Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

8 years old

The funeral had been a big thing. He had been told it had to have been a big thing, because his parents weren’t just anybody’s. No, they were Martha and Thomas Wayne for crying out loud, practically Gotham royalty. In truth, Bruce had wanted to be anywhere but the funeral, but he didn’t have a choice. Just like he didn’t have a choice of who planned the funeral or when it happened or anything anymore. The only thing he had a choice over - and really, he didn't even have a say in this, he just got lucky - was that he had not been ripped from his home, away from the last thing he had from his parents. He still had Alfred, too… he actually had everything he had before, just… the world was missing two people, he was missing two people. Two very important people. And he couldn’t stop it, even if he tried. And he did try, he tried so hard. But the gunshot still echoed in his nightmares, reminding him over and over again that they were gone. They were gone like so many people. Gotham was such a crime-filled place. How could anyone live here? How could anyone live here and just watch it all go by, not trying to stop it? He doesn’t know, because he can’t. He can’t know of the bad that happens in the very city he lives in and do nothing about it. No, he will do something about it. He will do it for the people, for his parents, for himself.

22 years old

He stepped into the cave and took off his cowl, plopping down into the chair in front of the computer. Another great night's work done. It had been a little over 5 months since he started as Batman, since he returned to Gotham after his travels. It hadn’t changed at all in the 6 years he had been gone. Crime was still high, people were still scared, and his mission still stood. He would help the people of this town, even if at the moment they didn't want his help. He had recently been making progress with the police after the new commissioner, Commissioner Gordon, showed interest in having an alliance of sorts. It played out in his favor; the police stopped chasing him, and he got all the information about cases he needed. In exchange, he would help the police force, not work against them as he had been.

“Another long night, Master Bruce?” Alfred was there, eyes scanning over him for injuries as he always did. He was so lucky to have Alfred, the man was a saint. 

“Yes. Yes, with the help of the police force I was able to get the Riddler behind bars, but there’s a new player, the Commissioner said he treated to poison the reservoir. Someone calling himself the Joker.”

Chapter Text

Age 8

How could the world be so cruel? How could it snatch the light away, and worst of all, make you watch as it turns dark? The last few days had been a blur. Someone said there would be a small funeral for his parents, which someone had offered to pay for. He hadn’t paid attention to the name; he didn't really care. He couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to be here, but he was. He was standing at the graves of his parents after they fell, crying in the rain. His clothes were wet; he didn't know if it was because of his tears or the rain, probably both. Most of the people here were from the circus, paying their respects and keeping an eye on him. But there was one man he had never seen before. His face looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Not that Dick cared. So what if some random man was at his parents' funeral? That was totally fine. He didn’t really care, not anymore; he just wanted to know what had happened. How could they have fallen? He would find out, especially since he was apparently staying in Gotham. He wasn’t allowed to be in the circus without a guardian and was placed in Gotham's social services. He had asked one of the other performers to adopt him; he didn't really care which, they were all his family. But because they traveled so much, most of them didn’t have all the needed documents to adopt him. So they would leave the next day, and he would stay here. Without the circus. Without Zitka. Without his family.

Age 8 (again)

The manor is huge. How could one person live here alone? Well, Bruce wasn’t technically alone because of Alfred, but still, two people for this big of a house just doesn't make sense. But who was he to question the lifestyle of others? He had pieced it together while he was in juvy. There had been a few magazines, and lo and behold, right there on the cover of one was the man from the funeral. He recognized the man as Bruce Wayne, the richest of the rich in Gotham. He had probably been the one to pay for the whole thing, and probably been there that night… Why he decided to take him in, even though he was a rich playboy, he had no clue. But it didn’t matter; anything was better than being stuck with those kids and being bullied in juvy. It probably wouldn't have been all bad if he could defend himself, but his English wasn't great; he was fluent, but that didn't mean he was perfect at it. He would, however, miss the nighttime visits by Batman; he was pretty cool. Batman said he approved of Bruce taking him in, having "seen the man grow", whatever that meant. Bruce was only 25, and Batman had only been around for three years, so Dick didn’t know how that worked, but he didn’t question it. Instead, he accepted when Bruce Wayne took him in as his ward. Now, he was living in a castle! Or a manor, as Alfred had said. He snapped out of his thoughts and back to the present, where he was trying to find the kitchen… maybe he could see better from the chandelier?

Age 9

The wind was whipping through his hair. He was flying again. It had been so long since he had flown, too long. It felt right to be out here again. He landed on a rooftop, turning and smiling at Bruce as he landed behind him. It hadn't taken him long to put together Bruce was Batman -living with a person makes finding their secrets a lot easier. As soon as he had found out, it all made sense. Batman coming to visit him in juvy, showing him a better way in life and "approving of Bruce Wayne".He still didn't understand why he would take Dick in, but why question it when nothing is wrong? After figuring out Bruce was Batman - Not that the man was trying to hide it very hard - he realized he could still help the world like he wanted to, just in a better way. The whole reason he had ended up in juvy was that he went after Tony Zucco. But now, as Robin, he could actually stop him. The best part? Robin was his family's. His family's colors, the name his mother had given him. It was great, Batman and Robin! He could already see it; they would work together and stop criminals, striking fear into the hearts of all who dared cross them. Bruce had said his suit was too colorful, he didn't care, and was stubborn enough that eventually Bruce caved, letting him go out in it. The commissioner was, to say the least, surprised when Dick showed up. Dick couldn't blame the guy, but this was happening, and he had better get used to it quickly.

"Come on, B! You're slowing me down. We have criminals to stop!"

Age 16

Dick was curled up in his bed at Titans Tower. No one had asked questions when he arrived, barely holding it together, and ran into his room. No one had come knocking on his door asking for answers; they were letting him have space, waiting for him to come out. That’s what three years of working together gets you, doesn’t it? Full trust… he and Bruce had been working together for a little over seven years, yet the Titans trusted him more the Bruce ever would. And not only did Bruce not trust him, but he went so far as to fire him because of one tiny mistake! So what if he almost got shot? Key world, almost. It’s not like Bruce hadn’t been on his deathbed while he and Dick were working together. And who was he to take Robin away from him? Robin, which wasn’t even Bruce’s; it was his. It was his family’s. But no, Bruce took the suit. Bruce took the legacy and the name that was his parents' was his. Dick doesn’t know what Bruce plans to do with it, but he doesn’t care. He was a vigilante, whether Bruce liked it or not. He knew the others would help him, Wally, Starfire, Donna, hell, even Clark would probably help him. Clark… what was that Kryptonian story he had told Dick when he was younger?

Chapter Text

Age 11

His father had been a shitbag and had been dead for a little over a year. He and his mother were close, though. They were supposed to say that way, just him and his mom. She was starting to try for him. It wasn't like it was before, but she had given up on the drugs. She wasn’t supposed to have more. She said she would stop. But of course she hadn’t. And now she was dead, and Jason was in this too-big house that he didn’t want to be in because he had been trying to steal the tires off the Batmobile. Now, his world had been flipped upside down. He had been adopted by Bruce Wayne, who is also Batman. How? Jason didn’t know. He also didn’t care. He just wanted to punch the dealer who gave his mom the drugs. He wanted to make sure no kid ever suffered like he did. He wanted to stop bad people. He wanted to help people… And Bruce said he could. That he knew a way Jason could help people every night. Jason had started training the day after he got to the manor, and he couldn’t even contain his excitement. He was going to be Robin. The Robin! The boy wonder himself! How had he gotten this lucky?

Age 15

Blood dripped down his face, his nose broken and his left eye swollen. Bruce had told him to stay put, that it was dangerous, but Jason, being the stubborn boy he was, thought he could handle it. He knew dickface would have been able to handle it at this age and wanted to prove he could, too. And who was Bruce to say he couldn't go try to find his mother? His real mother. That wasn't Bruce's decision. But no, all he had gotten for his troubles was a crowbar and a bomb. A bomb that was slowly ticking down. His body felt weak all over. Who knew a crowbar could do so much damage? He didn’t know which bones were broken and which were just in pain, but all of them hurt. He was going to die and he couldn’t be mad at anyone but himself. He just wanted to help people… well, he had helped people. He remembers the kid he helped save from that man last week, and the drug ring he and Bruce took down together. Hell, even just helping the kid get the cat down from a tree had been good. He had done well; he had helped so many people… he just wished he could help himself.

5

This is what it’s like to die.

4

He remembers the good he did for the world.

3

He wishes he could have made Dick and Bruce proud.

2

Goodbye world.

1

He faintly hears his name being called out before everything goes black.

Age 17

Everything is hot and green and rage.

He’s alive.