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It all started with a locked door.
Dick did not like sleeping alone and he might be ten already but he was not embarrassed about it! Back in the circus, he slept between his parents nearly every night despite having a perfectly comfortable bed of his own. He was not afraid of the dark or the shadows in the wall that twisted themselves into macabre shapes; Dick simply liked better his mother’s warmth, the lulling sound of father breathing evenly by his side.
He thought he had lost that forever after they were murdered. Sleeping became harder and not just because he was on his own. Be it at juvie or the manor, Dick did not manage to feel fully at ease. It made no difference if he was sharing a cramped room with ten older boys or had a huge luxurious suit all to himself.
However, against all odds, Bruce was easy to coax into sleepovers. It began small and unintended, with Dick dozing off against him on the couch while they watched a dull old movie, and before long it was no rarity for Dick to slip into Bruce’s room after patrol and wriggle his way into his bed.
Bruce never locked his door. In fact, most of the time he did not even fully close it, leaving it slightly ajar for Dick to know it was okay to join him.
When the handle did not yield, Dick looked at it like it had personally offended him. Then, he knocked.
“Bruce?” Dick whispered when there was no immediate answer.
He frowned as the silence stretched. He could not possibly have someone over, could he? Dick knew that Bruce’s social engagements sometimes extended well past midnight, but he never conducted them in this room. He kept another one furnished and slightly untidy —a stray sock on the floor, a tie hanging where it should not be— to make it appear lived-in.
“I’m afraid Master Bruce is undisposed.”
Dick jumped at Alfred’s voice, heart suddenly hammering against his ribcage. The joke at the tip of his tongue died when he laid eyes on the older man, who seemed impossibly tired— And was it him or his eyes were slightly red?
“Is he alright?” Dick asked hesitantly, scratching the point where his neck met his shoulder.
“Just a bit under the weather, you two had a long night, after all.”
Right. Patrol had been… Eventful? Dink blinked, unable to recall much of it. He tried very hard, but all he could summon was a blur of darkness and blood. He must have gotten knocked out cold, right? He winced inwardly, knowing that meant Bruce would likely be extra vigilant and strict in the days to come.
He spared a look at the closed door, which now seemed far more ominous than before.
“Is it serious?”
“...he will be up and running by tomorrow. I have no doubt about that at least.”
Dick did not miss the hint of bitterness in Alfred’s voice. It was only natural, he supposed. The only person that hated seeing Bruce hurt more than Dick was probably him. He could not help but worry, but the look on Alfred’s face deterred him from insisting on checking on Bruce.
“How about some cranberry juice, Master Dick?”
Dick forced a smile on his lips.
“Sounds nice!”
-
It was still dark outside when Dick woke up. He was warm and comfy, someone had covered him with a fluffy blanket.
Cartoons were still playing on the TV. Dick put on the news and turned up the volume to discover that he had slept through the day and missed school. It was hard to believe that Alfred had allowed it, particularly when there was nothing that should’ve kept him from going; no nasty bruises on his face or aching ribs that made him wince every time he spoke.
Where was Alfred anyway?
An empty glass rested on the coffee table, its bottom a dry red splotch. Dick’s parents had taught him to clean after himself —though he had not always been the best at it—, but Alfred usually took care of everything before Dick could even think about doing so. Seeing the glass there, untouched since hours ago, made him feel weird.
He tried to shake off the feeling. Maybe Alfred was busy with something else— Bruce! He was probably doing better by now, they had both rested for like an entire day.
Dick practically ran to Bruce’s room, though he knew Alfred did not like it when he rushed like that around the manor, and did not bother to hold back a smile when he saw the door was slightly ajar. He happily let himself in.
“Back on your feet, old man?” Dick asked cheerfully.
Only the darkness was present in Bruce’s room to answer him. Dick’s smile fell a bit.
Well, chances were that he was at the Batcave. Or maybe he had already gone out on patrol. He wished he had bothered to wake Dick up before jumping straight into the suit again though. It was a good thing that Dick knew how to drive— He would catch up to him in no time.
Undaunted, Dick made his way back downstairs and into the living room. He quickly turned the hands of the grandfather clock… And nothing happened.
Dick had to resist the urge to stomp his foot. Now, this was just rude.
Was Bruce mad at him or something? Was it Dick’s fault that patrol went awry? As much as he tried to remember what had taken place the night before, the memories simply refused to resurface.
It could not have been that catastrophic, else the news would have talked about it, right?
He decided he would go wait for Bruce in the man’s own room, so he would not be able to avoid Dick when he returned. He moved like a ghost in the darkness of the manor, which felt not unlike a big cold mausoleum when it was just him there.
Bruce’s room was just as he left it. He climbed onto the bed, which was undone, and laid his head on Bruce’s pillow. A faintly metallic smell tickled his nose, but Dick was out before he could even begin to wonder what it belonged to. He did not realize he had been that tired.
-
“It’s time for school, Master Dick.”
Light bathed the room as Alfred drew the curtains open. A migraine bubbled behind Dick’s eyelids.
“Huh?” He blinked awake in confusion. His cheek was sticky with drying drool and it was so bright that his eyes were beginning to hurt. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten to his room. “What—”
“Master Bruce carried you here,” Alfred let him know, apparently able to read minds. A hint of impatience clung to his tone. “Now, it’s almost late, you must hurry if you mean to eat something.”
Dick got the feeling that Bruce was probably not at the table already reading the newspaper.
“But Alfred—”
“None of that. Get dressed, Master Dick. Breakfast is already served.”
Still tangled in his sheets, Dick pouted, but Alfred was gone before he could see it.
Dick glared at nothing while he ate his eggs and drank more cranberry juice. It was becoming apparent that something had happened and Alfred and Bruce were working together to keep him out of the loop.
Had Bruce forgotten that Dick had figured out he was the Batman? It was insulting that they thought they could keep something from him.
-
Since neither Bruce nor Alfred were around to give him a ride, he was left with no choice but to skip school again. Too bad about that math quiz. Nevermind that Dick rode his bike to school more often than not.
It was a good thing that Dick knew where every camera and sensor in the manor’s grounds was, it made the trip to the cave’s natural entrance a piece of cake. However, it did not make having to fight through the bushes, sink up to his knees in the bat-poop infested waters and move blindly in the dark as he went deeper and deeper any more pleasant.
He hoped that whatever it was that they were hiding from him was actually worth the trouble.
Wet, filthy and shivering, Dick eventually got to the Batcave. The lights were on, which let him know that someone was there, even if he was yet to spot them.
He moved cautiously, mindful of keeping his steps silent. He had removed his shoes as soon as he got out of the water. The cave was nearly silent, Dick could hear the gentle buzzing of a machine and an echo of a conversation, though he was still too far to make out what they were saying.
Dick followed the voices, climbing up the pillars that held the cave’s main platform together. Once he reached the top, he hid behind the mountain that were the Batcomputer’s servers. He still wasn’t close enough.
Someone had left some files open on the screen; one of them was an autopsy report. The picture was gruesome, a man with a mauled throat, the gash so deep you could see bone. The sight sent a chill down Dick’s spine, but he did not look at it for long, since he still wanted to find out what Alfred and Bruce were up to.
Their chatter had died down, so the only thing Dick heard as he got closer to the med bay was the gentle beeping of the blood warmer device. His heart stuttered nervously as he identified the noise, could it be that the matter was more serious than he thought? If the transfusion was for Bruce…
Well, Dick did not want to hide anymore. Why would Bruce think that concealing his injuries from Dick was a good idea? If he did not want to see him in whatever state he was because he was worried it would affect him, then he did not know Dick at all.
Resolved, Dick stepped away from the shadows. It was probably impossible to startle the Batman, but he did not want to take any chances by suddenly appearing out of thin air.
He moved slowly, conjuring up a good icebreaker, but he was barely two steps out of the shadows when his eyes found his mentor and greatest friend.
It was as if the entire cave went silent at once.
He had never seen Bruce hunched over like that, not even when he had been using the Batcomputer for hours. His spine was bent in a terribly odd manner and his head bobbed in a frantic motion. He held something in his hands.
Dick took a step back.
Bruce raised his head and his red gaze landed straight onto Dick’s.
It’s just Bruce, he told himself, even as his guts tied themselves into a painful knot and every cell in his body urged him to flee.
It’s just Bruce, Dick repeated like a mantra. It did not matter that the lower half of his face was filthy with both fresh and dry blood. Crimson rivulets made their way down Bruce’s neck. His nails had cut through the blood bag from holding it too tightly. It’s just him.
Dick would like to say he could have probably figured out on his own exactly what was happening to his mentor without seeing the razor sharp fangs protruding from his mouth.
He stood there like an idiot, a deer in the headlights, and despite himself his face might have given away his internal turmoil, because Bruce’s features twisted into something awfully tragic.
It’s just Bruce, Dick thought again, this time feeling more relief than dread.
The bag dropped to the floor, joining the puddle of dark red that had already been wasted. Bruce practically radiated shame and sadness and it was this that made Dick move with the urge to comfort him.
He sprang towards him, ready to embrace him, but Bruce raised his arm and growled.
“Don’t come any closer!” Bruce barked. “Stay away from me.”
It was as if he had stilled Dick with magic, but it was just the voice Dick was used to following when they went out on patrol and he was made to trust his judgement above his own.
“B… Are you—”
“How did you get in here? You should be at school.”
Dick frowned, fears briefly forgotten.
“Is that really what you want to focus on right now?”
Bruce pressed his lips into a thin, bloody line.
“You need to go upstairs. I’m not… I’m not safe to be around right now.”
“I don’t believe that,” Dick said resolutely. “Is this why you’ve been hiding?”
“Chum, listen to me—”
“No! This doesn’t change anything. We’re still partners. What even happened that night—”
“A creature popularly known as a vampire attacked you.”
Dick blinked and turned around to find Alfred holding a towel, which he handed to Bruce.
“...me?”
The spot between his neck and shoulder throbbed dully and his eyes grew wide as the realization hit him. He still could not summon the specific memories, but the darkness and the blood and the pain and then—
“Master Bruce was able to dispose of the creature before it could do any serious damage, but not without suffering some damage himself.”
“That’s enough, Alfred.”
Bruce had wiped his face clean, which made him look a smidge better. It was hard to ignore the waxy paleness of his skin or the purplish circles under his eyes.
“I fear we lack literature on the subject, but it seemed like the right call for Master Bruce to remain isolated while the… transformation ran its course.”
Dick’s stomach turned.
“So that means that you are…?”
Bruce pushed back his hair.
“A vampire. We’re still figuring out everything that it entails. So far we’ve confirmed that I’ve got a small grace period under direct sunlight before it turns me to ash. The vampire that attacked you seemingly went aflame as soon as the sun rose—”
Dick burst into tears.
“Are you dead?”
Bruce’s features softened at once.
“Just without a heartbeat, chum. I’m still here.”
His chest hurt.
Orders be damned, Dick threw himself at him. Bruce had never been what you would call plush, but now it was like landing against a wall.
Dick could not even tell if he was still because of the surprise or because his body no longer performed the small movements that came with breathing and living.
Slowly, Bruce’s arms came around him. This might have been what it felt like to be embraced by a marble statue, but Dick found comfort in the cold smoothness anyway.
“It’s still you. Don’t hide from me.”
“I won’t,” Bruce promised. “We’ll just have to be more careful from now on. I’m a potential threat, Dick. I could hurt you without meaning to.”
“You wouldn’t,” Dick said, face still buried in his chest. “I’m sure of it.”
There was no warmth in Bruce’s hand as it cupped his head, but Dick felt it all the same.
