Chapter Text
Richard Parker
Dick Grayson
Richard Grayson
Robin
Richard John Grayson
Nightwing
Parker
The Boy Wonder
Dick Grayson Wayne
Richard Parker’s top priority had always been his family above all else. A common sentiment among many, he believed. The only problem with it was, sometimes he didn’t know what family he was thinking of, when he swore to protect them.
Logic told him that his family consisted of Ben Parker - his older brother, May Parker - his sister-in-law, Maria Parker - his wife, and his son - Peter Parker. That was the only family he needed.
The back of his mind however, told him there was more. Like how the name ‘Wayne’ clung to him like a parasite, always there and weighing him down. Or how every time he needed to write down his name, he scribbled ‘Grayson’ unconsciously.
Richard Parker should have been happy, fulfilled. He had a successful career as a biochemist, a loving wife and son who he cherished more than anything in the universe, a brother and sister-in-law who supported him through everything, and a happy childhood. He had never suffered through a great tragedy in his lifetime. Every ounce of rationale told him that his life was remarkably average. A happy, average life.
So why did he dream of bats, of rooftops, of flying?
Why was he so positive that he belonged in the sky?
What was the burning, persistent, aching in his soul, telling him that he was missing his family?
Richard looked around the room that he and Maria shared. Average, good, safe. He had heard about the theory of falling asleep and dreaming an entire lifetime. Despite his better judgment, every time he awoke, he glanced at the lamp in the corner, waiting for it to waver. It never did.
The odd feeling of wrong had started about six years prior. He mentioned it to Ben once, looking for advice from his older brother. Ben had told him it was normal to feel stuck at this point in his life. Everyone, no matter how happy they were, could still feel unsatisfied at some points. It made sense, he supposed. The feeling had started when he was twenty six, having gotten married and started his career a year earlier.
Unfulfilled was a normal emotion that everyone felt at some point in everybody’s lives. That reassurance never explained the circus that haunted his dreams, the grief for a family he never had, nor the name he constantly questioned.
“Dad, I need you,” he whispered like a prayer. Richard Parker’s mother and father had passed away a few years back. It was a calm, peaceful, natural death. He was never a religious man, either. The call for help made no rational sense. Yet he still repeated it, everyday, for the past six years.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Richard stood up from the bed, made his way to the bathroom and stared at his reflection. He always expected to see a black and blue suit in the mirror. He always was disappointed to see a simple shirt and pants.
“Your name is Richard Parker. You are the husband to Maria Parker, and Father to Peter Parker. You were raised by your older brother, Benjamin Parker. You work for Oscorp as a biochemist. You live a good, normal life,” he recounted the speech he gave himself day after day.
Maybe one day he would believe the speech. Maybe one day the longing and the dreams would fade away.
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The kitchen radiated warmth as he walked in.
“Morning, how’d you sleep?” Maria greeted him with a smile as she stood over a pan, making breakfast.
“Mm, pretty well,” he shrugged and grabbed a bottle of water. “You?”
“Eh, same old same old. Could you go get Peter ready for school?”
“ ‘Course,” he kissed her on the cheek before making his way to Peter’s room.
He knocked on the door that was covered with stickers, well covered was a strong word, it only went up to however high Peter could reach.
“Come in!” The five year old yelled.
“Hey little robin, you ready for school?” Richard asked his son who was currently writing something in his notebook.
“Do I hafta?” he whined. “I wanna practice my math,” he motioned to the notebook in his lap.
“You’re the only kid in the world who has ever said that,” he chuckled and lifted Peter into his arms.
“Put me down!” Peter protested, trying to wrangle his way out of his father’s grasp.
“Do I hafta?” he mimicked.
“Arghhhhhh,” the five year old accepted his defeat, but not without complaint.
Richard set his son down at the kitchen table. “The Peter Parker you requested has arrived,”
Maria huffed out a laugh as she set down a plate with bacon and eggs for Peter. “You finished all your homework, Bambi?” she questioned.
Peter went wide eyed at the reminder.
“…Yes”
“Peter.”
“…no”
Richard grabbed his backpack that sat next to the front door. “Let’s do it now before school,”
Peter huffed, but reluctantly pulled out his folder. “I just have to put how I know my address and how to write my name and stuff,”
“Alright, should be easy then,” Maria ruffled his hair and sat at the kitchen counter.
A few minutes passed, the husband and wife were talking about the projects they’d been assigned for Oscorp when Peter interrupted, asking for help with his homework.
“It’s asking why I have my first name,” he explained. “I dunno, I wasn’t there,”
Richard laughed and answered. “You were named after your uncle,”
“Well yeah that’s my middle name, but it’s asking about my first name,”
“I know, you got your name from your uncle,” he repeated, as if it were obvious. “Wait, no, that’s not right…”
Maria raised an eyebrow at her husband. He was quiet for a moment. What was that? He didn’t know anyone else named Peter, much less a brother.
“I picked your name because growing up, I was obsessed with Peter Pan,” Maria explained in Richard’s stunned silence.
They quickly moved on, and continued the day as usual. Richard drove the car to drop Peter off at school. The second they continued towards Oscorp, Maria spoke.
“What was that?” she asked.
“What was what?”
“It was like you forgot Peter’s name for a second,” she stared at him, worry evident on her face.
“What, no! I-I just, my brain malfunctioned for a moment, but It’s fine,” he gave her a reassuring smile, that came out more like a grimace.
Maria simply continued to stare at him, reading his expression. Confusion built up in his chest.
“I don’t have a brother with the name Peter,” he swallowed.
“No, you don’t,” his wife confirmed.
“My only brother is Ben,”
“Yes, which is why that’s Peter’s middle name,” Maria replied slowly.
The confirmation still felt wrong. He was missing something, he knew it. The road faded from his focus, his mind racing.
“Jason!” he exclaimed, suddenly.
“Who?”
“Jason Peter Todd,” the name was unrecognizable, yet it felt right. That name was family.
“Richard, who is that?” Maria pressed.
“My… I- I don’t know,” as quick as the name came to him, it faded from memory as if it were never there.
The car slowed into the parking lot. Neither spoke, nor made any move to get out. Richard’s gaze was focused in front of him, as his mind traveled elsewhere. Maria never took her eyes off of her husband.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go to work today, why don’t we just get some rest. If you’re still not feeling right later, we can make a doctor’s appointment,” she suggested, her tone was soft and gentle. It was as if she was speaking to a frightened animal.
“I’m not crazy, Mar,” he finally looked at his wife. “I’m just… confused,”
“I never said anything about being crazy. But confusion like this could be a sign of some sort of illness, we should get it checked out,”
Richard huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh, but lacked the humor to make it such. “Then why have I felt it for six years?”
“What do you mean?” Maria furrowed her eyebrows.
“The past six years, something’s been wrong. My dreams, my thoughts, everything. I’m grieving a life I never had. Mourning a family I never had. Every damn night I dream of bats, clowns, of souring through the sky. I keep thinking about when I was in the circus. I was never in the circus. I don’t know what’s happening anymore, I don’t-“ he choked out a sob, and furiously ran his fingers through his hair.
“What’s my name, Mar?” he begged his wife for an answer, praying that she’d say Grayson. A name that never once belonged to him.
“You’re Richard Parker,” she gripped his shaking hand. “You are Richard Parker,” with finality, she repeated the name that was never his, yet written on his birth certificate.
“No, I’m not,” his voice was broken and wet. He squeezed Maria’s hand to ground him, to remind him where he was. Richard was in a car, in the parking lot of the company he worked for in Queens, New York. He was not in a dark, dreary city that smelled of smoke and death. Nobody was hiding in the shadows. The thought should’ve comforted him, yet it just nauseated him.
Maria continued to look at him, searching his eyes. “Let’s get you to a doctor, yeah?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not-“
“You’re not crazy, I never said you were. But something’s wrong, let’s just get it checked out,” she assured. Maria pushed a strand of hair out of his face. “Please,”
Richard contemplated the request for a moment. He knew he wasn’t insane. Rational told him however, that crazy people don’t think they’re crazy. Maybe the first step to solving the constant war in his mind was admitting that he needed professional help.
“Okay,”
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“Let’s start with your name, shall we?” The psychiatrist suggested.
Maria had made the appointment a few days prior, immediately following his unraveling in the car. She was supportive the entire time, never once showing an ounce of judgment.
“Richard,” he said, fiddling with his sleeves.
The psychiatrist nodded. “Last name?”
“… Parker,”
“You sound unsure,” she pointed out.
“Logically, I know my name is Richard Parker. It’s on every legal document, it’s what I grew up with, but…” he leaned his elbows on his knees. “It feels like it’s not mine, like I’m just wearing someone else’s,”
“Is there a name that you prefer?” the woman questioned, writing something down in her notepad.
“Grayson,” he stated with ease. “My name is Richard John Grayson,”
“How did you discover this, better fitting, name?”
“I didn’t ‘discover’ it. It’s just a simple fact of life. The sky’s blue, an object in motion stays in motion, and my name is Richard Grayson,” he reasoned.
“And how long have you known this?” The psychiatrist asked.
“This all started six years ago,”
“Did any particular event occur six years ago?”
“No, nothing. My life’s always been normal,” his head shook.
“And what other changes did you notice six years ago?” She continued to write in her notepad.
“This… unease started. Like, a gut feeling that this isn’t the life I’m supposed to have,” Richard spoke slowly, thinking over his words.
“And what life are you supposed to have?”
“Flying,” the answer came from him with no hesitation.
“Flying?”
“In Gotham. We flew, we soared, me and The Bat. We owned the rooftops, sky, and shadows,” no thought was behind the words, they just fell from him before he could consider them.
“What did you and this ‘bat’ do while flying?”
“We saved people and stopped bad guys,” he claimed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Who was ‘The Bat’?” The psychiatrist tilted her head in curiosity.
As quickly as the flood of information overtook him, it left. “I- I don’t know…”
Silence washed over the room as the woman scribbled notes. Richard shifted in his seat.
“When you made this appointment, your wife mentioned that you were talking about a brother you didn’t have,” she started. “Can you tell me about him?”
“I had quite a few siblings,” he spoke with uncertainty. “They were… younger, I think,”
“Do you remember their names?”
“Jason is the only name I can remember. But I know that another one loved photography, and another loved art,” he nodded to himself, as if he were confirming his own words.
Before the psychiatrist could ask further details, her alarm rang. The sudden noise made Richard jump. It reminded him of a bomb. He had never been anywhere near a bomb.
“Looks like our time’s up,” the woman stopped the alarm, much to Richard’s relief. “I suggest coming back next week, so we can discuss more,”
“You’ve got it,” he nodded, and left the room.
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He had been lying through his teeth when he agreed to go back. The appointment had gone fine, he supposed. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, he had no real reason not to return.
As tempting as the idea was to keep going back, so maybe he could be cured of whatever it was that was plaguing him for so long, there was an emptiness that overtook him when Richard considered the idea.
As difficult as the grief was, the idea of getting rid of it was far worse. The void that had been engulfing him would have only grown without his dreams of flying.
Saying that out loud, explaining that to Maria however, was impossible. How was he supposed to tell her that he was so reliant on the dreams, on the burning ache of mourning? How could he possibly explain to his family that without the longing to fly, he would fall? He was nothing without the desires that took over his every waking moment. Richard Parker wasn’t who he was. Living his life of repetition fueled to remind him that he wasn’t who he claimed to be, nor was he the person that memory and logic told him he was.
Grayson, Robin, Nightwing, those were his names.
If he were to speak those thoughts aloud, he ran the risk of losing his family. The family of which he adored, who loved him just as much. He couldn’t handle the thought of life without them. The only problem was, he couldn’t handle missing his mysterious other family either.
He sighed as he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. His life was perfect, he was grateful everyday for his loved ones, for a job that he cherished. So, why wasn’t he fulfilled?
Maria was still at Oscorp, she had to work overtime in order to finish a project before the due date. He had already put Peter to bed, done chores around the house, and called Ben. With nothing more to do to distract him from his racing thoughts, he settled into the bed, and allowed sleep to take him.
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“Nightwing! Nightwing, can you hear me?”
“Father, is he okay?”
“What the hell happened!?”
“Oracle, what’s going on?”
Voices swarmed him. There was no feeling, nor smell. Just the familiar voices and blurry vision. He was weightless, he was on the edge of nonexistent. He could make out a foggy night sky above him, and a shadowed figure checking his pulse.
“Who..?” his voice was far away, not quite his own.
“It’s me, it’s Batman. You’re okay, everything will be fine,” the figure hovered over him, providing reassurance with a stoic, yet comforting voice.
“I don’t…” Why didn’t he know who Batman was? The void that consumed him mourned The Bat, but no memories told him why.
“Robin, get the toxin antidote from the Batmobile,” the shadow ordered to a figure he couldn’t make out through the blur.
“Is Dick okay?” A different voice asked with unease seeping into his tone.
“He will be,” Batman answered.
Another, smaller yet demanding voice said something he couldn’t understand. The voices continued to engage, as the ringing in his ears drowned them out.
The blur of the scene faded into obscurity, even as he fought to remain.
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Richard jolted awake. His skin was sticky with sweat as his lungs burned from his panting. His heart was in his throat as he took in the room around him. He was home. He was safe. It was just another dream.
The dreams that plagued him were never anything like that, the usual dreams had always consisted of vague imagery with an ever present feeling of family, and familiarity, surrounding them.
This however, felt drastically different. The comfort of his family had still remained, but it was off. Something was very, very wrong.
“Just a nightmare,” he muttered with his face in his knees, trying to convince himself.
At this point, he had no clue whether he wished to be going insane, or to be correct in his instinct that the dreams held a great magnitude.
Would he rather be simply crazy, driven mad by nothing at all? Or, be a part of something far beyond his normal, civilized life?
A scream from across the hall grabbed his attention before he could continue down his spiral.
“Pete? What’s wrong?” Richard threw the covers off himself and sped to his son's room.
Entering the room, he was greeted by the five year old curled in his mountain of blankets as if it were a nest.
“Scary,” Peter mumbled, nearly incoherent in his cries.
Richard rushed to his side to comfort the boy. “What’s scary, bug?”
“I had a bad dream,” Ah. Well, at least he wasn’t alone in the sentiment that bad dreams sucked.
“Yeah? What was it about?”
“Monsters,” Peter hugged one of his stuffed dinosaurs.
“Mm, monster dreams are never fun,” Richard agreed, and pushed his son’s hair out of his face. “I had a bad dream too, y’know,”
“You did?” The boy sniffled.
“I did,” he nodded. “You just gotta remember that dreams aren’t fact. They’re just your mind playing tricks on you,”
“Why?”
“I do not have the qualifications to answer that unfortunately,”
“Boo,” Peter pouted.
“Boo indeed,” He agreed.
“Can we watch a movie?”
“We can always watch a movie,” He picked Peter up and made his way to the living room.
Richard could contemplate his own dreams later. For now, all that mattered was comforting his son.
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About an hour into the movie, the father and son had both fallen asleep on the couch. The television’s ambiance served as white noise as the two drifted off.
Although Richard hadn’t returned to the odd dream, the voices continued to echo through his mind.
“Dick, whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. The toxin is trying to trick you, it’s giving you the life it believes you want. Don’t give in, come back to us, Chum,”