Work Text:
dick is there when bruce names jason his newly minted "robin".
bruce didn't notice, neither did jason, lost in the novelty. dick stares at them for a few minutes, both still lost in their bubble. he wonders if he should make a noise, let them know he was there. tell them that his heart was being ripped from his costume. instead he slumps down the wall and stares numbly at the floor. mourning a legacy that was no longer his to continue.
he'll understand later, probably— why bruce did it. he understood most of bruce's mistakes, eventually. it's what made him the eldest, seeing the intent behind his father's wrongs. but this time, it didn't feel like a mistake, not to bruce certainly. not to todd either. maybe grayson was the one overreacting. maybe this wasn't about him at all.
he looks back at them, veins throbbing.
todd is running around with a smile on his face and stars in his eyes and suddenly dick curses his horrible mind and its selfishness to want to hoard the name, to preserve what was and to keep it despite abandoning it. to love it and to miss it.
but maybe this time, he was allowed to be selfish. maybe it was only ever meant to be his. not todd's. not batman's to hand out.
maybe dick grayson was still robin in his heart. maybe that's why it felt like it was being ripped through his ribs.
his eyes sting.
he thinks maybe todd sees him for a second, a brief glance. (he wonders what he sees, who he sees. dick grayson, nightwing or robin. past, present and legend. does todd think he can live up to grayson? does todd believe it?)
but nothing happens. and dick will pretend nothing did. if just to not have to entertain the hypothetical of what could have been. what could have happened if they saw him or if he got up and crawled to bruce's feet and let him look into his eyes and into his soul to see his inner war. would bruce care? (bruce loved him, he knew. but bruce loved the bigger picture more.) again dick will pretend he would.
but does dick even have a right to intervene? he does— probably. it— it wouldn't... maybe he's just amplifying the betrayal of this in his head, and it won't matter tomorrow.
he's losing pieces of himself, he notices sometimes. when he lost the fat in his cheeks and the full attention of bruce. maybe now, he's finally lost everything he once was. finally lost robin.
he thinks of his mother, beautiful and soft eyed, calling him her robin. giving him his name. his wings.
what would she think of him now?
he can gather what she might say. something understanding, hopeful, reassuring, perfect. dick can only hope to inherit her grace, her charm to spin words like silk and to always know what to do. he needs to think with the touch of his mother, his midas, to turn his heart into gold.
he's still on the floor. thinking.
he can hear laughter.
perhaps... perhaps, todd is his rebirth. not of nightwing, but of nine year old dick, hopeful and eager and ignorant, ready to fight for justice and make a change. maybe those parts of him he's lost with age could be replaced by a new robin. an entirely new vessel to replace his old parts.
but like the ship of theseus, if that were to happen, would it still be robin? would it still be little dick grayson in acrobatics spandex with a gap in his smile and fat in his cheeks?
somewhere over, jason hugs bruce and makes promises only a child could. big dreams, big plans, big heart. what dick once had. what dick should let pass. monopoly over what should be a beacon of hope was not what he was meant to aspire to hold. robin was a concept over a name to everyone but himself. a symbol. a protector. and far be it from dick to snatch that from anyone in his own conceited storm.
dick clenches his fists and pushes himself off the floor.
"hey now!" he calls, weaving himself from the margins into the portrait of their joy. "what's all this excitement about then?"
jason vibrates at his waist, dick turns his lax smile to him.
"i—" todd looks positively giddy. "i'm robin now! like you! i can be like you dickie!"
"really bud?" he laughs, combing his fingers through todd's hair and ruffling it. "well, aren't you progressing?"
dick steals a glance at bruce, his father's eyes are soft and open, living in this moment with his youngest son. as if sensing that dick is looking at him, his eyes flit over to meet dick's own. he smiles softly at him.
dick understands then that bruce doesn't realise what this title is for dick, what is has always and will always mean to him. the realisation momentarily angers him. bruce is an observant man, but an ignorant one too, old enough to have fought wars but young enough to struggle at fatherhood. at emotional intelligence. dick's fists clench but he came here with a conclusion. to keep the peace. that wasn't going to change.
jason has moved over to stare at the display case housing his costume, dick's second skin. a strange bitterness fills dick's mouth. it tastes like poison. he spits it out: "well, you're not gonna be as good as me, that's for sure." his tone is light and teasing. internally, he wonders how much he means those words.
"yeah 'course not. i'm gonna be better." jason says, face plastered to the glass display case, eyes reflecting the robin symbol. he speaks with the quiet confidence of unwavering belief. dick wants to support his faith.
"well, i hope you will be." he murmers. this, he knows he does mean wholeheartedly, for everyone's sake. jason looks up and smiles with all of his teeth and dick thinks he's making better choices.