Chapter Text
“He has no one to blame but himself”
Jason was pissed he had to deal with this. Again. Bruce had to give it up sooner or later, but sooner would be better so Jason could actually patrol and not run to his aid. He tapped his foot on the edge of the building he looked over Gotham on. He wondered which flying car the old man swung into. To be fair, Jason had also had quite a few collisions with those things since they came to the city.
“He’s on Park Avenue. Took a fall off a building.” Oracle radioed in. She sounded tired. Jason didn’t blame her.
“For the third time. Can he just get himself up and leave me be for tonight? I really wanted to shut my blinds and contemplate why I still run around in a biker helmet.”
“You know he can’t help it,” Babs reprimanded. “He’s getting old, whether he likes it or not. And I’m pretty sure the only reason he kept half of you was for you to puppet his body into throwing punches until he’s dust.”
Jason chuckled. “Fine. But next time send Damian. He doesn't get out much anyways.”
Jason found Bruce on the sidewalk, thankfully the street was deserted, saving him some embarrassment. It did not save him from Jason laughing at him for five straight minutes before getting him back up, or the incessant complaining he did all the way back to the batcave. Bruce still had a bit of a limp, so Jason helped him to his chair by the batcomputer. Ace the dog barked in delight upon seeing Bruce and ran over to lick his hand and curl up next to his feet. Dick, Tim, and Cass were already there, which worried Jason a bit. When Dick came to Gotham, he was usually back in Blüdhaven by this time of night. Cass was a busy woman, and usually didn’t stick around the city for more than a few days, she had been there a week. Tim… was visibly uncomfortable in the batcave, probably since he wasn’t used to the cold of the cave, being away from it for so long. Jason inched away from Bruce to approach Dick.
“Is this an intervention?” He whispered.
“Just go along with it, and you won’t have to pick him up off the streets anymore.” Dick whispered back. It sounded like a good exchange to him, so he stood back and let Dick take the wheel as Bruce spun his chair around dramatically to face them.
“I have an idea where this is going, and it’s going to take more than a few falls to get me off the streets.”
“Bruce, this is serious. We can’t risk you going out there and getting hurt, getting killed!” Dick pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re not in the shape you used to be. You have to know you can’t protect Gotham if you can’t protect yourself on a simple patrol.”
“I can protect Gotham just fine! I can still take the hits!” Bruce argued, then murmured “It’s getting back up, that's the hard part.”
He crossed his arms and scowled under the cowl, which he had not taken off, seemingly to prove a point. Cass kneeled down to the chair’s level and took Bruce’s hand.
“Dad, if you can’t get back up now, and you’re not properly resting, it’s only going to get worse. There are more than enough vigilantes in Gotham, Dick and I could even stay for a while while you adjust–”
“And I trust you all, I do.” Bruce squeezed her hand, and Cass squeezed back, just to let him know she was listening.
“But I can’t leave Gotham without a Batman. Batman is the embodiment of strength and resilience in this city. Taking that away would– it wouldn’t leave Gotham with a symbol as powerful.”
“...He’s got a point.” Tim agreed hesitantly. “But that’s just it, isn’t it? If that symbol of justice were to lose, in a much more public setting than an alleyway, would that really be any better?”
Bruce took a beat, then sighed. “I’ve lost plenty of times before.”
“But you always got back up.” A voice echoed from the entrance of the batcave. Damian, still in his doctor’s coat, stood with a first aid kit in hand at the doorway.
“If you can’t do that anymore, Gotham may as well not have a Batman. Not to mention you scare us all half to death every time you go out nowadays.” Damian didn’t ask for permission, or even where Bruce was hurt when he walked over and started inspecting his father’s wounded leg (not before petting the dog though, as is typical).
“I let Selena know as I was coming in, by the way. She said she hoped you fell on your head and that it knocked some sense into you.” He added as he rummaged through the first aid kit.
“The Real Housewives of Star City really do take priority over me.” Bruce said incredulously.
“She just knows you can take it. This time.” Jason remarked. “But what about next time, Bruce? You know there will be a next time. How many falls are you willing to risk before you can’t stand once you’re helped back up?” There was a harsh vocal fry on Jason’s words, and he unwillingly realized he was holding back tears. Gross.
Bruce was silent for a few moments, but it was quite a loud silence as the siblings waited for his next words.
“Alright. If Batman is such an important symbol to Gotham, and I can’t be Batman–” Bruce flung the cowl off his face. His gray hair, almost white now, and the crinkled lines around his face should have signified his old age, but his eyes glimmered brightly like he hadn’t aged since he first put the mask on. “--Which one of you is going to be?”
The cave dropped into a dead silence. Damian stopped prodding at Bruce’s injured leg and his gaze was suddenly glossy and far away, an expression Tim shared. Jason realized he had stopped breathing for a minute straight, and sharply inhaled. Cass finally let go of Bruce’s hand and stepped away to join her brothers. Ace let out a high pitched whine. Dick’s face was the only unreadable one. He stared coldly at Bruce for a long time before anyone spoke again.
“Well?” Bruce asked the room. He got nothing back. “Well, if none of you are going to do it, I guess I’m stuck with the job. What a shame.” He noted sarcastically.
Dick sighed, as if admitting he was defeated. He of all people knew the weight of being the dark knight was more than any of them could take. It would require one of them to completely uproot their life. Cass was capable, but she would be confined to Gotham. Damian was content with his healthcare position, and being a full time vigilante again would only make his life more chaotic. Dick and Jason were never an option to begin with. Tim had an expression as if his brain had crawled out of his head and run off to a far away planet. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue. After his accident, him ever going on the streets again was out of the question. “That’s settled, then.” Bruce smirked satisfactorily.
“If none of you want to take the job, I suppose I’ll retire when you find someone who can do it. Who wants to do it.”
Bruce chuckled at his own remark. His children didn’t find it funny. After all, to get what they wanted, Bruce had given them an impossible task to complete.
…
“This is such bullshit.” Terry murmured under his breath. He gave Miss Pinto the coldest glare he could muster, not really caring if she had heard him.
“I’m sorry, Mr McGinnis, but you were blacklisted from the wrestling team before your time away. There’s nothing I can do about it.” Terry took a huff through his nose. He technically did break an opponent’s nose once, alright, twice, and a collarbone, but he’d apologized for that! He crumpled his application form and started absentmindedly ripping it apart.
“Whatever. This team sucks anyways.” He began to storm off, but Miss Pinto called him back before he could take his fourth step. “There are still several clubs you can join! I think the Art Therapy club would–”
“Sorry Miss, but I’m gonna pass. I was pretty set on wrestling. I’d join a sport–” Terry stopped for a moment, hearing the oh so familiar cries of an innocent kid being shoved into a trash can at Hamilton high. “--I’m not much of a team player.” He ended his thought as he stormed off to investigate. Sure enough, Nelson Nash was caught at the scene of the crime, which let Terry know nothing had changed since he left. Terry only vaguely remembered Nelson’s victim, Howard Groote from the beginning of sophomore year, but it didn’t really matter who it was if they needed help. “Hey!” Terry shouted from down the hall.
“You've been watching too many bad movies while I’ve been away? You know people don’t actually shove people into trash cans in real life, right?” Howard was able to tip over the trash can and scurry away as Nelson slowly turned away from him to face Terry.
“McGinnis.” Nash growled excitedly. “Been a while since you’ve shown your face around here.” Terry picked up on Nelson’s hands curling into fists, and braced himself as he approached further.
“And you didn’t even have the courtesy to fix that stupid look on your face in all that time. Unless that’s just what you look like.” Terry very much enjoyed the shade of red Nelson’s face turned.
“You really hate it here, don’tcha? First you get a nine month vacation to juvie, then you beg me to put you in the hospital!”
“My bed in juvie’s probably still warm. If you’re gonna end up there anyway, you might as well be quick about it.”
Nelson wound up, but before he could hit, someone caught his arm and shoved it down.
“Get lost.” Was all she said, but Nelson just turned back, bewildered, and got out of there. She may have looked unassuming, being a head shorter of him, in a plain blue tank top, white pants and her black hair slicked back, but it didn't matter. No one ever said no to Dana Tan. Terry was one of the only people who knew if the rumors about her were true. The only difference between her and Terry is that she was able to cover her tracks. That, and she completely despised that part of her life now, and therefore probably hated Terry.
“It has been four days.” She glared at him.
“Four more than I expected to last, honestly.” Terry shrugged.
“God, Terry! You said you were gonna clean up your act. You promised.” A look of hurt crossed over her face, and Terry felt a pang of guilt right in his gut.
“Jeez, Dana! I wasn’t gonna fight back or anything, I just wanted to let a poor kid get away from Nelson! Then I wanted to see the stupid faces he pulls when he’s mad!” Dana grabbed him by the sleeve of his brown bomber jacket and began to drag him out of the school.
“Of all the stupid things! Going after Nelson Nash one your first day back in school! You insulant, uncaring, horrible excuse for a– do you need a ride home?” She switched subjects abruptly, not even switching her tone. Terry was caught off guard,
“...What?” was all he could get out.
“You stayed after school for wrestling sign ups, right? And you were surprised you were still blacklisted?” He groaned. He hated how well Dana could read him. “And you don’t have your license yet, so you probably need a ride home.”
“No thanks. I’ll just take the atrak home.” Terry was a bit surprised she’d even offered. He was pretty sure she hated his guts since they broke up. It made him feel a bit guilty for not keeping in touch with her until four days ago when he got out of juvie. It would make him feel even worse if he bothered her even more.
“You know what’s gonna happen on the atrak, Terry? You’re gonna get mugged. They’re crawling with those jokerz goons nowadays.” Terry was beginning to get a bit confused why she cared so much.
“I can take care of myself. Defending myself against a mugger won’t get me locked up.” Dana’s face scrunched up in a way that melted Terry’s heart a little and also let him know he’d said something wrong.
“Fine. Show me the shiner you’ll get tomorrow.” And with that, she stormed off. It turned out that whether he’d gone with her or not, Terry still felt worse.
…
Terry opted out of sitting on the atrak, also known as the subway to older passengers. In Gotham, it’s best to try not to touch anything that’s public. The train wasn’t his first option for transportation (the system had been considered outdated for ten years, and the trains never arrived on time) but it was better than bothering Dana more than he already had. The first few stops, Terry had nothing to but people watch to distract from the fact that he was T minus 30 minutes from another inevitable fight with his dad once he got home. There was a blonde woman popping gum and watching holograms on her phone who got off at the second stop. A man in his mid 30’s who must have been listening to heavy metal, since he was headbanging until he got off on the fourth stop. A slim guy who seemed to be late 40’s carrying grocery bags about half his size. Terry almost thought he would get to prove Dana wrong and make it home on public transport unscathed. Then, two stops before he was to get off, heavy boots stepped onto the train. There were few people left on the train. But most had their eyes glued to the floor when he stepped in. Terry was one of the few who didn’t take his eyes off the guy. The garish clown makeup, hair, and outfit told him all he needed to know, and he knew instantly Dana had been right. God, why did she always have to be right?
Sure enough, as soon as the doors closed and the atrak lifted off, the Jokerz looked around at the passengers to mark a target. He either didn’t notice Terry glaring at him or just didn’t care, because he instead set his size on the slim dude with the groceries.
“Ya got anythin’ interestin’ in there?” he approached the guy in a gruff, low voice.
“Groceries. Nothing too interesting.” The man was completely calm, which seemed to just aggravate the Jokerz even more.
“I can decide that for myself!” He grabbed the bag very suddenly, almost immediately the flimsy paper bag ripped apart and an assortment of food and toiletries spelled out, but just as quick, Terry got between them.
“Hey man, the hell do you think you’re doing? What’s your problem?” He was about a foot shorter than the Joker, but he still mustered up the strength to push him back. Terry realised very quickly that he did not plan far enough to know what to do now. Before he could even think fast, he got served a punch straight through the face. Why did Dana always have to be right? Suddenly, a swift kick to the gut brought the guy down, surprisingly, by the slim man Terry was supposed to be protecting. Out of the bag that wasn’t ripped to shreds on the floor came some spools of cables, and the man looked at it ashamedly for a second. “I think this was for my dad’s car, but I’m not really a car guy. But I’d say this is more important than a tune up.” He dropped his bag and lent an outstretched hand to Terry, who was sprawled out on the floor.
“You’ve got balls, kid. You wanna help me tie him up?” He scrambled to help, now slightly embarrassed he couldn’t hold his own against a petty thief. When the cables were tied tight enough to the stranger’s liking, and to the Jokerz’s dismay, he made a call to the GCPD while Terry started gathering his stuff strewn across the ground. When the call was done, the stranger joined him on the ground collecting his things.
“The police will be at the next stop for this guy. Thank you.”
Terry looked away. “Not like I did much.”
“Did you see anyone else even trying to help?” he asked. He motioned to the rest of the train. No one had taken their gaze from off the floor since the last stop.
“...I guess not.” The stranger smiled.
“That’s how you get started, then. Having that kind of empathy and courage. You don’t see that as much these days. So thank you.” When they had all the food and toiletries in a pile on the floor, the two realized they were pulling into the stranger’s stop and were bag short.
“Wait!” Terry exclaimed. He’s almost completely forgotten he had been at school thirty minutes ago, and had a mostly empty backpack. He quickly stuffed the groceries into his bag and slung it back over his shoulder.
“Is it alright if I tag along? I kinda need this bag when we’re done here.” The stranger seemed surprised, and a bit cautious.
“You really don’t have to–” before he could finish, the atrak’s doors had opened and Terry was already waiting for him on the other side.
“It’s no problem, really. Besides, I wasn’t very good at protecting you, I wanna make it up some other way. This is a good part of town, for Gotham, at least.” The stranger sighed as he stepped off the platform and walked with Terry to the escalator.
“I’m glad to know there are still teens out there who are as kind as you. I’m Dick Grayson, by the way.” The name sent off buzzers in Terry’s head, like he’d heard it before.
“Dick Grayson?” Terry repeated. Dick looked at the ground a little ashamedly.
“It’s an old school nickname that just never really went away.” He admitted. Terry suppressed a laugh as he shared his own name, but he couldn’t shake the idea that he knew that name from somewhere.
It turns out, Dick Grayson’s Pops didn’t just live in the good part of town, he lived in a GOOD part of town. As in he owned that entire part of town. It was now Terry realized where he knew Dick Grayson from; as in Dick “Blüdhaven’s Angel” Grayson. Not only a billionaire in his own right who invested most of his money into philanthropy for Gotham’s neighboring city, but the adopted son of billionaire shut-in Bruce Wayne. He realized this too late, it seems, as his jaw was on the concrete standing in front of the giant manor. Dick outstretched a hand and motioned Terry to give him the backpack.
“I’ll put this stuff in the kitchen, you can wait out here.” He suggested warmly. Terry obliged, handing over the backpack and watching him go inside through the huge manor doors. He peeked through the crack left in the door, and was astounded. There were pristinely ironed carpets, a chandelier, and a surprising amount of cat memorabilia. Terry looked around. He didn’t know how far in the kitchen was, but he figured a look around wouldn’t hurt. In and out, open and close the door quietly, and no one would ever know. He slowly creaked the door open, and looked around. The first thing that caught his eye was the giant family portrait. There were seven people in the picture, but Terry only recognized three of them. He recognized Dick Grayson, obviously, and faintly remembered the face of the younger of two women in the portrait, she was some sort of famous ballerina Dana liked. Terry realized he did not actually know what Bruce Wayne looked like, he famously hadn’t made a public appearance in at least ten years, but he could immediately pick him out. He had prominent sunken eyes and salt and pepper hair, and seemed to have both smile and frown lines. He sat up straighter than anyone in the portrait, and had the older woman’s head rested on his shoulder. He looked happier than Terry expected. It reminded him that he hadn’t even seen his own father look that happy in a long time.
Terry quickly shifted to looking around at the things under the portrait. There were a few shelves holding a myriad of trinkets on the left and a fireplace to the right. Just as he’d seen peeking through the door, there were quite a few cat statues on the mantle, one of them even encrusted in jewels. He stepped closer to look at it, but something else caught his eye. It may have been some kind of trophy, but it was worn and much less shiny than anything else in the room. It honestly looked more like a lever than a trophy. The impulsive thoughts got the better of him, and he tried to pick up the out-of-place trinket, but instead of lifting off the surface, it jerked forward. The wall itself seemed to lift off the ground at that, and Terry jumped back in surprise. What met him was a literal hole in the wall, a gaping door just inviting him in. He heard commotion behind him and turned around to see Dick staring at him, wide-eyed. Terry stared back for a moment, then made a very rash decision that he could already hear Dana reprimanding him for, and dashed into the entrance. The floor seemed to give out underneath him, because before he could think, he felt the sensation of falling. No, not falling–sliding. He was on a downward slide on what might be the scariest and most expensive playground ever. Alright, a billionaire having a slide into his basement, that can be rationalized. Billionaires are weird and eccentric, right? Maybe Terry just fell off the face of the earth and he’s hallucinating in his final moments. Yeah, one of those, probably. The slide sent Terry flying onto the hard stone floor, and he blinked rapidly to clear his vision, then a few more times to make sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing. A giant screen on the stone wall with a keyboard just as large. The walls of what he could now recognize as a cave lined with weapons and tools. And, most damnedly, glass cases holding several strange costumes that ranged from too bright to directly look at to so dark you’d need to squint to make sure it was there.
“Oh my God…” Terry uttered as Dick dropped down in front of him.
Terry had accidentally fallen into THE Batcave under Wayne Manor, and it didn’t take a genius to connect the dots.
Holy shit, Bruce Wayne is Batman.