Chapter Text
Dick still had the night off of patrol, though he was optimistic he would be healed up enough to go back out on patrol next week. In the meantime, he was keeping an eye on things at the Youth Center while reviewing cold cases on his computer, making minimal progress. He heard his comm beep and quickly put it in his ear and answered it, relieved when he heard the voice of Babs and not Batman.
“Hey, so, there’s news. Two-Face is dead,” Oracle informed him.
“Oh, wow, what happened?” Dick asked. He was surprised, though part of him was relieved. Two-Face may not have been the worst rogue they’d ever had, that ‘honor’ was reserved for the Joker and Scarecrow, but Two-Face had been the one responsible for seriously injuring him when he was Robin….the last time he was Robin, in fact, since that incident led to B refusing to let him continue in the role.
“GSW to the head, Batman has verified it, though he is waiting on DNA confirmation before truly announcing it,” Oracle said then paused before continuing, “Red Hood was the one who shot him, reportedly Two-Face was threatening a teenager at gun point.”
“Don’t you mean Phoenix?” Dick quipped, still processing.
“Well, he was out as Red Hood so I think that title is accurate in this case. Which, it’s odd he was out like that to start with, B thinks he planned it and is upset about it,” Oracle said.
“Huh…well, B and Harvey were friends once, I’m guessing this death upsets him. Do I, uh, need to mediate? Are B and Hood fighting?” Dick replied.
“They seem to be trying to discuss it with a sense of professionalism, and I have Agent A on standby in case it’s needed. I think those books you made B read are truly helping him to communicate in a more healthy way,” Oracle commented.
“Good, good, still though, I worry, this is….a contentious topic,” Dick said, “I’d like to stay posted on it.”
They stayed on the comms for a bit, just making small talk about cases, Dick made more progress on the cold cases with some of her suggestions.
After a while, Oracle spoke up again, “Okay, I got the all-clear from Agent A that they were able to discuss things mostly civilly and Phoenix left the batcave.”
Dick breathed a sigh of relief, “That’s good to know.”
“Also, apparently the teenager involved in the incident was Duke Thomas, apparently he’s a meta? B brought him back to the cave earlier to give him a few stitches for an injury he got, now Robin is dropping him off at the Youth Center,” Oracle informed him.
“Okay, I’ll be sure to check on him when he gets here,” Dick replied before thinking over it a bit more, “Do you…..think B is planning to train him? He doesn’t normally bring outsiders to the cave like that.”
“I mean, he hasn’t said as much, but you know him better than me,” Oracle admitted.
“I suppose if he’s a meta, then B wants to at least keep an eye on him moving forwards,” Dick mused, “I think B is reluctant to facilitate more kids becoming vigilantes, which is probably for the best, but he’d also rather supervise than have teenagers off being vigilantes alone, so it’s possible…..and the kid is newly orphaned, B taking an interest, hmm.....,” Dick trailed off.
“Calculating the odds of a new sibling?” Babs teased.
“A little,” Dick admitted, “Anyways, I think I’ll get off comms, plan to go down and talk to him a bit to check in when he gets here.”
“Are you planning to foster this one yourself?” Oracle asked, only slightly teasingly.
“I move around too much,” Dick deflected, not wanting to admit that his own tendency to adopt siblings first. Though he was starting to consider it, he had previously completed the certification to be a foster parent, mainly intending it on a short-term basis for kids at the center. Dick bid her farewell and hung up.
Dick pulled on a hood and put some shoes on before slowly making his way downstairs. He grabbed a small snack and started slowly eating it in the cafeteria there, an excuse for why he was down there at this hour. After a few more minutes, he heard the door chime, so he quickly finished his snack and casually made his way over, idly noting the time on the clock.
Dick threw the trash from his snack in the can, purposely making noise so he would not startled Duke as he walked into the hallway. “Hey there, kiddo, what brings you here at 3am?” Dick greeted him. He noticed the bandage on Duke’s shoulder, that must be the wound needing stitches that was mentioned.
“I, uh….,” Duke hesitated, not sure what to say, “Well, it’s been a hell of a night I suppose….didn’t think the new foster home would take kindly to me sneaking back in after I snuck out, so, uh.”
“You’re welcome to stay here for the night. How about we go up to my apartment, we can have some hot chocolate and talk a bit more?” Dick offered.
“I, yeah, that uh sounds like a plan,” Duke mumbled.
Dick made sure to keep up his calm, friendly, and welcoming persona as he was mentally analyzing Duke while they walked up to the apartment. The visibly bandaged injury on his arm was something he could ask about to try and get the full story, since as a civilian he shouldn’t know anything about what had happened. Based on how Duke had been answering him, Dick was worried he might be somewhat in shock, though it was hard to tell if he was just being evasive in answering or if he himself was a bit out of it.
They reached the apartment and Dick indicated for Duke to sit on the couch while he made the hot chocolate. There was a throw blanket on the top of the couch and Dick resisted the urge to wrap the teen in the blanket, he didn’t want to be too pushy or act overly familiar. But having Duke sit in that location was purposeful because it was there if he needed it.
As Dick was topping off the hot chocolate with whipped cream, he noticed that Duke had indeed pulled the blanket to be around his shoulders. He quietly made his way over with the mugs of cocoa, setting his own down on the coffee table while gently yet firmly handing Duke’s to him, ensuring he had it properly before letting go.
Dick sat in an armchair near the couch and took a sip of his drink, noticing Duke was just holding his securely in both hands, taking in the warmth. “You should drink it, it’ll help,” Dick prompted gently.
Duke blinked then took a sip of his drink, relaxing a bit as he did so. He looked around a bit, his eyes regaining their usual level of awareness.
Dick purposely took a large loud slurp of his own drink while ensuring he picked up a mustache of whipped cream from the drink, hoping to break the tension a bit. Duke noticed, rolling his eyes a bit while he took a large sip of his own cocoa, though in a much more dignified fashion. Dick licked the whipped cream off of his lip then took a normal sip before setting down his mug.
“So, do you want to talk about what happened tonight?” Dick asked softly. He was careful to speak softly and gently without making it patronizing or coddling, he had a lot of experience talking with kids after traumatic events, especially from his time as Robin.
“What makes you think something happened?” Duke deflected. Dick was glad that Duke was aware enough to try and be evasive, though it did make questioning him more difficult.
“Well, aside from what you said when you came in, the bandage on your arm is a pretty big indicator. You didn’t have that when you were here earlier today, so it must be a recent injury,” Dick calmly explained.
“Yeah, I, uh…got grazed by a bullet,” Duke admitted.
“The bandaging looks professional, did you go to Leslie’s? Do you need me to check it over at all? I am an EMT,” Dick offered.
“I’m good for now, but yeah, I suppose it would be good to have someone to help change the bandages and stuff later, I uh needed a few stitches,” Duke said.
“Okay, I can check it for you tomorrow…or, well, later today given the time,” Dick said, “Have you received any medication for it? How badly does it hurt?”
“Oh, uh, just a localized numbing agent before the stitches were done. It doesn’t hurt too bad though,” Duke said, trying to downplay it. He drank his cocoa, draining it, though he could not hide his mild flinch as he moved his injured arm.
“I’ve been grazed by a bullet bad enough to need stitches before, I suppose it may not be too bad when you are still, but with where your injury is, I’m guessing it hurts a fair bit if you try to move that arm,” Dick stated, pausing a moment to see if Duke would respond. When he didn’t, Dick continued, “How about some standard anti-inflammatory medicine? It helps with the pain and helps promote healing.”
“Yeah, I suppose that would be okay,” Duke agreed. He paused with a thoughtful look before asking, “When and why were you grazed by a bullet?”
“You mean aside from the inherent risk of living in Gotham? I was previously a police officer in Bludhaven,” Dick said by way of explanation, not giving a specific example as he moved to the kitchen. He heard Duke mumble something under his breath, it sounded like he was saying “Fuck the cops.”
Dick got him the medication along with a small glass of water and a packet of crackers, bringing them over to hand to him. “It’s best not to take on an empty stomach,” Dick said, explaining the crackers, “If you’re actively hungry, I can make you more to eat.”
“Oh, uh, I did eat dinner before I snuck out,” Duke said. He swallowed the pills with the water then started nibbling on the crackers while peering at Dick with a suddenly suspicious look. Dick thought over the conversation before realizing the why Duke was suddenly wary.
“Anyways, yeah, Percy convinced me to stop being a cop, that the whole trying to change the system from the inside wasn’t really feasible, and admittedly I’m much happier now that I’m not doing that anymore, I like teaching gymnastics and occasionally doing EMT work,” Dick admitted, “I always aimed to help people and now I can actually do so without all the…,” he trailed off.
“Without all the bullshit and corruption? Yeah,” Duke snarked, though he seemed more at ease now.
“I was going to say paperwork,” Dick quipped in a purposely joking tone, “But yeah, you’re not wrong.”
Duke did not reply, he was eating the crackers. Dick waited for him to finish before asking his next question. “So, who patched you up? I’m guessing it wasn’t Leslie,” Dick commented.
“Why not?” Duke asked.
“A few reasons, for one, she would’ve given you a pamphlet with care instructions, but also, she wouldn’t have let you wander off in the middle of the night, would have insisted on either calling someone for you or for you to stay at the clinic at least until morning,” Dick reasoned.
“Maybe she did, but then I snuck out,” Duke argued.
“She would have noticed and she likely would have called me to check up on you,” Dick replied.
“You just have an answer for everything, don’ ya,” Duke muttered. He paused for a moment, considering, before he sighed.
“Bat-, One of the bats patched me up,” Duke admitted. Clearly, he had been about to say Batman, before deciding to be more vague.
“That makes sense,” Dick said, “How did you get hurt?”
“Whaddaya think, I got shot at, couldn’t dodge all the way,” Duke snarked.
“Well, it’s good that you were able to dodge enough to minimize injury, it could have been a lot worse,” Dick warned caringly, “Why were you shot at?”
“This is Gotham, do people need a reason?” Duke deflected.
“It has actually gotten a bit better in recent years,” Dick commented before continuing his questioning, “The expected reason would be that someone tried to mug you, but if someone mugged you and a bat rescued you, you would just come out and say it. Also, regardless, the question remains of why you snuck out to wander around Gotham in the middle of the night,” Dick questioned.
“Maybe I just needed to get away,” Duke said, continuing to deflect.
“I know I gave you my number before we sent you to this most recent foster home, so you could call me if you needed help, if something was wrong. The idea was so you wouldn’t go sneaking out at night and endangering yourself again,” Dick said firmly, while ensuring the concern he felt showed through.
“I’m sorry, I…I thought I could handle things myself,” Duke said, avoiding eye contact.
“What things were you trying to handle?” Dick asked.
“It doesn’t matter anymore I guess, I…,” Duke trailed off, upset as he thought about what had happened tonight.
Dick decided to change his angle a bit. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re not in trouble. I just want to help you, and I want to know what happened so that I can help. Was it something bad at the foster home, or something else?”
“No, the foster home was….fine, I guess. I mean, it was safe and stuff, they were a bit patronizing though, but well-meaning I think? I got the impression they wanted to be fostering younger kids, possibly looking for someone to adorable and adoptable, but Susan requested they foster me at least short term,” Duke rambled a bit.
“That’s good,” Dick commented, “So, why did you sneak out, then?”
“I don’t want to get in trouble,” Duke said.
Dick thought a moment, he’d already said that Duke wasn’t in trouble, but if that wasn’t reassuring enough; “You know, I may be a serious and mostly responsible adult now, but I snuck out all the time as a teenager,” Dick said reassuringly before deciding to press it a bit more, “Even when I was a younger kid, right after my parents died, I snuck out a lot….which, it was way too dangerous for me to be sneaking out at that age.”
Duke looked contemplative, “I forgot that you were an orphan too, it seems like you’ve been with Bruce Wayne for forever.”
“It’s been a while, yeah, most if not all of your lifetime, I suppose,” Dick said.
“Your parents…I remember seeing something about a trapeze accident? Or were they killed?” Duke asked.
“Their line was cut. So yes to both, it was during a trapeze act and they were killed,” Dick replied softly. He didn’t like talking about his parents’ death, but at this point he was used to it, and if it could help get the kid to open up, then it was worthwhile.
“How did you feel about the person who killed them? Did they….get brought to justice?” Duke asked carefully.
“Oh, I was furious, wanted to track down the one responsible. Everyone was calling it an accident, but I knew the line had to have been sabotaged, but no one would believe me initially,” Dick admitted.
“So, what happened? Did the killer get away? Did he die?” Duke asked.
Dick thought carefully, not wanting to give too much away, “Well, Batman ended up figuring it out and the killer was arrested. Evidently, he did it because of some mob racketeering thing, because the circus wouldn’t pay protection money, which….it still pisses me off that they were killed for something so stupid,” Dick explained, taking a deep breath, “Anyways, he ended up dying in prison about a decade or so later.”
“Did you want him to die? Were you relieved when you found out he was dead?” Duke asked.
“I was a kid and I was angry, of course part of me wanted him to die to start, but I made peace with him being arrested and brought to justice, and that helped me begin to move on,” Dick explained, “When I found out he was dead….it was a hollow sort of relief, I suppose? Part of me was relieved because he was dead, but also it was underwhelming, not as satisfying as I had previously hoped it would be.
“When you lose someone, it’s easy to want revenge, to want vengeance, but eventually, anger just burns you up inside and leaves you hollow. Rather than revenge, it’s better to want justice, for them to not be able to hurt someone anymore. And at the end of the day, when you find out they’re dead, it’s not….vindication, not satisfaction, but it can be the closure that helps you start to move on,” Dick said passionately and intently, wanting to impart this lesson, to help this kid not be consumed by anger and revenge.
“What if I don’t want to move on, don’t want to forget? They are--, they were my parents, they were good parents, I love them,” Duke said tearfully.
“Moving on does not mean forgetting. I mean, it’s normal for childhood memories to blur some over time, but you’re old enough now that you should be able to remember them fairly clearly. Moving on means continuing to live your life, find ways to be happy, not ruminating and obsessing over their death. The grief, it doesn’t ever go away completely, it just gets easier to carry over time. And there will still be days that are bad, anniversaries or holidays and such, where you suddenly feel bowled over by the grief, but with time you learn how to manage it and those days become less common. And it becomes easier to remember the good times without becoming consumed by the grief,” Dick explains.
Duke nodded in acknowledgement, but it was clear he was trying not to cry. Dick carefully handed him a box of tissues, “It’s okay to cry, to grieve, to feel the emotions you are feeling. Crying is cathartic, it helps you process your emotions.”
Duke accepted the tissues and started to cry, to sob. Dick sat down on the couch beside him, not quite touching, wanting to comfort him but not wanting to be pushy, leaving space for Duke to come to him.
The blanket around Duke’s shoulders had slipped, so Dick went to gently move it back over his shoulder. Duke leaned into the touch, so Dick patted him on the back reassuringly. Duke leaned into his outstretched arm, turning into his chest. Dick responded, pulling Duke into a soft embrace, not restrictive but comforting, to hold him as he cried.
“It’s okay, let it all out, you’re safe,” Dick reassured him softly. He held him for a bit until he was all cried out.