Chapter Text
“Robin?”
He ducked behind a stack of pallets, heart thundering madly in his throat. The wood dug into his back, catching on the yellow cape wrapped around his neck. He didn’t answer, even though that was him, HE was Robin, because only his mom called him that, and this creature was definitely not---
A looming shadow peeked down the alleyway, blocking out the light from the street. Dick made the brash decision to lunge instead of staying put, following his instincts to climb up, up, up, away, OUT.
“Wait,” the shadow barked, harsh and grating and annoyingly demanding, but Dick was triumphantly nearing the top. He grabbed for handhold after handhold, hauling himself an’ his numb leg up the wall to a broken fire escape, a ledge, a windowsill, and then the roof--- Rolling over the edge with a daring grin flung at the ground below. Ha.
The shadow raised its arm… and SHOT at him. He startled back, falling on his butt, as a metal claw exploded right up past his face. Fear, the kind he had been shoving back under I can do it I can do it I can do it, flooded his whole chest.
This was not just a random kidnapper.
“What did they want from us, Mom?”
“Don’t you worry about it, Dickie… I’ve taken care of them for now.” Her hands fussed with his curls, something they always did when she was nervous. “They should NOT have come to see us here at the trailer, and certainly not at this time of night--- did they scare you?”
Dick thought about lying to her, he really did. He wanted to ease those worry lines across her face. In the end, it was easier to give in, to nod, to soak up the comforting smile she always gave him.
“Those men won’t bother us again,” she said ominously, cupping her calloused fingers around his cheeks. “Their organization might. Listen to me, Dickie--- listen. If you see a man in a mask with pointy ears, a man with talons, you don’t worry about us; you run the other way.”
“Mom?”
“You RUN, Dickie. RUN.”
Dick somersaulted to his feet as the shadow with pointy ears, the shadow with metal talons, reached the edge of the roof. He booked it, ignoring the pain shooting through his leg in favor of speed. He judged the distance between rooftops, sprinted, LEAPED--- and crashed into a clothesline with a yelp.
“What are you DOING?” that same voice called, sterner now, younger, and he glanced back--- the shadow was still on his heels, jumping after him, wings flaring---
Freakin’ WINGS???
He rolled away, throwing a pink bra at his potential kidnapper’s face. “Leave me alone!!!”
“You’re HURT, Robin; this is no time for games---” The shadow plucked the clothing from its pointy ear, raising its wing to shield itself as Dick threw a handful of gravel next.
“Stop.”
Shoot, Dick had a belt on--- could he throw that? Oh, something pointy--- He flicked it out at once, following muscle memory, and flung it behind him without looking back. A grunt, a stagger, a few extra seconds he’d bought himself--- He eyed another big gap, running, and LEAPED---
Someone grabbed him, wrapping around his wrist like iron, and he screeched as gravity yanked his body to a swinging stop. He kicked immediately, scrabbling at the huge hand clutched around his arm. “Let GO of me!!!”
“Stop,” the shadow hissed, white eyes narrowed in annoyance. It pivoted, holding him over the roof instead of the alleyway now, but it didn’t let him go--- His swinging toes couldn’t reach the ground. “What are you DOING? Robin--- report.”
Dickie opened his mouth immediately, choking on the words my leg hurts, my head hurts, my heart hurts, I don’t know where I am. Why was THAT his first reaction? What had they done to him?! “I want my mom!!! What did you do to her, you freak?!”
The shadow suddenly became very, veeeeeery still. Dickie wriggled experimentally, trying to slip his hand out of the creature’s grip, but no dice--- If anything, the hold only tightened. He curled his legs up, wrapping them around that huge muscly arm, and used his free hand to pry at the dude’s fingers. (His heartbeat was calming down--- WHY was his heartbeat calming down?! Mom had told him to RUN, he should have been AFRAID---)
“Robin,” the shadow rumbled, suddenly much quieter now. “Tell me what you remember.”
Dick peeked at the shadow’s face, eyes narrowed. Someone’s underwear was still dangling from the back of one pointy ear, and he wanted so badly to snort, but he swallowed it down in defiance. “Stop CALLING me that, okay? That’s just my special name, only Mom can call me that--- Let GOOO.”
The shadow tilted its head to the side. The underwear fell. “I want to show you something. If I set you down, will you stay?”
“Yes,” Dick lied immediately.
The shadow sighed for some freakin’ reason. It set him down… and held on. Dick lunged as soon as his feet had traction, tugging, but he’d sooner rip his own hand off---
“Stop… stop.” The shadow hauled him closer with a grip on his belt, sounding exasperated. “You’re going to dislocate your shoulder again.”
“Again?” Dick hit the guy’s head with the side of his fist, experimental, but the shadow didn’t even flinch. “What do you WANT?”
“Look… just look.” The shadow yanked off its glove without letting go--- A regular glove, Dick finally noticed; no talons in sight--- and pulled down his sleeve, turning his pale skin against the moonlight. Dick stopped struggling as a colorful mark revealed itself on the man’s inner wrist--- A red and green and yellow bird mid-flight.
The shadow finally released him. Dick took a few stumbling steps back, yanking off his own green glove, and peered at his wrist. They were exactly the same. “My… my best friend mark.”
“Yes.” The man held out his hand, open. “It’s been colored in for two years.”
Dick inched closer, cautious of being grabbed again, and pressed his inner wrist against the man’s. Large fingers wrapped loosely around his arm this time, just holding, and as the soulmarks touched, Dick could feel his whole body warming up.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered, tension uncoiling from his spine. “When did it light up, when did… When did we MEET?”
Those blank white eyes drilled into him, but Dick could see the man’s mouth now, and something… something sad pulled at its corners. “This mark lit up the same night… your parents’ dimmed.”
Dick’s breath hitched. He pulled away, yanking at his tunic, his stupid cape--- There, over his heart; his dad’s mark. Shriveled. Formless. Blotted out like a spot of ash.
He raised his bare hand, shaky, to comb through the curls at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t FEEL it, not really, but he instinctively knew it was there--- His mother’s mark, gone now. Cold dread pooled in his gut; warm tears carved blazing trails down his chilly face, and he couldn’t… he couldn’t breathe. “Why? WHY?”
The shadow reached up to its face… and pulled down its mask. Ruffled black hair and startling blue eyes and matching tears, grief so deep Dick felt like he was looking in a mirror, met his gaze. “I don’t know.”
Dick followed the tug of his body, his body that knew what to do, caving into waiting arms with a broken sob that strained every rib. “I don’t remember.”
“You hit your head tonight.” The man’s touch ghosted over his eyebrow, dabbing at sticky blood he hadn’t even noticed was there. “You’ll remember later. I promise you’ll remember.”
Dick pressed his face against hard armor, into darkness that felt so familiar somehow, and shook. He didn’t want to believe it--- What if this was just a trap?--- but the numbness of his parents’ marks told him the truth. “What if I don’ wanna remember?”
“Oh… chum…” The man sighed, quiet sadness brushing through Dick’s curls. He wrapped one hand around Dick’s nape, covering his mother’s soulmark, and one around to his heart over his dad’s. “I wish it was that simple.”
Dick let himself be held, sniffling back the tears he was sure he’d cried already, and waited for the terrifying ache in his throat to subside. When the pain in his throbbing head was greater than the pain in his heart, he croaked, “How’d I get t’be best friends with you? You’re OLD.”
The man lifted from the knees, chuckling silently. Dick decided to ignore the wet drops landing in his hair, wrapping his legs instead around the man’s belt. It felt unnervingly natural to be carried. “I’m not THAT old. I’m only twenty-four.”
“OLLLLLLLLD,” Dick groaned into a cape that smelled like gym mats and city air and something else, something suspiciously like home. “That’s, like, a fully grown adult.”
“Fully grown adults know what they’re doing,” the man countered, grunting as he tugged at something. “I’m going to lower us down, alright? Keep your mask on until we get to the car.”
Dick pressed his fingers to his face, blinking. Oh… That was why most of his tears were getting in his eyes instead of flowing down his face. “What are we, crooks or something?”
“Something.” The man hugged him tighter, stepping over the ledge… and dropping in slow-motion towards the ground. “I’m going to fix this, chum--- you can trust me.”
Dick’s lip trembled. He couldn’t name the emotions kicking up a storm in his chest, the tight ache, the deflecting humor, but he could name the truth. His body told him so. “I know.”
“Hn. You might have a bruise tomorrow morning. Around your wrist, I mean. I apologize; I didn’t want to sedate you.”
“Oh… that’s okay. I think I got you with a throwing star or something.”
“Yes, my leg--- Very good shot, by the way.”
“Really? Thanks. How come I have so many of ‘em, anyway?”
“They’re called batarangs.”
“Batarangs? Whose bright idea was THAT---”