Chapter Text
Bruce is awake, Bruce is awake, and staring at Dick with a look of ice.
That’s the thing; Bruce’s anger wasn’t hot. It couldn’t be compared to a volcano, but an iceberg. Cold, hard, and ran far deeper than Bruce would allow you to see. His outbursts were dagger sharp shards, so cold it burned.
Dick was all heat, flames that flicker, never still. Licking out if you got too close, destructive and wild. But it could burn out as fast as it flared up and rarely had Dick’s heat melted Bruce’s ice.
In this moment, Dick could find none of that heat, the cold is too sharp, too vast for Dick to make a spark.
He just needs to get Tim out of harm's way.
“Dick what-” Bruce's raspy voice, rough from nearly nine months god has it been that long? of disuse, is cut off by hacking coughs.
That sparks Dick into action, picking up Tim and handing him to Babs. “Take him upstairs and call Dr. Tompkins.”
“Dad-” Tim starts to protest, but Babs shushes him, leaving the infirmary as Dick grabs Bruce a glass of water.
“Drink it slowly.” Dick instructs, holding the glass so he can pull it away if needed.
Bruce does as instructed, taking slow measured sips.
“Dick,” Bruce tries again. “What is going on?”
“We should let Dr. Tomkins take a look at you before we talk.” Dick dodges the question.
He doesn’t want this to dissolve into the inevitable fight until after he’s sure Bruce is as healthy as he can be.
“Bruce!” Alfred bursts into the med bay, stopping when he sees Bruce. “My boy, you’re finally awake.”
“Alfred I-” Bruce blinks as if holding back tears. “How long have I been out?”
“What do you last remember?” Alfred asks, going to Bruce's side and taking his hand.
“It was August.” Bruce states. “I don’t remember the exact date, I want-”
Bruce stumbles, causing Dick to cringe internally, it was close to Jason’s birthday.
“It was after- It was around the twentieth.” Bruce settles on. “I was tracking down a man, he had fear toxin and was going to dispense it-”
His eyes widen. “What happened to Lukas Harris?”
“We stopped him.” Dick assures him. “He’s in Blackgate now.”
“What hap-”
Bruce is cut off as Dr. Thompkins enters the med bay. “You’re actually awake.”
“Doctor.” Bruce greets.
“I need to check you over.” She tells him. “Then we’ll go over what your recovery is going to look like.”
Bruce nods, glancing over at Dick, the conversation wasn’t done just on hold, something Dick is grateful for. He hasn’t really considered what Bruce waking up would look like, or how to explain what has happened since Bruce's fall.
Dr. Tompkins leaves, giving Bruce about as clear a bill of health that he could get in this situation. Follow up appointments are made, along with appointments for physiotherapy, so Bruce could begin regaining the muscle he’d lost. She leaves Dick and Alfred with instructions for monitoring Bruce, strict instructions to call her if he were to begin to deteriorate.
Then it’s just Dick, Alfred, and Bruce. Who looks at them with an expectant look.
“What happened after I fell?” Bruce asks, voice weak, likely growing tired from all the use.
“When you fell.” Alfred takes the lead. “Master Dick happened to be in Gotham.”
Bruce’s brow furrows. “I didn’t know that.”
“It was just a bust of a small drug running operation.” Dick brushes it off, not wanting to admit that he’d hidden his presence from Bruce. He still feels guilty for that. “I wasn’t going to be in Gotham for more than a few hours.”
There’s still a flash of hurt in Bruce’s eyes.
“Yes.” Alfred doesn’t react to the lie. “When I lost contact with you, I called Master Dick to go check on you. He found you injured in an alley with a snapped grapple line.”
“I don’t really remember the fall.” Bruce admits brow furrowed.
“Yeah, that would be the fear toxin.” Dick states.
Bruce nods. “I see.”
“I called Clark, and you were brought to the watch tower.” Dick continues the explanation. “Once you were stable, we brought you back to the cave.”
“In order to avoid any speculation if both Batman and Bruce Wayne disappeared.” Alfred takes back over. “Master Dick decided to don the cowl until you recovered.”
Bruce’s look becomes sharp, the cold returning. “And the kid? Was that just part of the deception? Throwing a random kid into danger?”
“Bruce-” Alfred tries to scold him.
“He’s not some random kid!” Dick snaps.
“Then what is he?” Bruce demands. “Why is he in the cave arguing about patrol if he’s not some replacement for Jason!”
“Tim isn’t just some replacement!” Dick can feel his face getting warm. “He’s my-”
“Tim? As in Tim Drake?” Bruce interrupts. “Our neighbors' son?”
“The Drakes were arrested,” Alfred explains. “And are currently awaiting trial for a long list of charges, including child abuse.”
That breaks through the ice; Bruce's brows furrowing. Dick knows exactly what he's thinking, because Dick had the same thought. How had they missed it?
“Master Tim is currently a ward of the state and is staying here-”
“No.” Bruce's expression shutters. “Call his case worker, send him to a different home. I don’t want another kid; I don’t want another Robin-”
“He’s not your kid!” Dick snaps. “We’re not fostering him in your name, Bruce! I’m fostering him; he’s my son, my Robin. You don’t get a choice here.”
Bruce’s lips curl. “You may be standing in as Batman, but that doesn’t mean you get to choose a Robin-”
“I’m actually the only one who should get a say in Robin.” Dick states coolly. “It’s my mantle-”
“Robin is dead! Jason is dead!” Bruce's voice breaks, energy flagging. “My son is dead. How can you just put another kid in his suit like he never mattered?”
“That’s not- I’m sorry Bruce.” Dick feels all his anger rush out of him. “I’m sorry, Jason’s my brother, I’m not trying to replace him. But Tim is-”
“What happens when there's an Arkham break-out?” Bruce interrupts. “Do you think you can protect him when the Joker goes after him? Do you really think you can stop Tim from ending up right next to Jason?”
“Master Bruce!” Alfred rebukes, tone sharp, a clear warning.
“I-” Dick feels like he’s fallen through a frozen lake, he feels cold, sounds are muffled, his chest is tight making it suddenly difficult to breathe.
The Joker is dead, the Joker is dead, and Bruce doesn’t know yet. Doesn’t know Dick is the reason.
How can Dick ever tell him?
Dick surges to his feet a wave of dizziness causing him to stumble. He hears Alfred say something but can’t make it out.
“That won’t happen.” Dick somehow forces out the words, before he stumbles out of the med bay.
He somehow manages to make it to the trash can by the batcomputer before he vomits.
There’s a hand on his back as he empties the contents of his stomach into the can. “There you go lad, let it out.”
Tears fall down his face, his nose running, all he can smell is his own sick. Alfred's hand stays on his back until the heaving stops.
A tissue is wordlessly handed to him; Dick takes it wiping off his face. “M’sorry Alfred.”
“No need to apologize." Alfred soothes.
“No, I mean-” Dick takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t want it to devolve into an argument. He just woke up from a coma, I should have- I wanted to give him more time to recover.”
“That was unfortunate.” Alfred agrees. “Perhaps you should go check on Master Tim, while I go try and calm Master Bruce down.”
Dick nods, “Yeah, I’m just going to clean up first.”
“I can take care of the trash-”
“No, no.” Dick grabs the can. “It’s my mess, and of the two of us, I think you have the harder task.”
Alfred sighs. “Very well Master Dick, I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Good luck.” Dick grimaces, “I’ll update you on how Tim’s doing.”
Dick makes his way upstairs, teeth freshly brushed shirt changed. His mind still stuck in the basement.
How are they going to manage this? Bruce had reacted so poorly to Tim, can Dick trust Bruce around him? What if Bruce said something cruel to Tim? What if he made Tim feel unwelcome?
Surely once Bruce knew more of the story, he’d calm down a little. He may never approve of Tim being Robin, but he would understand that Tim needed help.
He doesn’t know, this isn’t the same Bruce anymore, Dick barely recognizes him.
Dick finds Tim in his room with Babs, leg propped up on a pile of pillows. Babs is sitting on the bed, running her hands through Tim’s hair in a soothing motion, but while Tim looks relaxed, Dick can see his eyes fluttering as he fights sleep.
“Hey.” Dick lightly knocks on the door frame.
Tim sits up. “How’s Bruce?”
“About as healthy as he can be.” Dick states, coming over and sitting on Tim’s other side. “He’ll need a lot of time to recover.”
“He… Called me Jason.” Tim states hesitantly. “Does he-”
“He knows.” Dick interrupts. “He was just disoriented at first.”
“Does he know I’m Robin?” Tim asks.
“Yeah, he does now.” Dick confirms with a sigh. “He doesn’t know everything. Not yet, it’s too soon, but he knows you’re Robin.”
“Does he know you have custody of Tim?” Babs lightly encourages Tim to lay back down.
“Yeah.” Dick adjusts Tim’s covers. “I told him. Again, not the whole story, but enough.”
Tim yawns, eyelids starting to droop. “Are you going to explain everything?”
Dick nods. “When he’s ready to hear it.”
“Get some sleep Chickadee.” Babs murmurs, pressing a kiss to Tim’s temple. “We can talk more in the morning.”
“Will both of you stay?”
“Of course we will, Little Love.” Dick assures him. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Tim hums in response. “Thank-you.”
“Any time bud.”
Sleep is a slippery thing; they all have nightmares, waking up gasping for breath and taking comfort in the warmth of their loved ones beside them.
Dick is just grateful Tim isn’t woken by him or Babs. Only waking when his own dreams become too much. A few times Tim’s whimpering or shifting alerts Dick, and he’s able to soothe Tim back to sleep.
Eventually they all successfully drift off into an uneasy rest.
“Impromptu celebrations have erupted throughout the city, after news of the Joker's death was announced early this morning." The reporter speaks, behind her are civilian cheering and dancing. Ribbons and flowers cover the sidewalks hang from lampposts, sit in store front windows.
“The GCPD has just released a statement, that DNA testing confirms the body was in fact Joker’s. Laying any doubts to rest. The only thing we know about his death at the moment is that it was a trap gone wrong. Commissioner Gordon will be holding a press conference this evening that should shed more light on what happened.”
“Thank-you Shauna.” The host says, as the camera changes angle. “Join us again after the breaks for interviews with the people out celebrating-”
Dick turns off the tv, tossing the remote onto the coffee table, falling back against the backrest. He’s glad Tim is upstairs video chatting with his friends.
Conflicted, that's what he feels. People are celebrating, a man is dead, a man who’d terrorized the city for years. More like a tyrant than just a criminal. Of course they’re celebrating.
The city is a little safer tonight.
Dick killed a man, people are celebrating.
“Hey.” Dick jumps as Babs places a hand on his shoulder. “Stay on earth Spaceman.”
“I’m wherever you are.” Dick grins, leaning over to look at her.
She raises a brow unimpressed. “Don’t do that.”
Dick sighs, then crawls over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her neck. “I’m fine Babs.”
Babs shifts, pulling her legs onto the couch and laying down, Dick draped over her. “Sure you are bird brain.”
Dick hums, relaxing in her embrace. “How are you?”
She shrugs. “Okay, it doesn’t really feel real. Even with the DNA confirmation I just- I don’t know.”
“Feel like he’s just biding his time until he pops back up?”
“Yeah.” Babs confirms. “He always shows up when you don’t expect him, where you don’t expect him to be.”
Dick feels her arm slide off of him, moving to touch her stomach.
“I’m not upset he’s gone.” Dick states. “I’m not, I-”
“Yes, you are.” Babs rebuts. “I know you’re not grieving him, but you’re upset you killed him.”
“He was a monster-”
“I know Dick.”
“I’m sorry.” Dick puts a hand over hers.
She sighs, grabbing his hand, and intertwining their fingers. “Don’t be.”
“How am I going to tell Bruce?” Dick asks, feeling lost.
“Don’t.” Babs responds with a shrug. “The official report says it was an accident. Let him believe it.”
“Do you think he will?” Dick pushes himself up on his elbows to look at her.
“He might.” Babs cups his face with her free hand. “I think he’ll want to.”
He brings the hand he’s holding up to his lips. “I love you, Starlight.”
“I love you too, Spaceman.” Babs responds.
Dick lets go of her hand and pulls himself closer to kiss her. Their mouths move together gently, taking their time as they allow themselves to forget the world around them. Finally, Dick pulls back, pressing their foreheads together.
“I should go check on Bruce.” Dick states, placing a featherlight kiss on her nose.
“Do you want me to come?” Babs offers.
“No.” Dick shakes his head.
“Text me if you change your mind.” Babs kisses him once more. “Don’t put him back in the coma.”
Dick sighs, forcing himself to stand, even though he wants nothing more than to stay on the couch, cuddling with Babs. “I’ll try not to.”
Alfred is leaving the infirmary with Dr. Thompkins as Dick reaches the cave.
“Hello Dick.” Dr. Tompkins greets. “How’s Tim?”
“He’s doing okay.” Dick responds. “On face time with his friends.”
“That’s good to hear.” Dr. Thompkins nods. “I was just telling Alfred it should be safe to move Bruce up to his room.”
“I pulled out the wheelchair for him already.” Alfred states. “I was just going to go upstairs to make sure his room was ready.”
Dick pushes down the spike of anxiety. “That's great. I was just going to check in on him, is he awake?”
“He is.” Alfred confirms.
“I’ll be back to check on him in a couple days.” Dr. Tompkins states. “But call me if anything changes.”
“We will.” Dick assures her. “Thank-you.”
Dr. Tomkins and Alfred leave, and Dick is left standing by the entrance to the infirmary, trying to work up the courage to go in.
Eventually he’s able to force himself to step into the med bay.
Bruce is sitting up in his cot, eyes closed as an audio book plays on his phone.
“Hey B.” Dick greets. “How are-”
“The Joker is dead.” Bruce states, eyes opening to look at him. “Alfred told me he died due to his own bomb.”
Dick’s mouth dries, but he’s able to force out an answer. “Yeah.”
“That doesn’t mean this is a good idea.” Bruce states firmly.
“Bruce.” Dick runs a hand through his hair, heart sinking. “You don’t-”
“Do you think you’re ready to raise a kid?” Bruce asks. “Your twenty-two practically a kid yourself-”
“I’m twenty-three Bruce.” Dick interrupts. “You were in a coma for nine months, my birthday’s past.”
Bruce pauses, processing Dick’s words. “That… Doesn’t change the fact that you're young.”
“I’m older than you were!” Dick snaps. “In case you’ve forgotten.”
“You are.” Bruce agrees. “That doesn’t mean you’re ready to be a parent. Or you wouldn’t be putting Tim in harm's way-”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dick cuts Bruce off. “You don’t know what happened, you don’t know why I made Tim Robin. It wasn’t for shits and giggles, or because I felt like following in your footsteps by training child soldiers.”
“No, you jumped into something without a plan.” Bruce states. “Like you’ve always done. This isn’t a drug bust Dick; this is a child! A traumatized one!”
“Fuck you, Bruce.” Dick spits out. “You think I don’t know he’s a traumatized kid? I’ve been there for meltdowns, panic attacks, and nightmares. I’ve spent months convincing this kid that he’s safe with me, that I’m not going anywhere! And I’m not! Neither you nor his piece of shit bio parents are going to convince me otherwise!”
“Dick-”
“No Bruce!” Dick takes a deep breath. “If you don’t want a relationship with your grandson, then that’s your problem. Leave him alone. You want to fight? Fight me. But Tim is off limits. I won’t have you destroying months of progress! Got it?”
Bruce's jaw is clenched, but he nods.
“I know you’re grieving.” Dick scrubs his face, turning to leave. “We all are, but it’s been a year for the rest of us. Life kept moving on, I’m sorry you missed it. Take the time you need to grieve, just don’t take it out on Tim.”
Dick leaves the med bay after that, knowing they’d just keep fighting if he didn’t.
“Is Bruce going to join us for dinner?” Tim asks as Dick places the table.
Dick and Babs exchange a look, she’s clearly just as unsure as him about what to tell Tim.
“No Chickadee.” Babs finally speaks. “He still can’t really handle a lot of food yet, so Alfred is going to bring him some soup.”
Tim nods. “Okay, is Alfred having dinner with him?”
“Yeah.” Dick confirms. “So, we’re good to start eating now.”
He’s not sure how to tell Tim that Bruce doesn’t want him here. Tim was so insecure about taking up space. There’s no way this wouldn’t bring it back up. But he couldn’t just not tell him either, Tim was too smart, he’d pick up on Bruce’s feelings and that would be worse than Dick telling him.
“Are you going on patrol tonight?” Tim’s question pulls Dick away from his spiraling thoughts.
“Yeah, there might be some riots.” Dick states. “Hopefully not, but I’ve seen riots after the Gotham Knights win, so…”
“Can I help on comms with mom?” Tim gives him a pleading look.
Dick shrugs. “Sure, you don’t have a concussion.”
“Yes!” Tim cheers.
Dick trudges upstairs, head a mess of tangled thoughts. It had been a fairly peaceful patrol, though there had been some violent behavior, but Dick, the GCPD and other civilians had been able to keep things pretty calm.
The biggest issue Dick had was civilians kept trying to drag him into the celebration. He was able to brush them off, keeping away from the crowds that weren’t causing damage. But many would raise a drink or shout in excitement when they saw him.
At some point Dick found himself observing a block party in Crime Alley, a large bon fire in someone's yard. People laughing and drinking, music blaring, kids running around with sparklers. He observes the festivities until they bring out an effigy of Joker, carrying it towards the fire.
At that point Dick moves on from the scene, calling it a night.
His plan is to head straight to Tim’s room, but he stops when he notices the light in the library is on.
Dick peeks inside, and sees Bruce in a wheelchair, staring at Jason's favorite place to sit and read. A window seat that overlooked the gardens.
“Hey B.” Dick gently greets.
Bruce doesn’t react. “He was reading Treasure Island.”
“He was?”
“It was,” Bruce’s voice breaks. “The last thing I saw him reading here.”
Dick walks over to Bruce and sees he’s holding the book.
“He never-” Bruce takes a shaky breath. “He’d normally tell me about the books he was reading. He never got to tell me.”
“I bet he really liked it.” Dick says quietly. “He always loved the movie.”
Bruce takes a shaky breath, settling the book down where he’d likely found it. He looks exhausted; Dr. Tompkins said he’d need a lot of rest as his body recovered.
“B, maybe you should head to bed.” Dick reaches out to touch his shoulder.
“I don’t need your help.” Bruce’s voice is hard, but he refuses to look at Dick.
Dick lets his hand drop, shoving it in his pocket. “Okay, just- Jason wouldn’t want this-”
“How would you know what Jason would want?” Bruce snaps. “You were barely around.”
Dick swallows hard, refusing to let Bruce bait him into another argument and risk waking Tim. “I know he loved you and wouldn’t want you to run yourself into a coffin next to him.”
Bruce doesn’t respond, but Dick can see his jaw clench.
“Fine, have a good night.” Dick turns, leaving the library and going over to Tim’s room.
He can’t force Bruce to care about his wellbeing, never had been able to. Dick needs to focus on his own family now.