Work Text:
Jason was dead. Dick's little brother was dead and Bruce hadn't told him.
It was a good way to mend things between them.
"How could he? How?" Dick thought as he walked down into the cave, all furious as he hadn't been since Zucco killed Dick's parents.
Jason was dead. Bruce hadn't told him and hadn't waited for him.
Dick had not been to his brother's funeral. He had yet to receive a message.
It didn't matter that communications were complicated and that he was in space.
Bruce always finds a way.
This time, he didn't want to, so he decided to cut it out.
Again.
He found him in front of the computer, cowl down.
He growled, "Are you down to business yet? It's a relief to see you got your priorities right."
(He thought it was unfair to say, especially since it was evident that Bruce was destroyed, paler than usual, thinner. But Dick was angry, and found no room for pity.)
"Gotham needs me," the man replied, keeping his gaze fixed on the screen.
Always a prompt answer, isn't it?
Dick mocked him, "Gotham needs. And Jason? And me?"
Bruce choked out, "Jason loved Gotham."
"To the point of dying for this city?"
"It didn't happen in Gotham."
"Really? But what do I know, right? I wasn't here after all. You didn't tell me anything!"
Bruce didn't answer. Dick felt his hands itch, the urge to smash something growing.
Specifically, smashing the face of the man in front of him.
"I couldn't have done otherwise," he finally replied.
"I had to organize everything in a hurry. There was no time."
"That's all? Wasn't their time? My brother died and you couldn't wait for me?"
"You came back after two months," he told him.
" In this time, people like Vicky Vale would have asked questions. She could have bribed the funeral home, she would have seen…she would have seen the body, and made her guesses. He beat his son to the point of killing him. I would have looked like an abuser. But for those who know how Robin died, it would be the revelation that Jason was Robin, and from there it wouldn't be hard to figure out that I'm Batman."
Why did Bruce have to look reasonable and Dick the asshole? It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Bruce had a point, and it was a valid one.
It still didn't excuse him for not warning Dick.
"How long have you cared about reporters? Use your money for something good, for once."
"Vicky Vale doesn't take bribes."
A laugh, "We both know what she wants from you, Bruce. Give it to her once and for all, and…"
"What does she want?"
Dick froze. Because it had been a small boy speaking, his face covered in dirt and black hair scattered everywhere. He had eyes he couldn't see in the dim light of the cave, but a part of his brain bet they were blue.
Like Dick's. Like Jason's.
Dammit, Bruce. Have you thought about a replacement yet?
His rage grew (how couldn't it? Jason had just died and Bruce had already adopted another child, another Robin whom he would have sent to die for his mad crusade) and he was ready to lash out at the other man.
But the boy didn't want to be ignored. "What does Vicky want?"
The answer was on the tip of the tongue, but very inappropriate for a child of…God, how old was he? He was tiny. Did Bruce think training one day would make him the perfect soldier?
He hated the man. Did he never learn?
Bruce turned around, tired, and dejected, with red eyes and a hint of a beard.
"Tim, how did you get here?"
The boy shrugged and sighed, "You can't keep doing this. You are about to drive your nanny crazy."
Nanny? Had he now demoted Alfred from butler to nanny? Did Alfred agree?
The man was a saint, but after yet another bullshit from Bruce, he expected him to lose his temper. If not for the new kid, at least for Jason.
"Don't worry. She is busy."
"With what?"
"She does things. She always talks on the phone with her bank."
Bruce rubbed his eyes and Dick heard him say, "Damn it, Drakes..."
Then he asked Tim, "Would you like to go upstairs?"
"Did Alfred make the cookies?"
"Maybe. Do you want to come and see?"
It was the right thing to say. Tim nodded, and let Bruce pick him up.
Dick said with a low growl, "We're not done, Bruce."
"Dick, later."
"You always run away!"
"Dick…"
"You have a new son, congratulations. That's one more thing you haven't told me!"
His voice boomed in the cave. He had screamed more than he meant. He looked like a fool but he had the right to.
It wasn't as if he wanted to impress his brother's replacement.
"He isn't. "
Dick blinked.
"What?"
Bruce repeated, "I didn't adopt Tim. He's the son of Jack Drake."
"Who?"
"The owner of the neighboring property."
Dick's eyes were so wide it was a miracle they didn't go out of his head. "You let a random kid discover your secret identity?"
"I didn't let him. He came in here after the funeral," he replied, looking at Tim with what he was, without a doubt, affection.
Not my son a horn. There was no way Bruce could look at a child like that and not love him at least a little.
Dick should know, once Bruce looked at him like that too.
Bruce continued, "Since then, he's always found a way into the cave. I don't know how he does it, and frankly, it scares me."
"You find us all, don't you?" Dick asked, his voice full of venom.
And Bruce looked at him, really looked at him, more sincerely than Dick had seen in years. They were raw emotions that he didn't know how to deal with.
He was used to anger, to harsh words. He didn't know what to do in the face of vulnerability.
“He found me. And before you ask, I'm not planning to replace Jason.”
"I didn't say that."
He grimaced, "You don't have to be the greatest detective in the world to know what you think, Dick."
"You…"
"We'll continue talking later," he interrupted.
"Just not in front of Tim."
Tim was hiding his face in the crook of Bruce's neck. He was hiding from Dick.
He didn't know how much the kid understood (maybe nothing, everything. He didn't underestimate who could walk into the safest place on Earth and get away with it ), but he seemed to think Dick was after him.
And yes, he had projected anger onto that little boy, but he didn't deserve it. He had a problem with Bruce. Not with Tim.
"All right. I'll wait for you here."
Bruce nodded, grateful. He was under no illusion that it would be easier later.
Later, when Tim was safe with Alfred, there was a lot of screaming. Mostly from him. Bruce took all of his anger, knowing he deserved it.
He didn't reciprocate. It was both frustrating and liberating.
He was listening, for once.
When there was no more anger or words to say, when anger became a tameable beast, Dick asked, "What's the business with that boy? Why does he keep coming?"
"Tim is neglected by his nanny. It's easy for him to find passages to get in here."
"Why are you letting him?"
"He would find a way."
"He's three," he reminded him.
"He's four and a half years old. And he's smarter than most adults I've known."
"So you want to steal him," he claimed.
"I want him to be safe. And as you pointed out, no child is safe with me."
Yes, and Dick wasn't planning to apologize for that. Because it was true.
It was better to have absent parents and a neglectful nanny than to be taken in by Bruce and be infected by his obsession with justice.
(But oh, how he would be loved.)
There was nothing more to say. It should have ended there. But then Bruce asked him if he wanted to visit Jason's grave with him, and Dick did not find the strength to refuse.
Dick no longer had to deal with Gotham and Batman. He had to get away before he too was killed.
He and Bruce had already said everything. It was over.
Except he kept coming back.
Escape from Arkham? Nightwing helped Batman.
Was Batman busy with the League? Nightwing patrolled the city.
And on these occasions, he also supervised Timothy Drake.
For safety. After all, he wasn't sure a child knew who they were. He could talk.
(Not that there was any risk. The parents were never around, and the nanny hated his job. The more she investigated, the more evident it was that young Tim's life was bleak.)
(Jason would have loved the brat.)
The more Dick investigated, the more he got involved. When things went wrong, he latched on. The same was true for Bruce.
And he knew he'd said it was wise for Tim not to get involved in the black hole of depression and destruction that was Bruce Wayne. However, Tim kept coming back.
Until he didn't anymore.
That day, both Batman and Nightwing raised hell.