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“They may improve over time.”
“It will take time for the toxins to leave their systems.”
“Their minds may still be intact underneath the delirium.”
“We can’t say anything definitive about their recovery yet.”
“We should stay hopeful.”
“They’re still your parents.”
Sometimes, it felt like Bruce was a stuck record, saying the same things, over and over, like it would do any good. Duke tried to not let it get to him – he knew Bruce was trying to help – but it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Duke tried to not think about it. He kept himself busy. He devoted himself to his studies, visited his parents when he could and worked hard to meet Batman’s expectations. He kept himself busy because if he stopped to think about it for even a second, the reality of things would sink in. He was working to get stronger. He knew how to throw a punch, but Bruce wanted him to know more about hand-to-hand combat. Said he needed to learn to fight in situations where running away wasn’t an option.
It was Duke’s birthday, and he was busying himself with his training instead of going out with his friends, because…
… well, it was kinda embarrassing to admit, but he didn't really know how to celebrate without his mom and dad.
Birthdays used to be a family thing. Mom and Dad used to take him out to the movies or to the arcade or whatever. Dad would write a silly joke in his birthday card and slip five dollars into his back pocket when Mom wasn’t looking, and Mom would let Duke order lemonade and ice-cream for dessert.
It was weird to think about how he was gonna be spending this birthday alone.
Well, not alone .
But he might as well have been.
Bruce was working silently on the computer, tapping keys and mumbling to himself under his breath. He hardly seemed to have registered that Duke was in the room. It was kinda scary, how easily Bruce could ignore you, if he was busy with something he thought was more important. Sometimes, it made Duke feel like he didn’t matter to Bruce.
Whatever.
Duke threw another punch at the punching bag. He was sweating all the way through his tank top, at this point. He’d probably need to cool off in the showers or something. It was pretty cold in the cave, so he’d been wearing a jacket when he came down, but he’d long since taken it off.
“You’re pushing yourself.” Bruce didn’t even turn around to look at Duke. Just started speaking, eyes still locked on the computer screen.
“No, I’m not.” Duke hit the bag again, hard enough to hear the chain rattle.
“Duke…”
It drove Duke nuts when Bruce used that tone with him – half-annoyance and half-pity.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re going to hurt your hands if you continue like this,” Bruce said, his voice frustratingly even. “If you insist on continuing, fetch some gauze and wrap your knuckles.”
Duke paused, unclenching his fists. His knuckles were starting to hurt…
Fine. Maybe Bruce was right.
Duke went over to the med bay, grabbing some gauze and medical tape. He’d gotten pretty good at wrapping his knuckles recently.
By the time Duke returned to the punching bag, Bruce had turned around to look at him. “I have updates on the toxicology report we ran on your parents’ blood samples. It seems that the toxins levels are beginning to lower, though the difference isn’t significant yet.”
“Okay,” Duke said, checking the wrappings on his hands one final time, giving the punching bag an experimental jab. “Good.”
“You should visit them soon.”
Another punch. It was easy to fall into the rhythm. Like nothing else mattered.
“I will.”
One. Two.
“Duke, are you unhappy with me?”
“What?”
One. Two. Three.
“You’ve been short with me today.”
One. Two.
“It’s nothing.”
One. Two. Three.
“Your parents are recovering. I thought you’d be happy.”
“I am.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“Well, I am happy,” Duke gritted. “Stop pushing, Bruce.”
“You should be more thankful. You’ve been tremendously lucky thus far, Duke.”
Duke’s hands stilled, and he whipped around, suddenly feeling something dangerously close to anger blistering under the surface of his skin.
“… you think I’m lucky ?”
Bruce seemed taken aback by Duke’s frustrated tone. “I don’t understand why you are angry with me.”
Duke felt his blood rushing hot. He wanted to scream . “I’m lucky? Really?”
“Yes.”
And Bruce didn’t have to say anything more than that, because Duke knew exactly what was going through his head.
“You’re lucky, because you got them back.”
“You’re lucky, because you didn’t have to bury them.”
“You’re lucky, because you aren’t an orphan.”
“I’m lucky that someone tried to kill my parents to piss you off? I’m lucky that my parents lost their damn minds? I’m lucky that my parents’ case got shuffled to the bottom of the pile because there was always someone more important than them?” Duke’s voice rose with every word. “I’m the lucky one, Bruce? Is that right?!”
“Duke, calm down,” Bruce said, his voice frustratingly even.
“Man, screw you.” Duke threw another punch, putting all his weight behind it. His chest heaved. He felt like he was drowning. “No one else can ever have it worse than poor little Brucie Wayne – is that it?”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
Duke got right up in Bruce’s face, and he gritted out, “I’m sorry your parents died, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t lose mine too! Quit acting like you’re the only one who's suffered.”
“Get out of my cave.” The order was not shouted - simply stated so firmly you couldn’t argue against it.
“Fine!” Duke unravelled his wrappings, leaving the gauze and tape on the floor at Bruce’s feet, and grabbed his jacket. “I’m going out. If you try to follow me, I’ll quit. I swear to God, I mean it this time.”
Bruce said nothing. He just stared.
Duke turned on his heels and walked away. He didn’t stop walking until he’d left the cave, then the manor, then Bristol. He didn’t stop until he was on the bus to Gotham City.
Hands still shaking with residual anger, Duke took out his phone, tapping on Izzy’s contact.
“You busy tonight?” he asked, when she picked up. “Let’s go out somewhere.”
“I thought that guy you live with doesn’t like you going out late.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really care what he thinks right now.”
“Did something happen?”
“Iz, please.” Duke heard his own voice crack. “Please, it’s my birthday, and I just want…”
God, what did he want? Someone to listen? To punch a wall until his knuckles bled? To cry into his mother’s arms like a little kid?
“Drop by the diner,” Izzy said at once. “My mom should be able to fix you up with some free food if I ask, and I get off the clock at eight.”
Relief could be so sweet, sometimes. “You’re the best, Iz.”
“Don’t you forget it.” A brief pause, and then, “I gotta go. I’ll see you at the diner?”
“Yeah, see you there.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t,” Duke said, promising himself as much as Izzy. “See you, soon.”
The diner wasn’t very busy this late at night, which suited Duke. He didn’t really want to talk to anyone except Izzy. He sipped at the lemonade Izzy brought him and picked at the dirty fries, as he watched her carry food out to people and take orders. Finally, Izzy’s shift finished and she took a seat next to Duke.
“So, what happened?” she asked. “Why didn’t you tell me it’s your birthday?”
Duke poked his fries around. “I always spent my birthday with my family.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah.” Duke frowned into his lemonade. It tasted just like the stuff Mom used to buy for him. Probably the same cheap, powdered stuff most places used, but it still tasted nostalgic. “I thought I’d be able to handle it, but Bruce was just so… he does this thing, right, where he doesn’t say anything, but you still know exactly what he’s thinking. And we were talking about my parents, and he was saying all this stuff about how I’m so lucky because at least they aren’t dead, and I totally saw red.”
Izzy made a face that was equal parts rage and disgust. “Seriously? He said that to you?”
Of all the people who had been a part of the We Are Robin movement, Izzy was the one who knew the most about Duke and his family’s situation, so her outrage felt genuine. It felt good to talk to someone who actually understood.
“I just… I can’t believe he actually thinks that,” Duke said. “He knows the kind of stuff I’ve been through. He knows how hard this has all been for me. But nothing’s ever gonna be as bad as the hand he got dealt, I guess, so everyone else just has to shut up and deal with it.”
“That’s bullshit.” Izzy crossed her arms, slouching back in her chair. “I mean, he’s had decades to get over it. He’s a grown-ass man. Why’s he out here acting like a child?”
“That’s kinda harsh,” Duke mumbled, taking a bite of one of the fries. They were starting to go cold. “I mean, he was a little kid. Seeing that kinda thing is bound to mess anyone up. I dunno if it's the kind of thing anyone gets over.”
He had a feeling he’d be having nightmares about seeing Joker’s twisted grin over his father’s shoulder for the rest of his life, so… him and Bruce had the same damage, really.
Even if Bruce believed Duke had it better.
“That’s the thing that really pisses me off, though. Like, I get it. We both suffered but it’s some sort of competition to him. Like, my parents are dead, and yours are still alive, so I win ?”
There was silence between them before Duke added, “I got everything I wanted, and it’s still all wrong. They’re alive, but it still feels like I’ve lost them. They don't remember me. It's like they're different people, and– and I’m not their son anymore.”
“I thought they were getting better,” Izzy responded, seeming more surprised than shocked.
“Their toxin levels are going down, but… not much improvement yet. They might never get better.” Duke’s voice cracked. “I might never get to have another birthday with them or– or listen to one of my dad’s stupid jokes, or one of my mom’s lectures about how sugar will rot my teeth. They don’t even recognise me, most days.”
Why was that the thought that hurt the most?
“If you ever need to crash, you can stay at my place,” Izzy offered. “My mom likes you enough to let you sleep on the couch. Just, you know, don’t tell anyone, ‘cuz if Hector finds out, he’ll be such an asshole about it.”
Duke managed a smile. It was a close thing.
“I’m sorry,” Duke said, reaching for another fry. “I asked you to hang with me, and I’m being such a downer.”
Izzy shrugged. “It’s a hard night for you. I get it.”
“Feels like there’s no such thing as an easy night,” Duke sighed. “Not in Gotham.”
Izzy smirked. “We’ve got a great night-life scene, though. Sometimes, you gotta think positive.”
Duke made a face. “If you like overpriced drinks, loud music and costumes dropping by unannounced, maybe.”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “One of these days I’ll get you to go clubbing with me, and you’ll realize you’ve been missing out.”
“Not happening.”
“One day I’ll break you,” Izzy said dramatically. “You will drink overpriced cocktails, and you will like it.”
“Where did you even get a fake ID?”
“A woman has her ways,” Izzy said cryptically, but she could only maintain her air of mystery for a moment. “... okay, Dre got it for me.”
Duke barked out a laugh. “Knew it!”
Izzy shoved him and he almost spilled his lemonade.
It was nice to spend his birthday with someone who cared, even if it wasn’t his parents.