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Random Wednesday Morning, New York City
Neal walks through the uneven pavement, slowly taking in the city noise early in the morning which is so different from the city noise that could be heard in Gotham. Peter sent him a text a while ago saying he couldn’t pick up Neal from June’s, so they’d agreed to meet in front of a nice coffee shop.
Oh and please get us some coffee from the place while waiting. Peter had texted. Neal unconsciously nodded and made his way to the shop when he felt his phone buzz once again, probably a follow up text from the FBI agent.
Heard some probie broke the coffee maker last night. Neal snorted, pocketed his phone, and walked through the now turned off streetlights.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a small boy in a complete set of a gray dri-fit shirt and jogger, drinking what he thinks is tea from a hot steaming paper cup. He looked like he just did fifteen laps or so around Central Park with that big wet stain on the back of the shirt. Kids nowadays still do that? Damn.
When he got a little bit closer, his eyes widened when the boy turned around and immediate recognition came in. He strode towards the young boy, careful around the cars when he finally crossed the street.
“Damian!” Neal approached him, unsure of the facial expression he’s making in front of the kid because why the hell is his little brother in New York City without him knowing?
“Hello, Richard. You didn’t mention that tea in this city is delectable.” Why isn’t he at least a bit surprised? Neal’s feeling frantic now, ushering Damian towards the nearest bench.
“What are you doing here? Are you all alone? Did you just take a few laps around a city you aren’t even familiar with?” Neal made a show of pointing out the sweat stains on the other’s shirt, brows furrowing further.
“Easy with the queries, and yes, I just did a few laps around New York City, then you come here interrupting my morning tea and quiet.” The boy huffed, sipping more tea from the cup. Neal’s growing frustration must've been felt by the kid because he turned towards Neal and started to speak.
“I’m with Todd and Drake, we were all sent by Father to attend a fundraising event by his late mother’s foundation.” Neal’s feeling overwhelmed by now, knowing his brothers are in the city where he’s supposed to hide from his family. Damian and Babs are the only ones who know about his whereabouts, where his home is, and basically his life now. It’s a long story, something about Bruce clashing with Dick because according to the old man, he only thinks for himself and all that stuff, causing him to flee Gotham and move to New York, having Babs make him a new alias and using it to get into the FBI as a confidential informant, just to do something for fun and to get his mind off of things.
He actually once thought about wearing the suit and the mask to be a vigilante here in New York, but never really got to think it through because of various factors, one of which is the tracking anklet which is the FBI’s protocol, and the thought of his family–or rather, Bruce–finding him. So yeah. He hasn’t been Nightwing in two years now. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t worked on cases sent by Babs in the middle of the night the past years.
Sometimes, he swings by in Gotham when Babs needs him to fight the bad guys she’d discovered from her research. He’d never spend the night in the city, though. He always comes back to New York before the software Babs had put into his tracking anklet comes off and alerts the marshals that he’s way past his given radius.
Communication with Damian is difficult, on the other hand. They both have burner phones that Dick got them both, but still, it’s hard to get ahold of each other when one has online school in the morning and patrol at night and the other has an 8-5 job that sometimes extends due to stakeouts in the van and cases that couldn’t be solved.
He could count in his hands how many times he gets to meet and hang out with Damian in a year. Including his own birthday. Not the kid’s birthday, though. They’ve talked about this before, about Damian leaving the manor on his birthday and the suspiciousness that comes with it.
It makes Dick a bit sad, knowing he can’t be there on his little brother’s special day. But they’ve been doing this for two years, two birthdays, so he knows they’re gonna be just fine.
“I– Where are Jason and Tim? Where are you guys staying?” Damian was cut off by a car honking in front of the bench.
“Morning, Neal. I remember telling you to get us coffee and not make friends with a random kid. Good morning to you, too, kiddo.” Peter waved at the kid through the lowered window, then sending Neal an exasperated glare. There’s a hint of fondness in it, though. Neal stood up and walked to the car, ducking a little to tell Peter something.
“Peter, could you please give me five more minutes? I’ll just finish this conversation with him, okay?”
“Conversation with who?” Peter nodded towards the bench they were just once occupying. Neal turned around and saw nothing but a half-empty cup of tea. Peter could see the frustration dancing in Neal’s eyes and the exasperated sigh he let out. The agent considered asking but he knows his CI will eventually talk to him about it. There’s something more about this kid.
“Come on, hop in. Let’s grab some coffee before going to work.” Neal listened and exaggeratingly slumped in the passenger seat. Peter chuckled a little, amused by his CI’s behavior.
“Good night, Neal.”
“Night night, Peter. Please tell me you’re picking me up tomorrow?” Neal got out of the car and leaned on the car door.
Peter sheepishly smiled, narrowing his eyes in a teasing way in which he received a frown from the younger man. “Be good and stay there all night, we’ll see.” Neal grinned, finally standing up and headed towards the front door, raising his hand for a wave without looking back. He only heard the older man’s car pull up when he was finally inside, making his way upstairs to his loft.
Instead of heading towards the bathroom for a shower or towards the balcony to admire the city for a bit, maybe with a glass of wine (he’s starting to like wines now), he immediately went to the shelves and looked for the book that keeps his burner phone inside.
Upon finding it, he dialed the only contact saved in the phone which is Damian’s. He was on his third try to contact Damian when the kid finally answered.
“N? Is everything alright?” A voice from the other line asked. Dick took a seat on the couch and leaned back, thinking of where to start.
“I’m fine, D. Where are you right now? Are you somewhere safe? I mean, if you need a place to stay, my door’s open. Or June’s. Whatever. Hey, you still there?” Dick frowned a little, confused by the lack of response from Damian.
“Still here. I apologize, I had to sneak out to get back to my room to speak freely.” Dick let out a sigh of relief, then got back to questioning the kid. “Where are you? And please don’t tell me I can’t know because I won’t accep–”
“Take a deep breath, you old man, I’m safe! We’re staying the night at a hotel, I’ll text you the address.” Dick hummed, now half-lying on the couch.
“Is the event tomorrow?”
“Yes. At six o’clock in the evening. We will go back to the hotel after an hour or two. Hood, Red R, and I have talked about it. We have a case to work on that Father assigned us to.”
“Wow. That’s cool, D,” Dick paused, hesitating whether to ask the question or not. “So, will I see you again tomorrow? What you did this morning was unacceptable, y’know,” Dick’s voice softened, feeling hopeful about hanging out with the boy again even just for a short time.
“I can’t give you an answer at the moment, I’m sorry. But I’ll see what I can do to finish the case as early as possible.” Dick smiled sadly, already half-expecting the answer. “Alright. Good luck tomorrow, Little D. If you ever need any help, I’m here, okay?” Dick stood up and went towards the closet to grab a fresh pair of pajamas.
“I know. See you around, N.”
Dick tossed the phone on the couch and headed for the bathroom.
The Next Morning, New York City
“New day, new cases to work onto.” Peter said with a smile of a responsible FBI agent as they both got out of the car. Neal groaned, tailing Peter into the building like a duckling following his parent.
“Diana actually showed me the case file yesterday, told her we’ll be working on it this morning after closing our recent case last night.” Peter pressed the buttons on the elevator once they got in. “Oh really? What’s it about?” Neal groggily asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. The other didn’t seem to notice though, as he continued on telling the theories he’d come up with upon reading the case file yesterday.
“It's an embezzlement case, again. Someone’s using the money of a company that doesn’t even belong to them and uses it to donate to fundraisers anonymously. It’s actually crazy to think about. Why donate anonymously if the intention is making a name for yourself? I think this particular someone has good intentions.” Neal walked out of the elevator first and opened the door for the both of them.
“Or, this someone gets something in exchange that isn’t about fame or reputation.” Neal followed Peter into his office to get a read on the case. He almost dropped the file when he saw a familiar logo of a company. He glanced back at Peter as the man sat on his chair.
“What’s wrong with the Waynes? Are they in trouble?” Neal tried very hard to mask the worry in his voice but seeing Peter’s reaction, he might’ve slipped a little.
“There’s actually nothing wrong with them. It’s just that the suspect might come to WE’s fundraising event tonight. We studied the past anonymous bank transfers and it always happens the day after the event.” Neal shifted a little bit closer, leaning onto the agent’s desk.
“Are you saying we have to go undercover tonight?” Peter pursed his lips and studied the younger’s face.
“We do. We’re trying to get in contact with the CEO himself, though. Just so he would know we’re on duty.” That sent Neal spiraling. He was seconds away from screaming What? to Peter but was able to hold back to maintain his cover.
“Oh, that’s good. Aliases?” He stood straight, trying to regain composure. Peter’s brows furrowed and looked at Neal straight in the eyes while he blindly looked for the folder containing their aliases.
“I’m gonna be Peter Richards, a businessman from the West Coast wanting to donate some of his money to WE’s welfare programs. You’ll act as my son, John Richards, who aims to get into WE for an internship. You might want to shave your face clean so you could look younger.” And that sent Neal spiraling. He wasn’t able to reply to Peter in a matter of seconds. How could anyone? He’s literally going undercover to a fundraising event by his adopted father under an alias which highly resembles his real name.
“You alright? You don’t seem so hyped about it. Thought you liked the Waynes?” Peter stood up, walked towards the door down the bullpen to join a phone call Diana had made to Bruce Wayne.
“I never said I did. And really? John Richards? Sounds like an old man who owns a fishing dock by the lake.” Neal followed him around, wanting to at least make a bit of a change on his undercover name.
“What’s wrong with an old man who owns a fishing dock by the lake?” Peter sent a look to Neal and held up his index finger to shush the younger man. He nodded at Diana and grabbed the phone from her hand.
“What’s your cover?” Diana asked and smirked at him. Neal sighed.
“John Richards. Shut up. I know it’s lame.” Diana snickered and went back combing through loads and loads of cases on her desk.
Neal looked at Peter and saw that the conversation he’s having is taking a lot longer than he was expecting. He went back to his desk and tried to calm himself down by working on a case he hasn’t solved since yesterday.
WE’s Fundraising Event, New York City
“Here we are. Nothing reckless, Neal. I’m counting on you.” Peter stood beside him, looking elegant in his black suit. Neal, beside him, is wearing a navy blue three piece suit. His cufflinks were a mess due to the lack of time of preparation because after closing a fraud case just a while ago, they were immediately sent to the event by Hughes.
Peter let out a sigh and reached out to fix the younger’s cufflinks.
“Oh God, you are such a dad.” The agent scoffed, finally letting go after fixing the cufflinks. “Well, technically, I am your father for the night.” Neal chuckled, following Peter inside despite the heavy feeling in his stomach. He wasn’t able to formulate a plan on how to speak to his brothers if they ever saw him.
He’s got no problems with anyone except his brothers recognizing him because he knows the public won’t. He hasn’t shown up publicly as Bruce Wayne’s oldest son since he was ten. And now he’s twenty-four. Too much time has passed for people to recognize him now.
“Alright. Jones said our suspect’s a guy, around 5’10, dark hair. No age estimates, though. It was hard to determine from the bank’s security cams.”
“This is gonna be harder than I thought.” Neal took a sip from his champagne, furrowing his brows from the taste. “God, I will never like champagne.”
“Here. Some wine.” Peter passed him the wine glass and looked over the crowd. All the big names are here, for sure it would be easier to determine that an FBI agent and his CI do not belong here.
“That’s better. This is good. What is this?”
“Do I look like I know?” Peter shook his head and turned to the staircase, where three boys were going down, all in black and polished suits, most likely the sons of Bruce Wayne.
“I am not sure but I think those kids up there are Wayne’s sons. Diana and Jones briefed me about them a while ago. Said they’re representing their father.” The agent nodded his head towards the boys’ direction, wanting Neal to take a look at them.
“We’re going to have a little conversation with them. Wayne wanted his sons to personally meet us, the undercover FBI agents in his own event. For their safety, I suppose.” Neal almost snorted at that, his brothers could perfectly defend themselves against any harm thrown at them.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Damian leaving the group first and walking straight towards them, passing through all the visitors wanting to have a small chat with the boys. Neal panicked, turned to look at Peter and mumbled something about going to the restroom.
Peter wasn’t able to do anything but nod because all of a sudden, two of Bruce Wayne’s sons are in front of him with all their stoic faces and stiff postures. He cleared his throat and introduced himself.
“Good evening to the both of you. I’m Peter Richards–”
“Cut the crap, what’s the job?” The taller one cut him off, raising his eyebrow and looking at Peter straight in the eye. Despite having the same height as the man, Peter couldn’t help but feel smaller from the man’s piercing gaze. The faded scars and eyebrow cut are definitely not helping.
The man in front of him was elbowed by the kid beside him, glancing up at his brother with all his might.
“Jason. Manners.” The kid hissed at his brother then turned to look at Peter. “Agent Burke, right? Bruce told me about you,” the boy whispered, leaning a little bit closer. He ushered the three of them into a more secluded space where they could freely talk without prying ears.
“I’m Timothy Drake, but Tim would be fine.” He nudged his older brother who obviously has no interest in meeting him.
“As the kid said, I’m Jason. So what’s the job? Where’s the other one?” Jason looked around, looking for another suit-looking man near Peter.
“Went to the restroom. Anyway, the job tonight is nothing serious. We just have to identify the suspect so we could make the arrest tomorrow.” Tim nodded while Jason hummed. They all talked about the suspect for a bit, the brothers momentarily looking at each other at every detail about the suspect Peter shares.
Dick was hiding in a cubicle, trying to control his breathing. He wasn’t prepared to meet his brothers again after two full years of no communication with them. His thinking was cut off by a whistle not so far away from the cubicle he’s in. The Robin whistle.
He immediately went out and walked towards the other end of the restroom.
“Damian?” He whispered. The cubicle door suddenly opened.
“Richard, what the hell are you doing here?” Damian crossed his arms, impatiently stomping his right foot. Dick stepped a little closer, shushing him.
“I’m here as John Richards–”
“That’s ridiculous. Why would you make an alias based on your name?” Damian tilted his head, waiting for answers. That’s one of the things Bruce taught them. Never make an alias close to your real name.
“Listen to me! I’m here on duty as Neal Caffrey, we’re undercover. Suspect identification and all that stuff. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to tell you I’m going to this event, too much work in the office.” Dick lowered himself a bit, putting a hand on the kid’s left shoulder.
“What would you do if they saw you?”
“I… I honestly don’t know. Maybe ask them to not tell B I’m here?” Dick stood straight, ushering them both towards the restroom exit. “You do know Todd won’t listen to you, right?”
“No harm in trying, Little D. Now go. Fire exit on the right side at 8 o’clock, okay?” Damian nodded and walked outside the restroom. It took a while for Dick to regain his composure and walk back outside like nothing happened, looking for his handler.
“What took you so long?” Peter asked, ushering him to move towards the center of the open area, hoping to finally find a potential suspect. “Nothing. Long lines, y’know? Mission progress?”
“So far I’ve spotted two guys that fit the description. They’re both on the left side by the windows. Nothing suspicious, though.”
“Hey, are guests allowed up there?” Neal looked at the guy on the second floor, obviously looking for something. Peter huffed and immediately ran up the stairs, Neal tailing him.
“Wait, we can’t ruin our cover. We’re not sure about this guy yet. Stay here.” Before Peter could say something, Neal left the agent’s side and walked towards the guy.
Neal spotted a restroom by the end of the hall and immediately had a plan. He patted his coat’s right pocket to feel the bug device he still has from all the gadgets he hasn’t used yet as Nightwing.
He hastily walked towards the guy and bumped into his side. “Oh, I’m sorry! Couldn’t hold it in anymore. My dad told me there’s a vacant restroom here.” Neal then walked inside the restroom. It took a while again for the guy to find what he was looking for.
Peter carefully peeked behind the huge pillar by the staircase. “Looking for a room and found it, huh.” He muttered as he caught a glance of the door before it fully closed. He then followed Neal into the restroom where he found his CI listening to something on his phone, which is clearly not the bureau lent him.
“Neal, what are you doing?” Peter stood beside the man who’s hunched over the sink.
“Dropped a bug. Now shush.” Peter’s eyes widened while Neal remained unbothered, still listening to the voices talking over the phone.
“What?! Dropped a bug? I did not authorize you to do that– and you don’t get to shush me!”
“I’ll transfer the money tomorrow morning after the event. Just make sure of that seat you promised me in your next score.” Peter stopped talking, now suddenly focused on his CI’s phone. They listened until the conversation finished, both very focused and taking in every detail they heard.
Neal pocketed his phone, wearing his victory grin with his raised eyebrows. The agent sighed fondly.
“Good work as always, Neal. I won’t even ask why you have a different phone from the one the FBI gave you. Let’s go and call it a night.” Peter pushed Neal to the exit by his shoulders, quietly relieved that tonight’s mission was successful. Now they just have to make the arrest on the spot tomorrow.
“Wait, how about the bug? He’ll know he was bugged!” Peter stopped abruptly, turning Neal around. “Don’t worry, the bug will self-destruct. Oh, and Peter? Can you give me 10 minutes outside? I just have to talk to someone.”
Peter raised his eyebrow, because 1) Where did Neal get his bug from? The FBI doesn’t have self-destructing bugs yet. And 2) Who’s Neal going to talk to? There are so many questions running around his mind that he didn’t notice his CI walking away from him with a grin and a wave.
“See you in ten!” He shouted.
Dick peeked through the fire exit door, carefully looking for any unwanted presence. “Little D?” He walked around the empty space, looking for a little shadow that could be his brother.
“Little D, huh? So all this time you’ve been in New York fucking City.” A tall shadow appeared from behind the crates, which Dick wasn’t expecting.
“Jay....” Dick flinched when Jason towered over him. From the corner of his eye, he saw another shadow emerging, which he assumed was Tim's.
“Don't call me that. Why the fuck did you show up here as if nothing happened?” Jason gripped Dick’s shoulders, the suit under the taller’s hands creasing.
“Todd, stop it!” A little figure stood between them and weakly shoved Jason away.
“You fuckin’ traitors.” From there on, a fight emerged. Jason trying to beat Dick up, Dick trying to protect himself, Damian trying to stop Jason, and Tim standing on the side, mind clouded by his own emotions.
“So fucking nice of you,” A punch to his face.
“To finally show your goddamn face,” A punch to his left rib.
“To your so-called family,” A punch to his gut.
“After two fucking years of nothing from you!” Then he was back punching Dick’s face.
“Stop. I said stop it!” Jason’s fist stopped mid-air from hitting Dick’s face which is now covered in small cuts. Jason’s pulling his punches, he thought. Tim’s voice made them all halt, all of them turning to the boy.
“Dick. Why?” Dick stood up, fed up with both Tim and Jason. He didn’t say anything though. Why would he? The both of them refused to listen to whatever he had to say when they all thought Bruce was dead and he had to put on the cowl. So why would he speak knowing that they won’t listen?
He wiped his own blood from his eyebrow down to his left cheek and went towards Damian. “Sorry… just call me later.” He rasped and cleared his throat. Before he could get out the door, Tim grabbed him from the back and slammed his body onto the wall beside them.
“Man up, Dick! Don’t be a coward and talk.” Tim grabbed his collar, establishing dominance. Dick could do nothing but to breathe. He’s so tired. Tired of his life. His brothers. His family.
He once thought he was the one that’ll always fix every problem this family has. Turns out, he was actually one of the reasons why it’s falling apart.
“Fucking hell. Say something!”
Say something? What do you want me to say? I’m sorry?
I’ve apologized a hundred times yet all I receive from you are your turned backs.
What? What more do you want me to say?
“What the fuck do you want to hear from me? That I’m sorry? Well, for the last time, I am so sorry. I am so sorry I was a fucking coward and didn’t want to help you find B. I am so sorry I was so scared to see another corpse of my father. I’m sorry for being a coward. For not being a better brother for all of you. Especially you, Tim. I’m sorry.” Silence.
Damian rarely showed emotions in front of other people, he could only be vulnerable in front of Dick. But tonight, his eyes were shining, unaware of everything that was happening in his family despite being in the manor every day.
“Dick….”
“Please, please don’t speak.”
“I….” Tim let go of his brother’s collar, stepping back.
“It’s okay. It’s really okay. I’m used to it. The silence, the ignorance, those petty remarks. It’s all fine. I understand. You wanted a father, you wanted B, you wanted to find him. But at the time I didn’t. I didn’t want to hope and be broken again. So it’s fine. I’m sorry.” Damian took a step towards him, thinking of the next possible thing he could do for his big brother.
Dick stood straight from where he was slumped on the floor and attempted to fix his suit and tie with all the remaining strength he had. God, where’s Peter?
“Dami, later.” He whispered and opened the door. From across the empty hallway, there stood Peter, worried etched into his face.
“Neal! What happened to you?” The agent ran towards him, immediately catching his body from falling.
“I’ve got you, kiddo. It’s okay.” Dick cried. He cried and he cried until his body gave up. It’s okay, Peter’s here. He won’t let anything bad happen to him.
“God, Neal. Where are you hurt?” Dick could do nothing but cry. That’s not even his real name. He was once again reminded that he was lying to Peter. He was lying to someone who considers him as family, even though he didn’t deserve it.
“I’m sorry, Peter.” Dick repeated like a mantra against his handler’s shoulder. Gripping his back like a kid never wanting to leave his father’s arms.
“You’re fine, kid. I’m here. I’ve got you. There we go.” Peter whispered into his hair, constantly rubbing his back in an up and down motion.
The door his CI had just come from was left ajar, letting him see what’s inside. Three figures moving towards the other exit, shoulders slumped, tension high. He recognized those backs. Those were the sons of Wayne.
Peter stopped himself from sighing, mind immediately going to the thought of his CI pulling a con on the Waynes. If that were the case, Neal wouldn’t be sobbing and shaking in his arms right now. He thinks this is something deeper.
This is different. This has emotions.
When Dick has finally calmed down, he shakily stood up on his own, his hands finding purchase on the wall behind them.
“Sorry you had to see that.” He rubbed at his own face, brushing a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix them.
“No. Don’t ever apologize for that, Neal.” Peter took him by the shoulders and went for a quick yet tight hug that Dick didn’t know he needed until it was given to him.
“You good to go?” Dick nodded and walked beside Peter to the car, grateful for the man’s silence and understanding. Tomorrow’s gonna be a hell of interrogation from the agent, though. He would like to know what happened that got his CI breaking down, of course.
Once they got in the car, Dick rested his head on the seat’s headrest and let out a sigh of relief.
“I assume you’re taking me into your house for the night. Will insist on me staying over. I know, Peter.” The agent chuckled and pulled away from the parking lot.
“You can’t blame me for being worried. You’ve got cuts on your face, kid. Now go take a nap. I’ll wake you up once we get home.” Home. Dick’s never had that in a long time.
Dick closed his eyes, letting the faint sound of the radio and Peter’s gentle drumming on the steering wheel lull him to sleep.
“Sleep now, kiddo. You’re taking the day off tomorrow.” After treating his wounds, the Burkes went and tucked him into the guest bedroom, which he now often uses whenever he comes over. Dick wanted to protest that he didn’t need to take the day off, but he knows it’s no use when you’re going against the Burkes.
“Good night, sweetie.” El’s voice came through. It was the last thing he heard as he slowly drifted to sleep.
It’s okay. He’s going to be fine. He still has Damian and Babs. Peter and El, Diana and Jones. He’ll be okay.