a soft kiss to his hair.
"And then," Dick continued after a moment, "he doesn't bother to try and contact me for months. I haven't heard a word from him since I left Gotham. No text messages, calls, or even letters. No carrier pigeons sent out to track me down!" Dick took a deep breath and tried to push down the liquid gathering at the corner of his eyes.
He failed.
"Then he goes and replaces me with some other kid, giving that boy everything I made, my family's uniform and name, without even bothering to tell me." Dick's voice hitched softly. Kori's arms loosened slightly, but only for a moment. She turned him around and let him bury his face in her shoulder. He gratefully clung onto the ember of warmth that her arms, circling around him and tightly hugging him, gave him. Kori was here, even though his own father figure didn't care enough to be.
Kori continued to hold him in her arms, gently rocking him and letting him soak her shoulder with tears. She didn't say a word to convince him to stop. She only accepted it with a love and tenderness that made Dick's heart clench.
She was here, and she wouldn't let him go. That was all that really mattered right now.
The trouble really only began after Dick stumbled across a news report about Poison Ivy's most recent escape from Arkham. It described how she had been tied up and left on the doorstep of the GCPD with no identification as to her capturer. Naturally, that meant Batman had been responsible for it.
Dick hummed softly and pulled up the Gothamite forums as he took a sip of the coffee on the kitchen table next to him. It was early enough that most of the other Titans weren't awake yet, but Dick could hear the faint sounds of the tower starting to fill with life. Poison Ivy was a big enough villain that someone would have seen her attack and posted about it. He took a sip from his coffee and began to scroll down the webpage, glancing over the post titles.
New goods on 34th street, Penguin spotted in Diamond District, Robin hurt by Two Face, Watch the alleys in Old Gotham– Dick paused. He backtracked slightly, his heart dropping as he read the title again and immediately clicked on the post.
Hey guys, figured I'd post a warning since we all know how the Bat gets when Robin's been hurt. Anyway, I was in the Narrows the other day and got wrapped up in a fight between Two Face's goons and the Bat. At one point, one of the guys managed to grab ahold of Robin and rough him up a bit. I couldn't see how bad it was from where I was camped out, but they probably at least broke a few things before Batman could get there. So take it easy for a bit. Don't pull any big risks till Robin's back in the field. You'll have better luck then.
Dick read the post, read it again, and skimmed the words a final time. The post never changed. There was no hidden information, no details on Robin's status. It was nothing more than a warning for the Gotham lowlifes to be careful for a bit. They didn't need more information than that. It was just an unfortunate reality that Dick did.
Because, as pissed as he was at Bruce, Dick's fight was not with Jason. Jason was just a child who got wrapped up in something far bigger than him. He was a kid fighting monsters that no kid should ever have to think about, much less face head-on.
Dick did not like Bruce right now.
But Jason was a kid.
He reached for his phone, instinctively navigating to his messages app and opening it before pausing. Jason's number was not in his contacts. Dick had only seen the kid once and had never even spoken to him. There had been no chance for Dick to get his contact information.
Of course, it wouldn't exactly be hard for him to hack into Batcomputer and pull Jason's number off the files. But if he was going to go through the trouble of accessing Batman's locked down files from a different state, then Dick may as well just read Jason's actual injury report.
There was no reason to bother a boy he barely knew.
Dick sighed, took another sip of his coffee, and switched to his terminal.
In the end, Bruce was the one to reach out first. It had come after a particularly dangerous Titans mission, one that ended up with Dick seriously injured and half of the team on the verge of collapsing.
The message wasn't anything much, just a simple "Are you okay?" But it was still a first step. It was proof that Bruce still cared about him.
Dick's face broke into a broad smile.
His first dinner back at the manor was a tense, stilted affair. Alfred's cooking, just as delicious as Dick remembered, practically covered the entire dining table. Dick had taken his old spot at Bruce's right hand, leaving Jason to sit directly across from him on Bruce's left. Ace curled up on top of Dick's feet underneath the table.
Dick's hand clenched tightly around his glass as Bruce spoke. His own words, sharp and brittle, didn't help to soothe the air of growing tension.
Yes, Bruce had reached out just as Dick wanted. Yes, they had exchanged some very awkward words. Yes, it had eased a bit of the pain in his heart. But it did not magically fix everything. Nothing could.
Jason's eyes flitted between them with growing concern, and it was that sight that made Dick stop and take a deep breath. No, it didn't matter just how frustrated he was at Bruce right now. They could work through that later, in a room with no weapons and most importantly, no children.
All that mattered was that right now, there was a nervous young boy in front of Dick.
"So how are you enjoying Gotham Academy Jason?" Dick asked, pointedly ignoring Bruce's attempts at talking about the Titans.
Jason blinked, almost as if he hadn't expected Dick to address him directly. It made Dick's heart twist slightly. But, the light in Jason's eyes as he spoke about the theater club he was thinking of joining and the book he was reading in English class helped lighten that pain.
Dick smiled softly.
He walked out of Wayne Manor with another tupperware of baked goodies, a firm pat on the shoulder from Bruce, and a new number in his phone.
Dick felt, well, kinda weird after that.
He first noticed it when he went out with Kori and stumbled across a small bookshop. It was a homely little place, practically a hole in the wall. The lighting was soft and ambient, and every flat surface was covered by either books, or potted plants. Vines draped across the ceiling, linking furniture together in a beautiful chaos. There was soft furniture to sit on, and tea could even be ordered at the cash register.
As Dick was browsing the shelves in the historical fiction section, he stumbled across a well worn copy of Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë. Jason had mentioned her the last time Dick visited the Manor a couple of weeks ago, having been dragged to Saturday lunch by Alfred. Hm, now that he thinks of it, doesn’t this seem like the sort of place Jason would probably like?
Dick started to reach for the phone in his pocket, but paused.
He couldn’t be sure that Jason would like this shop. He only really knew, from Jason’s praises of English class and the manor’s library, and Alfred’s amused words, that Jason liked reading. But Dick didn’t know whether Jason also liked plants, small stores, or even tea. Dick also didn’t know whether Jason would even like to hear from him.
Dick twisted his mouth and let his hand fall away from his pocket. He placed the book back on the shelf and went to find Kori.
After that, the feeling became pretty common.
Dick had seen a news report on Bruce Wayne’s latest charity gala, and heard about how his new child accidentally tripped Mrs. Penstemon, insulted young Max Berclex to his face, and was spotted sneaking out of the gala to get ice cream. His first thought, after the pride he felt at Jason already sending high society into a tizz, was that he should teach all of the best ways to get between Bruce and whoever his date for that evening was. His second thought was that Jason probably wouldn’t appreciate Dick butting into his shenanigans like that.
There were the times that Dick would see something funny while on a mission with the Titans, and have to remind himself that Jason probably didn’t want to hear all about Dick’s own missions.
He would be window shopping downtown and, upon coming across a video game store, be struck with the fact that he didn’t know if Jason would like any of the games he saw. Actually, he didn’t really know what Jason liked doing for fun.
It just kept happening, again and again. Sometimes, Dick couldn’t go more than a couple of days without being reminded that Jason existed and he knew almost nothing about him. That Dick had barely spoken more than a few sentences to the young boy he saw every time he returned to Gotham.
Jason was part of Dick’s life now, for better or for worse. And Dick was basically nothing more than a stranger to him.
He wasn’t sure what to do or how to feel about that.
It was Lois Lane's interview with Bruce Wayne's newest child that finally broke Dick.
Her getting the exclusive interview had been nothing short of a miracle that journalists would probably be trying to replicate for decades. Of course, none of them knew it would be impossible to do so since they weren't members of, or in relationships with members of, the Justice League.
Lois' questions had started off fairly easy. They were things like Jason's favorite color (which Dick hadn't known, a realization that unsettled him. It was apparently red. He mentally took a note of that), his thoughts on living with Bruce so far (Alfred made the tastiest food ever and was the best part of the whole thing), and what book he would recommend people read (Jane Austen's Persuasion was apparently one of the best romances of all time).
It was her twelfth question that shot a bullet directly at Dick's heart.
So Jason, how does it feel to no longer be an only child? Has Dick been a good big brother to you so far?
Well Miss Lane, I honestly haven't spoken to him much yet. But he is really nice and, honestly, kind of cool. I'm excited to get to know my big brother more!
Dick snapped the newspaper shut. He took a deep breath, held it, and let it out before desperately repeating the process. The world spun around him. He wasn't sure he could even see straight, much less process his thoughts.
My big brother.
Dick pushed himself to his feet and stumbled out of his bedroom door. He didn't really process anything as his feet carried him up the stairs and onto the roof of the tower. All that he knew was that he really needed some fresh air.
The cool nighttime air hit Dick like a freight train, blowing the already shaky breath out of his lungs. He made his way to the small seating area they had installed on the roof and practically collapsed on the bench.
My big brother.
Jason, the boy he had barely spoken more than a few words to, had called him his big brother in an official news article. Sure, Bruce had probably told him to make them look like a happy family that cared so much about each other for the press. But that didn't change the fact that the words had left Jason's mouth.
My big brother.
God, that was right, wasn't it? Dick was Jason's older brother, at least according to the paperwork.
He had always wanted to have a big family. The circus where he'd grown up had honestly felt like that. Dick knew the names of everyone in the troop, and no one would hesitate to watch him, play with him, or even let him rest his head on them if his parents were busy. Dick had grown up in a large family, and he had lost all of that when Bruce adopted him. He had gone from a group of a couple dozen to a mostly empty manor on sprawling grounds that were ages away from anyone else his own age. It had been a real shock to him at first.
My big brother.
When he was younger, Dick used to wish for his parents to give him a little sibling. He would have doted on them, doing his best to give them everything they ever wished for. They would never feel alone or afraid, not when he was there to give them a hug.
After his parents died and Bruce adopted him, that desire had changed a bit. Dick had looked into the eyes of every child he saved as Robin, and wished that one of them were a sibling for him. He had hoped, sometimes, that Bruce would find one day sit Dick down and give him that fateful talk about how he would always love him, but there was another child who needed them.
My big brother.
Sure, Bruce hadn't exactly sat him down and had that talk with him. He hadn't asked Dick if he wanted a younger brother before plucking Jason off the streets of Gotham. He hadn't asked Dick if he would be willing to give up the mantle of Robin.
But Jason called him his big brother, and said that he wanted to get to know him more.
Dick took a deep breath and turned his head up towards the dark and empty sky.
The real question was whether Jason deserved to have him as a brother. No, not whether Jason was worthy of him, but whether he was worthy of Jason.
What if Dick hurt him somehow? What if Dick left him scrambling, alone and afraid? What if Dick failed in the one thing he had wanted for his entire life?
Did Dick really deserve to try and build something after he had ignored the kid for months, then awkwardly danced around him the few times he had seen him?
He closed his eyes for a long moment before opening them and looking down at the city lights far below him.
Dick didn't care about any of that.
He was Nightwing, Batman's first partner and one of the leaders of his generation of heroes. He could deal with anything that came his way.
What he couldn't deal with was losing this chance, this opportunity that Jason apparently also wanted.
Dick pulled his phone out of his pants, navigated to his messages app, and clicked on the number he so far hadn’t used.
He hesitated for only a moment before pushing onwards. As soon as he was done typing, he pressed send. He didn't give himself the opportunity to backtrack or delete the message.
A small smile spread across his face, one filled with hope, longing, and excitement.
Hey little wing, you wanna learn how to trainsurf?