Chapter Text
Sixteen.
It was far too young to be a father, in any case—and Dick's circumstances hardly made it any easier.
He felt like he didn't remember Talia and him ever...well. He didn't remember them doing anything that would make a baby, and the way Talia's eyes coolly looked past him supported that theory.
But she had a baby with her, and good god, it--he--had Dick's eyes, blue and watching him like he didn't know what to make of him. Not as trusting as a baby's eyes should be, in Dick's opinion, and he made not a peep.
“How...” his throat was like paper, “How do I know he's mine? You can't be serious.”
Talia pressed her lips together—pomegranate-red-pink, and eyes dusted with eyeshadow that complimented her green eyes. “Did you want DNA evidence? I can provide it. We have extensive files on his DNA—and yours. The Bat--” and here, her lip sort of sneered slightly, but not hate, “had your DNA on file, in any case, and what we have will match—so does Damian's. In terms of being yours, not being a clone.”
Her breasts were on display, nearly popping out of the dress, but Dick hardly noticed as he stared at the small child in front of him. Talia was still holding him out, clearly expecting Dick to take him.
Dick swallowed. How could he have had this kid? He was—the kid had to be almost a year old, and nine months before that... He paled at the math. “Did...Did I...?”
Talia sighed, as if weighing what her answer would bring. “What difference does it truly make if he's yours?”
He deserved to know what happened. He could feel a sort of anger lick up the inside of his chest, and he grit his teeth as he started, “Of course it makes a difference, if I--”
“He is yours.” She said it with finality—and dropped Damian.
Dick dove before he even thought about it, easily catching the child and clutching him to his chest. He thought, maybe, he caught relief in Talia's eyes too—before she disappeared out the window.
Damian uttered a small sound that sounded like asking for his mother. His tiny fingers clenched in Dick's shirt, as he began to suck on his collar.
Dick was stunned, still there in half-crouch as he held the child. The crinkle of papers as Damian moved, however, made him come alive again.
There was indeed DNA work tucked into Damian's blankets—but as if Dick could trust it. He'd need to—his brain seemed to crackle a bit, reel—he needed to find out if this kid truly was his. He needed to know how it could have happened, and how...
No. He would focus on paternity first—and then wonder. Then investigate.
Otherwise, he might throw up.
Not because Talia wasn't beautiful or anything like that—but she was an adult, and he could've been a fourteen year old, and he definitely did not remember ever getting beyond awkward kissing at that age. And focusing on that thought was troubling, sent prickles through his skin—he couldn't consider it right now.
He gently moved Damian away from his collar—he was in civvies. The baby had made it quite damp, gnashing at it with mostly gums—but some teeth poking through that. In fact, a pair of canines, it seemed, were most prominent.
Damian stared at him with those blue eyes, and his lower lip started to tremble.
“Hey, hey, it's okay, I swear. You're okay,” Dick managed, rubbing the baby's back. He was soft, so squishy and utterly breakable. So fragile. Dick felt like he was handling one of those things at a store that you were afraid of breaking.
Damian let out a low cry, a low almost-wail. His tone was a bit strange, less the high-pitched screech that Dick usually heard from babies.
Dick rocked him, trying to figure out what he was going to do with him—beyond the immediate calming him down.
He had to find out if Damian was truly his—then, then...he would figure it out. He would figure it out.
And his blasted brain allowed him to find someone to watch Damian—specifically, Wally, who had come at a call, and not asked questions—when requested not to. He just looked at the blue eyes, and cradled Damian with all the care one would expect of Wally.
When it came to people, small children, Wally really was pretty great at caring for them.
Dick slipped back home. He didn't want to bring it up to Bruce—yet. Once he was sure what was going on, maybe he would involve Bruce. Talia had definitely been one of Bruce's paramours, that much he knew—and he did not want to get caught in a complicated situation like that if it wasn't true.
He'd taken a sample from Damian, and of course, his DNA was already in the system. So, he set it going. It would take a short bit.
In the meantime, he started researching what he knew about Talia.
She was the daughter of Ra's al Ghul—revived more than once in the Lazarus Pits. Which, of course, probably led to all kinds of crazy, frankly. Maybe she was just playing a game.
He tried to find any known children of Talia—nothing. At least, nothing apparent. There was also her sister, Nyssa al Ghul, at least a century and a half old—but she was supposed to be infertile. She could not have had Damian, most likely.
Ra's had fathered children—maybe Damian was really his. Dick started digging into the files—and came up against encryption.
Nothing he couldn't handle—he needed to know, and he didn't want to alert Bruce just yet. Things had been a bit tense between them lately, Bruce with a need to control and Dick with a need to be free. Well, this was one more instance in which Dick would be the one in control, for once.
He broke the encryption—and immediately started on the files regarding immortality.
It wasn't quite what he was looking for, but he hoped to find some clue.
He only felt Bruce's shadow over his shoulder moments before the shout of, “What are you doing?!” came crashing into his ears.
Dick stood up. His whole mind kept doing a weird whorl, like it was made of jello, and he had to focus. “It's not your business.” Maybe he was being a bit petulant—but Bruce didn't need to know everything, and Dick wasn't ready to talk to him about this.
“I encrypted those files for a reason,” Bruce growled, “What were you doing in them? Because if you're thinking of dabbling in that, or going after Ra's yourself--”
“So you can have hidden things, but I can't?” Dick demanded, a sudden flare of anger going through him. He wasn't entirely certain where it came from. “You can hide your files—but you know everything about me. You know every case I work on. What kind of partners are we?”
“I'm the senior partner,” Bruce said gruffly, “And you're a minor. You listen to me—and you stay out of those files.”
Dick glared, another flare of anger going through him. He did not like being told what to do of late. “Partners are equals, Bruce—or they're not really partners, are they? You haven't trusted me from day one, have you?”
Dick wasn't sure he was making sense—but Bruce apparently took it very personally.
“You have no idea what goes into being a crimefighter—you're still a child, and you need to--”
“Oh yeah? Did I have no idea when I was being beaten by Two-Face? How about when I--”
“Stop it!” Bruce snapped it angrily. His temper was rising, Dick could see it—but he couldn't stop.
“Apparently, a child is good enough to risk his life, but not to know details about his enemies—they're my enemies too, as much as yours! It's fucking stupid to keep in the dark—but that's how you like it, right? Me not knowing what's going on so you can keep your control? You're as fucking messed up as the creeps you fight!”
A pain snapped through Dick's face. It ached as he staggered back, Bruce's fist already pulled back to his body.
Bruce's face was indecipherable. “Get out.” He seemed to look towards his fist again, and then glared vehemently at Dick. “Get out! Get out of my house!”
Dick went, running—not certain if he was scared, or angry, or what—but knowing to leave.
His heart did a painful throb, and then hardened—maybe he wasn't welcome here anymore.
Maybe the fledgling of this Robin was long over.
And he didn't know what to do or think beyond that, as he sobbed into the winter gloves he'd managed to pull on and hid his face in the hood of his coat.