Chapter Text
Dick was sure that, under any other circumstance, he would have considered Commissioner Gordon to be a perfectly kind and caring man. It was hard for him to dislike people. His parents had taught him to be kind and caring to everyone he met.
Except his parents were already buried six feet under in a cemetery already filled with so many dead bodies that their headstones scraped against other, nameless people’s. They could not tell him to be nicer to Commissioner Gordon, because they had died a month ago, and dead people’s words have no meaning.
That’s what the boys in juvie said, at least.
But now he was in a police car with Commissioner Gordon, head propped up against the window, watching the dreary Gotham scenery make way to well-maintained, plush forestry. The old man attempted to make conversation with Dick, talking about his daughter being friends with the third oldest son of his new guardian, but Dick simply ignored him.
Eventually, Commissioner Gordon gave up, sensing his dour mood. He turned and started to drive up a road so nice that Dick wasn’t sure it could even be considered part of Gotham.
After a few minutes, the car came to a stop at an intimidating set of wrought iron gates with the initials “WM” engraved at the center.
“Well,” Commissioner Gordon said, parking the car. “This is where I’ll leave you, kiddo.”
Dick didn’t reply.
“Alfred should be out any second to walk you inside,” he continued, stepping out of the car. “He’s Mr. Wayne’s butler. And, yours too, now.” He opened the back door to let Dick out.
“Correct, Commissioner Gordon,” a posh, British voice said. Dick turned and met the eyes of an old man dressed in a well-fitted suit. This was Alfred, then. “Thank you for driving him. Master Richard, would you like to follow me inside?” He held a gloved hand out to Dick, who simply stared at it.
“Not much of a talker,” Commissioner Gordon said. “Like Miss Cain.”
“I see,” Alfred said, dropping his hand. Instead, he simply smiled down at Dick, tilting his body towards the manor. He took one step, then peaked back at Dick.
Knowing there was truly nowhere else for him to go, Dick followed.
They walked through a perfectly groomed garden, complete with bushes cut into animals or other complex designs (such as Batman or Wonder Woman), then arrived at the front doors of Wayne Manor, which was just as grand as Dick expected. They were a beautiful dark oak wood with gold embellishments (probably real, judging by the rest of the place). Dick, who had an acrobat’s build, had to fully tilt his head backwards to barely see the top of the manor itself.
Alfred led him inside, revealing an empty foyer area full of multiple very expensive-looking statues and artwork, with a crystal chandelier dangling in the middle, tantalizingly.
“If you wouldn’t mind, Master Richard, Wayne Manor is a shoes-off household.” Alfred gestured to an extremely large shoe rack that was completely empty.
Dick leaned down and shucked off the ratty shoes they gave to him in juvie, setting them down onto the shoe rack. Next to the grandeur of Wayne Manor, he was sure he must’ve looked just as out-of-place as his shoes. They hadn’t even let him shower before heading to the home of a man Dick couldn’t recall meeting.
“This is the foyer,” Alfred said, walking inward. Dick trailed behind, trying to ignore the feeling of his big toe poking through his sock. “Through that door is the kitchen, which I would advise you to only enter under my supervision, and the dining room. Past that is the living room, the family room, and then the library. Behind those is the ballroom. There are also various offices, which again, I would advise that you ask each person’s permission before entering.”
Alfred led them up a staircase, slowing his gait to allow for Dick to climb up. “The second floor is the bedrooms, as well as the second floor of the library. Additionally, there are a few lounges.” He stopped at a door halfway through the East Wing, which had a small nameplate already on it reading “Richard.”
“Here is your bedroom, Master Richard,” Alfred said, opening the door. Inside was a room five times the size of his family’s tent back at Haley’s. Alfred gestured for him to move inside, then pointed at a door. “That’s the attached bathroom, which has both a shower and a bathtub. This,” he bent down and pointed at a small red button at the bottom of the bedside table, “is the panic button, should you, goodness forbid, find yourself in any trouble.”
Alfred straightened back up, smiling down at Dick, who was still standing awkwardly at the center of the room. Sensing that the man was looking for some kind of response, he nodded brusquely. “I’m sure it has been a long few weeks for you, Master Richard. I shall leave you to it. Dinner will be in an hour or so. I’ll come up and escort you to the dining room.”
As he went to leave, Dick opened his mouth for the first time since sitting down in Commissioner Gordon’s car. “Where’s Mr. Wayne, Mr. Pennyworth?” he asked, voice raspy from the lack of use.
Alfred paused, face carefully blank. “I am afraid Master Bruce got caught up at work,” he said. “However, I do believe Master Timothy and Master Duke shall be home just in time to welcome you. Master Bruce should be back by morning to properly meet you. And you may call me Alfred, Master Richard.”
But when Alfred leads him to the dining room just an hour later, Dick finds the long table set for one. He wants to ask Alfred to sit with him, but his throat closes up before he can. Dinner is eaten in silence, save for the clinking sounds of Dick’s utensils.
It is the same the next day.
And the next.
On his fourth day at the Manor, while sitting at the empty dining table for breakfast, Dick finally met Timothy Drake-Wayne, the third oldest. The one that was friends with Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, Dick noted.
He came in looking like he just got off of multiple all-nighters, with messy hair and eye bags the color of his dark navy suit. He headed straight to the coffee machine in the corner, pouring himself a cup and sipping from it before Alfred let out a loud cough.
“Master Timothy,” Alfred said, voice laced with disapproval. “I trust that you shall properly introduce yourself to your new brother, as you said you would four days ago?”
“Oh,” the other boy said, eyes roaming to where Dick was sitting, eyes wide. “Huh.” Alfred raised a single eyebrow. “Richard, right? I’m Tim—” He cut off, staring at the mug of tea sitting next to Dick. “That’s Jason’s.”
Jason Todd. The dead one.
“Master Timothy—”
“Are there no other mugs, Alfred? You had to… ” Timothy took a deep breath, not looking at Dick. “Whatever.”
“Will you be staying for breakfast?”
“No,” he said, already moving out the door. “I’ve still got to catch up on some work. I won’t be home for lunch or dinner, either.” And without a glance back, he left.
“I apologize for him, Master Richard,” Alfred said. “For all of them, I suppose. These last few months… It has been hard on the family.”
Dick, who could hear the sheer betrayal in Timothy’s voice, simply nodded. He didn’t take another sip of his tea after that, and requested that he drink only water at meals from then on.
He met Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, the oldest and only biological child, and Duke Thomas-Wayne, the second oldest, that night.
“Grayson,” Damian said, sitting down across from him. He inclined his head in greeting.
“Richard, right?” Duke said, giving the first non-Alfred smile Dick’s gotten since arriving at the Manor. “I’m Duke, it’s nice to meet you. Don’t take Damian’s last name thing personally, he refers to everyone by their last names.”
Dick hummed, staring down at his plate of Quwarmah Al Dajaj, rice, and salad. It was the first non-European dish he had been served so far, and he could tell that his nearly nonexistent appetite was finally being tempted.
“How are you liking the Manor so far?” Duke asked, spooning some chicken and salad on pita bread. “I know it can get pretty lonely here by yourself, though I’m sure Damian could say more about that.” Duke looked at said man, who stayed silent. Duke coughed.
“It’s fine,” Dick said quietly. “Mr. Pennyworth’s here, so.”
“The glue holding us all together,” Duke joked.
“Not Mr. Wayne?” Dick asked, and immediately regretted it. Both Damian and Duke stilled, sharing a look with each other. In the corner, Dick heard Alfred suck in a breath.
“Father has been rather busy these last few days,” Damian said, dabbing at the corner of his mouth. He ate like a prince, Dick noted, all perfect manors and no noise when the knife and fork slid through perfectly cooked tofu. “Although, he said he would be back for dinner tomorrow to officially meet you.”
“Wait, he hasn’t… ” Duke trailed off, biting his lip. “Well, it has been a rough week. Months.” It was the same sentiment Alfred had shared the day before. “Anyway, Richard, have you found a favorite spot in the Manor yet? I really like the balcony in the West Wing, third floor.”
Dinner went by quickly after that, with Duke leading most of the conversation and Damian and Dick occasionally replying. He seemed used to it, though, and waved kindly to Dick when he and Damian headed back to their apartment in downtown Gotham.
The next night and most of the next day was filled with worry over finally meeting the elusive man that had deigned to take him in. After that first lonely dinner, Dick almost expected him to flake again, but when Dick sat down for dinner that night, he finally arrived, one minute after dinner was set to start.
“Apologies, Alfred,” he said. “I got caught up.”
The first thing Dick noticed was that his voice was a lot deeper than he thought it would be, raspy in ways that implied it was scarcely used. The next was that he was a lot bulkier than photos implied; Dick knew a well-trained body when he saw one. The third was that he was favoring his right side, just barely.
“Welcome home, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, pulling out the chair at the head of the table. “Although I believe that apology belongs to Master Richard, not me.”
Mr. Wayne sat down, eyes finally finding Dick’s. “My apologies, Richard.”
“Are you hurt?” Dick asked. “You’re limping.” Mr. Wayne paused, mouth parted slightly.
“Just a small sprain from walking wrong,” he said. “You’re rather observant, Richard.”
Dick just nodded. He had been doing a lot of that lately.
“Tonight is a roast chicken with rosemary potatoes, sauteed carrots, kale salad, and apple pie a la mode for dessert,” Alfred said, setting down the plates in front of them. Dick waited for Mr. Wayne to take a bite of food before digging in himself.
They ate in silence for a bit. Mr. Wayne’s table manners, while not quite the same princelike grace as Damian’s, were just as posh. Dick could feel how tense his hands were, trying to keep his knife from clinking against the expensive porcelain. “It’s been a few days since you moved in, correct? How are you feeling?”
“It’s been fine,” Dick said, eyes trained on his chicken. Mr. Wayne’s eyes seemed to bore into him, and Dick was certain that if he looked up, he would be met with a judgemental stare. “Mr. Pennyworth has been very kind.”
“That’s good,” he said. Dick was quickly coming to the end of his plate. Would they eat dessert together, as well? “You’ve met Tim, Damian, and Duke?”
“Yes, Sir,” Dick answered.
“I hope they were kind. I know Damian and Tim can be a little… ” Mr. Wayne sighed. “Have you given any thought on what you want to do?”
“Sorry?” Dick asked, taken aback by the topic change.
“Summer technically ends next week,” Mr. Wayne said. “I was thinking… Right now, the Manor is rather empty. It’s rare for anyone other than Alfred or myself to be home, and I have found myself busier than ever as of late. As such, I think a boarding school would be best, so that you won’t be alone in the Manor.”
Dick was glad that he had set down his utensils, or else they would have clattered against the table. “A boarding school?”
“It’s a very well-regarded one. I know many people who attended and had nothing but good things to say about it.”
Just a moment ago, the food in Dick’s stomach had been the best thing about the conversation. Now, he was scared he was about to vomit it up all over the nice tablecloth.
“I’ve already sent in all the forms,” he continued, setting his napkin on the table. He stood up, clearly heading out. “I’ll have Alfred help you pack up. Their new student orientation is in two days, so you’ll be flying out tomorrow night.” And, just like Tim, Mr. Wayne left without a glance back at him.
After a moment, Alfred took away Dick’s empty plate, replacing it with a bowl full of still-steaming apple pie and vanilla ice cream. The portion was quite a bit bigger than any of the other desserts Alfred had served him.
“Excuse me a moment, Master Richard,” he said, glancing at where Mr. Wayne had exited. “I need to speak with Master Bruce.”
He left. Dick took a few large bites of his dessert, waited a minute, then followed.
While the Manor was certainly larger than any house Dick had been in before, five days of being stuck in it had let him quickly memorize which room was which. Dick crept toward the room he knew was Mr. Wayne’s office, which had the muffled sounds of an argument well in-progress.
“But a boarding school, Master Bruce?”
“It’s safer than Gotham,” he says. Dick can almost imagine his stoic, unkind face as he says it.
“It is halfway across the globe.”
“It’s an international school, so they speak English in the classes.”
“That is not the point, Master Bruce. You took Master Richard in to give him a home, just like you took all of your other children in.”
“I took him in to protect him.”
“And you shall do that halfway across the globe?”
“He is safer there than here, Alfred. I will not allow him to stay here, where it’s still so unsafe, not after… ”
“You are still his guardian, Master Bruce. You have a responsibility to him.”
“They were all against me taking him in. And tonight, he noticed the limp… I can’t let him stay, Alfred.”
Alfred must have said something in response, but Dick had heard enough. As quietly as he could, he slipped away, walking as though he was on a tightrope: carefully, delicately, with as little noise as possible.
Evidently, whatever argument Alfred had made in his stead was ineffective in the face of Bruce Wayne’s… everything, as the very next morning Dick was once again packing up his small set of belongings (mostly stuff that Alfred had bought for him) and was set to fly off to Beijing, China that night.
Dick hadn’t even lasted a whole week.
-
Boarding school was everything Dick hated. The days were long, filled with back-to-back classes then followed up with mandatory extracurriculars. By the time Dick had any time to himself, it was already dark out, and he was stuck inside his tiny dorm room.
Despite the fact that Wayne Manor was so, so empty, and Alfred was busy enough with his own duties that he could only spare a few hours with him at a time, and that the Wayne family didn’t even want him around, Dick still found himself missing it. His teachers were unsympathetic to his troubles with reading English, simply assigning him more work when it was clear he wasn’t understanding the material. He was placed in a dorm room with three other boys who seemed intent on ignoring his presence. Everyone around him was either too caught up in their own lives to care about the weird new kid or too impatient to help him acclimate.
As such, it was only two weeks into the new school that he was given his first detention. He had been restless in class, unused to the long period of inactivity, and was told off multiple times for “making too much noise.” His English teacher threatened to call his guardian, which momentarily solved the problem, but Dick couldn’t help himself. He felt like his insides were going to explode if he didn’t move.
The principal’s office wasn’t all that different from the other rooms at school. However, Dick would quickly become well-acquainted with its insides, as it seemed that, for as much as Dick hated boarding school, boarding school hated him even more.
What’s worse was that every call back to his guardian was answered by Alfred, who never got angry at Dick. He would simply sigh and apologize for his behavior, as though it was his fault instead of Mr. Wayne’s that Dick was halfway across the globe and causing trouble. At first, his disappointment was enough of a deterrent to get Dick to force his way through classes and boring extracurriculars for a day or two, but after the third or fourth unanswered call, the boarding school realized that calling home would do him no good.
And so, Dick was acquisitioned to help clean up the classrooms after school, cutting into his “free time.” At least his Mandarin was improving, as the cleaning staff only spoke minimal English.
Truthfully, he couldn’t have cared less, if not for the fact that his new duties quickly reached the ears of his classmates. After the news dropped, it seemed like it was the goal of the whole school to make as much of a mess as possible. Even during class, when Dick wasn’t assigned to clean, people would leave behind their trash or spill their drinks and then ask him to clean it up.
Once winter break rolled around, Dick was ready for the comfort of having his own room again. The boys in his dorm had begun to threaten Dick if he didn’t clean their room by himself, so he was ready to be in the solace of a place that, if not friendly, was at least not openly harmful.
Except, just a few days before break, Mr. Wayne called him for the first time in months.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” he said, voice pitched low. If he wasn’t a celebrity, Dick wasn’t sure he would even remember what his face looked like. “This is our first Christmas without… I mean, I don’t think the Manor would be a very exciting place to be. I already discussed with Principal Chang about having you stay over the break, as an exception. You could also invite some friends to stay with you as well.”
His words, while delivered softly, left no room for disagreement, and neither did they imply that Mr. Wayne had heard anything about his disciplinary troubles.
Dick went to nod, before realizing it was a phone call. “Sure,” he said, feeling the sympathetic eyes of the principal’s receptionist on him. Her name was Mrs. Zhou, and she was perhaps the only person at the school who didn’t outright ignore or hate him.
“I knew you’d understand,” Mr. Wayne said, and Dick felt a twinge of hatred swell in him. “I’ll have Alfred ship your presents to the dorm, of course, but I think that, unfortunately, Christmas Day will be a bit… ”
“What about New Year’s?” Dick asked, feeling much smaller than his four feet, nine and a half inches. “Can I… ”
“We’ll be a bit busy with the New Year’s Gala,” Mr. Wayne said. “But I’ll see what we can do.”
Who’s we, Dick wondered. The other four of your kids who didn’t want me around? Or you and Alfred?
“Alright,” Dick said. “Bye.”
“Goodbye, Richard,” Mr. Wayne said, then hung up.
At least during the break he was able to finally escape his cleaning duties and his peer’s harassment. Principal Change seemed to have grown a heart after talking with Mr. Wayne, and even helped Dick make up an excuse about why he was staying later as everyone else left campus. Mr. Wayne sent him an even more sizable allowance (there were more zeros than Dick knew what to do with) for the break, but all Dick did was sit in his dorm and eat shitty convenience store food.
Christmas Day, Mrs. Zhou surprised him with a cake and a takeout container full of homemade food. She had to get home to her own family, but wished him a Merry Christmas. Alfred’s own text came a few minutes afterwards.
He ended up calling Alfred for half an hour on New Year’s Day, between the butler’s preparations for the big Wayne Gala. A few times Dick would catch glimpses or sounds of other people, but nobody else showed up for the call.
The rest of the school year went similarly to the first half. Spring break was spent roaming the streets of Beijing, buying whatever caught his eye. He ended up spending tens of thousands of yuan, but no text came from Mr. Wayne or Alfred to limit his spending.
By the time the school year was wrapping up, Dick was half expecting Mr. Wayne found a way to keep him at the school for the summer, but no call came. He sped through his exams, wanting out of school as quickly as possible.
But, just three days before break, Jeremy Truden (the kid who found out about his cleaning punishments and subsequently leaked it to the school) made a comment about his parents. It must have been innocuous, just a passing observation of his lack of them, but Dick, having been through nine straight months of bullying, snapped.
At least he got out of school early.
His next stint at Wayne Manor lasted a whole two weeks, this time. Once again, Alfred was the main person he saw, and the old butler seemed content with ignoring the fact that he got at least three calls a week regarding Dick’s behavior.
But on his eighth day back, he did get to meet Cassandra Cain, the last of Mr. Wayne’s children. She was back from her own break, and took one look at him before immediately exiting.
Somehow, it was better than Tim’s introduction.
His next school, this time in Cyprus, turned out to be year-round. There were four breaks spread out through the year, each two weeks long, but no extended leave.
This time, it took a month for him to reach full delinquent status. But not even the cool delinquent status. No, he was the bullyable, not smart rough to even sit through one fifty minute class, type of delinquent.
He lasted for about six months before Dick was riding back to Gotham, bags packed. He spent two tense days at home with an injured Mr. Wayne (“Worksite accident,” he said, “For our new building.”), a cautious Cass (who only stared at him, then proceeded to avoid him every chance she got), and a disappointed Alfred.
Then it was Japan, which quickly devolved into more… physical forms of bullying. Tacks in his shoes, throwing out his stuff, taking only his desk out of the classroom…
It took him only three months to crack again.
After that it was Brazil (five months), Lagos (four months), Latvia (two months), Saudi Arabia (three months)…
No matter where he went, there seemed to be an endless stream of uncaring adults and hateful children.
It was just a few hours after landing back in Gotham, bag still unpacked, and halfway through an awkward dessert with Damian, Tim, and Mr. Wayne, that his guardian drops the news.
“This one may be your last chance,” Mr. Wayne said. “There’s only so many strings I can pull.”
Then don’t pull them, Dick thought. Let me go back to Haley’s. Let me reunite with my family.
Let me fly again.
“He means don’t fuck it up,” Tim said, arms crossed.
“Language, Master Timothy.”
“Just… try, okay?” Mr. Wayne said, rubbing his index and thumb over the bridge of his nose. It had only been three years since Dick had arrived, yet his wrinkles were far more pronounced than they were before, and small strands of grey were peaking through his once thick black mane.
“Okay,” Dick said. “I’ll try.”
And try he did. Two months in, his teacher’s first report back to Mr. Wayne was that Dick Grayson was “a model student: quiet, studious, and attentive, but could stand to be a bit more outgoing with other students. A bit of a loner, and is behind on a few classes, so remedial lessons may be required.”
Three months after his remedial lessons start, Dick Grayson packs a bag (two sets of clothes, toiletries, flashlight, and a wad of cash), and disappears.
A month later, an investigation from local authorities comes up blank. A rebellious rich delinquent running away, they state. Unfortunate, but explainable.
A secondary, much less local investigation finds only a short ten second clip of Richard Grayson being taken off the street by Deathstroke the Terminator. No other information is found.
In Gotham, the press finds out about Richard Grayson’s disappearance. Bruce Wayne refuses to comment. A small stuffed elephant named Zitka sits on an empty bed in Wayne Manor, awaiting its owner.
One week later, Batman runs into a new crime lord calling himself Red Hood.