Disclaimer: DC Comics own these characters, while in “The Chair” by the late Dannell Lites and in No Man’s Land by Greg Rucka, Bruce likes used cocoa as a favorite drink of Bruce and Dick’s. I hope it’s okay I use it. Thanks for the help!
Story Synopsis: Dick comes home during “Starcrossed” to help Bruce, and the feelings they kept buried over their dissolved partnership come to the surface.
“Reaffirming Bonds”
Returning home had become easier in the past few years. The first time was the hardest, after he’d left in a fury of emotional turmoil and a physical confrontation, and Dick Grayson never doubted he was one of the only people who ever landed a punch against the great Dark Knight.
And he knew he was the only one Batman had ever let.
When he finally came home after
five years of traveling, they never spoke about it, never discussed it.
Whatever pain and hurt remained, Dick buried, but he came to terms with it,
with his place in life, in Bludhaven, and more importantly, in
When the aliens began
attacking—again—he gunned his accelerator and rounded the bend from Route One into
He expected Bruce to be sitting at
the Batcomputer, indifferent to his arrival, though his attire—his Bruce Wayne
turtleneck and gray slacks—surprised the younger man as did the casually
dressed Justice League of
“He’s with me, Clark.”
“He’s with you?” John Stewart accused and crossed his arms, his ring glowing a venomous green. “I thought you were a registered loner.”
Dick let a little smile persist onto his lips and unzipped his black leather jacket. After all, despite his years away, he was still one of the only people the Dark Knight allowed close—or as close anyone ever got. “If I knew you were having a party, I would’ve come earlier. Please tell me Alfred is making those mini shrimp rolls.”
Bruce never lifted his head. “Go home, Dick.”
Using his right hand as a pivot, Dick flipped onto the railing next to the Batcomputer and cocked his head to the side. “Ouch. I thought I was home or was the whole ‘Go down to Bludhaven and solve those murderers’ a dismissal from the club?”
“And you are?” Wally zoomed to stand next to Dick, who didn’t at all flinch.
“Richard John Grayson, former circus aerialist and current…” J’onn flashed his eyes at Dick, as his light skin sunk into a deep green and his body once more formed its alien shape. “…associate of Batman.”
“Try ‘son,’ but thanks for the introduction.”
The look of shock that swept through the entire league, especially Wonder Woman, and Dick let out a little chuckle. “Why am I not surprised? So, you’ve never talked about me with your friends, huh? Figures.”
“Nightwing,
right?”
“Adopted, as I’m sure he’ll be quick to tell you.”
Bruce swiveled. “Where are Tim and Barbara?”
“Tim’s at school. I already told him to stay there and keep his classmates in line,” Dick reported, his back straightening slightly to come to attention, sans the salute. “Barbara went to check on her father and help the GCPD. You’re going to have to watch her, or she might actually become legit in this whole hero business.”
“Go to Tim,” Bruce commanded, rising from his seat. “You can do the most there.”
“Wow. After all these years, you decide this is the time to lie to me?” Dick asked, jumping off the railing. Though Bruce had a few inches on him, he was not intimidated. “Those aliens aren’t focused on going after random people yet. They’re after you and the League, and I want to help.”
“Sorry, kid, but not everyone can just join the League, especially rookies,” Stewart said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Dick rolled his eyes before glaring at the Green Lantern. “Mr. Stewart, I’m not looking to join the League. And besides, you’ve only being doing this type of work for two years, right?”
John blinked, obviously caught off guard that Dick knew that. “So?”
“I’m been doing this since I was ten. Who’s the rookie in this equation?”
“You’ve been fighting crime since you were ten?” Superman reiterated, but Bruce cut him off.
“This doesn’t concern you.”
“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m twenty-three. You can’t just dismiss me like I’m twelve again.” He crossed his own arms, making sure to hold in his grimace, and returned Bruce’s scrutinizing glare, realizing how much more intimidating it was when Dick could see actually see the man’s eyes. “I want to help.”
“If he has been trained by you, Bruce, then I’m sure he will be an asset.” Wonder Woman stepped forward to put a hand on Dick’s elbow. “Allow him to accompany us.”
“Thank you for your input, Diana, but please do not encourage him.” Bruce kept his eyes focused on Dick. “What happened to your arm?”
Letting out a sigh, Dick thumbed toward Bruce but looked at the League. “See? This is what I have to put up with all the time.” He shook his head and fought a shrug. “What was it that tipped you off? Using my right arm to balance on the railing instead of my left?”
“That and you’ve been trying to keep a neutral face but failing miserably.”
Dick ruffled his hair, then sighed. “These hawks are better than you give them credit for. If this really isn’t my home, then I’m homeless now.”
Bruce’s eyes never widened, but his face tensed, Dick saw. He was pretty sure the Leaguers didn’t. “What don’t I know?”
“I finally have something on the World’s Greatest Detective. Wish I didn’t, considering…” Dick reached around him to slam on the monitor. His mansion overlooking Bludhaven burned furiously into the night sky, a billow of smoke choking any visibility of the alien spacecrafts.
“The house
is owned by billionaire Bruce Wayne, though its current occupant was said to be
Dick hit off the TV screen. “It’d be great for my twenty-fourth birthday if you could actually put the house in my name, or do you still get a tax break?”
Bruce put a hand on his good shoulder. "Are you all right?”
It took all of Dick’s will power not to shrug. “They tagged me in the shoulder, but I’ve had bullet wounds worse.”
“Does Alfred know?”
“I called him on the way.”
“Good. Let him look at it and then get some rest.”
“Oh, no.” Dick snatched Bruce’s wrist. “You’re going to need help. I’m coming.”
“We’re the League, Dick. We don’t need help.”
“But—”
“We don’t have time for a domestic dispute,” John urged, and in a flash of green, he wore his Green Lantern suit. “We have to get moving before the whole world becomes nothing more than room in space.”
“We’re done,” Bruce commanded before heading toward the costume closet.
“So that’s it?” Dick yelled as the others headed that way, too, though Wonder Woman moved behind the computer console. “You just dismiss me, again? I don’t even get to wash the Batmobile.”
“Now’s not the time to have the conversation, Dick, and I don’t have the time to entertain you,” Bruce shouted back, coming out of the closet without his hood on. “Go.”
“Uh, no.”
“Fine, stay, but if you continue to hassle me, I’ll have Flash run you to the North Pole.”
Dick narrowed his eyes before throwing his hands in the air. “Why do I try? Seriously. No matter what I do, you just won’t let anyone in, even me. Even after all these years. It’s always going to be your way or no way. Well, you know what? I tried. I came back. I swallowed my pride and tried to make this work, but apparently, that’s not going to happen, is it?”
He never looked back as he shouted, “Try not to die!” then situated his bike helmet on his head and hit the accelerator. He left in a fury of a smoke and squealing, with tire marks scuffing the floor.
Flash raced to his side. “Uh, thanks for asking me first.”
“You cannot tell me that how you always deal with him,” Wonder Woman asked, taking down her ponytail and replacing it with her tiara.
Bruce pulled on his cowl. “I needed to.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re here.”
*^*^*
Dick wiped off the photo album, content that only the edges were fringed before putting it in his duffle. It hardly was big enough for a few shirts and a pair of pants, yet it held all his possession left after the fire. He stood once more, just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything in tact or not burned when his cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Grayson? We’d like to confirm a ticket to—”
The cell phone flew from his hands and smashed against the far wall, where a batarang now hung. Dick looked at his hand, flexing it slowly to make sure there was no damage, though he knew there wouldn’t be.
“You could have just said, ‘Excuse—” Dick’s mouth dropped open as Bruce Wayne, not Batman, came from the shadows, his hands tucked into his pockets, his boot heels clicking against the burnt floor.
“I thought I said, ‘No parties’ when I gave you this place.” He popped the younger man’s chin, closing the orifice. “Apparently, you didn’t listen to that.”
Dick’s eyes narrowed and became guarded. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, the mayor’s office wanted to know if I planned to rebuild my son’s house here. Having such a well-known citizen boosts the city’s creditability, and having its own vigilante seems to help the crime rate.” Once Bruce’s eyes surveyed the damage, their hardness softening to a light sky blue, he looked at Dick. “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere
but here—and
“If you would have gone into battle, you could have been killed,” Bruce said as a matter-of-fact.
Dick stopped, if only for a moment, he told himself. “That’s no longer your choice to make.”
“When you are fighting along side me, then it will always be my choice to make.”
“Then, I guess that’s where the line is drawn.” Dick turned halfway around to his adoptive father. “You can’t expect me not to make the same sacrifices you would. I’m not going to sit around and watch you die, Bruce, and you can’t expect me not to take a dismissal as such.”
“Wasn’t that the deal when you first took this job?”
Dick hated when Bruce fought with logic, but then again, times had changed, as much as neither wanted them to have. “Yeah, it was, but again, I’m no longer ten. And I learned that I can’t watch you die, just like you couldn’t watch me.”
Bruce nodded, walking toward an end table where a burnt and distorted frame sat. He lifted up the picture, barely able to make out Dick and Barbara on the boy’s graduation day. “You know me better than anyone, even Alfred, I would dare to say.”
Dick let out a chuckle. “I wouldn’t say that in front of him.”
“He knows.” He put down the picture to look at Dick with calm, trembling eyes. “I wanted to be there.”
“Where…?” Dick looked at the picture, the frame to be precise, then rolled his eyes. “It’s over. That’s not what I’m fighting about.”
“But it’s what started everything, isn’t it?”
Averting his eyes, Dick released a long sigh and tried to hold back the tears. “Just because I understand your thinking doesn’t mean I agree with it. Just because I know my graduation isn’t as important as another person’s life—it never was…It doesn’t mean that still wouldn’t have wanted my father there. And I know you said you would never try to be my father,” Dick continued with a ruffle of his hair, “but you know that’s how I regard you. I’d like to think that I’m your son, but sometimes I think that’s just to make sure your stock will be in competent hands.”
“Dick—”
“But if you do feel that way, if I am your son, then why aren’t I a priority?” He threw his duffle bag to the ground and stalked forward. “Why don’t you make me one? Why must the streets always come first?”
Bruce held his angered glare, barely blinking, before his hand reached up to cup Dick by the side of his face. “I came to tell you how hard those three years were after you left, and I would rather hear your sarcasm every day rather than lose it forever.”
Dick looked down at the hand, felt the heat radiating from its position before he threw it off and stormed back toward his duffle. “You have Tim now and Barbara, too. You don’t need me anymore.”
“Tim is headstrong, too impatient. Barbara is…complicated.”
“So, I’m the most convenient. Is that it?”
“No. If anything, you are the hardest to deal with,” Bruce replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you’re the one I continually keep losing.”
Stopping, the younger man drew his lower lip into his mouth before pivoting. “So, what are you saying?”
“Why do you think I didn’t let you come with the Justice League?”
“According to you, it was because you couldn’t entertain me.” The words felt dirty coming from his mouth, but Bruce had said them.
The older man came forward to rest a hand on the boy’s forearm. “Then you weren’t listening. If you don’t realize what you mean to me by now, then you’re not the detective I trained you to be. I…” He braced himself, drawing Dick closer to say, “There are some things I am willing to give to save this world, but you are not one of them, son. If you don’t like that, then that is your problem. Not mine.”
With that, Bruce squeezed Dick’s shoulder once more and walked passed the younger man, allowing his words to sink in.
Dick continued to stare where Bruce stood, realization flooding him. He knew it, years ago when they worked side-by-side, and the streets had become Dick’s second home. But time strained their bond, and his college graduation had been the final straw. Dick needed assurance, and what his return began to mend, Bruce’s words now made whole.
Snatching his duffle off the ground, Dick raced out of the house, hoping to catch Bruce before he left. Of course, the older man leaned back against the hood of his car Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder—black.
“In the next house, I would appreciate you not throwing wild parties that break out into infernos. I can just imagine the tabloids.”
Dick’s mouth perked into his usual smile. “You owe me a cell phone.”
“Is that all?”
“No, probably not, but then again, I probably owe you more than you owe me, so I guess we can call it even.” Opening the door to the car, he shucked his duffle inside. “You mind if bunk on your couch for a couple days? That wild party makes my house a little unmanageable, and the firefighters couldn’t stop the blaze.”
“It’ll be a little longer than a few days,” Bruce corrected, motioning toward the builders on a nearby cliff. “I took your advice and put the house in your name this time.”
*^*^*
“Teleporter on: Incoming from
“Do I want to know how you have the access code?”
“You really mean, ‘How the hell did you get my code?’ And you know what? I’m not telling.”
Batman rose his stern eyes from the scanners to meet his son’s eyes reflected in the glass. His firm expression was even evident under the cowl. “You should be wearing your uniform up here.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Dick replied. He let out a soft whistle once he stood before the console. “Nice view. Too bad you can’t see the Rockefeller Christmas Tree.”
“If you wanted Christmas cheer, you should be back at the Manor.”
Dick snorted. “Please, and listen to Tim whine to Alfred about having to wait for you to come home to open presents? No thanks. I figured I’d just hang up here and keep you company.”
“You mean annoy me.”
“Toe-mate-toe, toe-mott-toe.” Dick dropped his bookbag to the console, ignoring Batman’s disapproving eyes and lifted his feet onto the computer, crossing his legs at the ankles. “I still don’t understand why you insist on monitor duty twenty-four-seven-three-six-five. It’s Christmas, Bruce. I think criminals even celebrate with their families.”
“Tell that to the Joker.”
“Even the
Joker wouldn’t make enough news for the Justice League, and our rounds through
“Dick—”
“I know. I know.” Dick reached up and opened his bookbag, taking out two thermoses. “Alfred sent these with me as a last resort.” He poured out the contents of the first into two cups, allowing the hot chocolate smell to waft into his nostrils. The second he pointed to. “That’s turkey noodle soup, made from the bird Alfred made for dinner tonight. It’s an initiative to get you down earlier. Oh, he wanted me to remind you that the Gordons will be there by seven, so he wants us home before they arrive.”
Dick stared out the window, watching as Batman pulled off his cowl and took the cup left for him. He waited, content to simply sit in silence and watch as the Earth passed underneath.
Finally, Bruce broke the silence. “Aren’t you going to ask me when my shift’s over?”
Dick shook his head. “Nope.”
…
“You don’t care?”
“Are you going to kick me out?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
More minutes passed in silence. “Did you speak with the builders?”
“Yes.”
“Did you decide on the fifth bedroom or—”
“I told them to stop building.”
“Dick—”
“The only reason I took the other house was because it was already built. I can handle my own finances, Bruce. I don’t need Bat-Daddy to build me everything. Besides, I already have an apartment.”
Bruce scoffed and hit a few buttons. The apartment building came up on the viewer screen, bricks falling off and homeys hanging outside. “That is not an apartment. It’s a—”
“You’ve been spying on me?” Pointed an accusing finger at Bruce, the younger man tried to speak until he finally just sighed and leaned back in his chair. There was no point in fighting. “It’s what I can afford, and it is what I will afford.”
“If you would have just taken the job in the Wayne Enterprises branch down there instead of that bartending—”
“Bruce, you might have missed this little fact, but it’s my life.”
“And this is what you do with a Bachelor of Science with high honors.”
Dick rolled his eyes and took a sip of his cocoa. “Do you have to control everything? Can one thing be mine in my life and not yours?”
“That’s two questions.” Bruce met the man’s insistent glare then hit off the apartment. “Fine, but this is your one thing.”
“Thank you,” Dick amused, then sat back in his chair. “And by the way, controlling everything is someone’s life in not normal.”
“Tell that to every father.”
A comfortable silence once more overtook the two as they sipped their drinks and simply watched the world spin.
Then: “Do remember that Christmas
we spent in the
Dick snorted into his cocoa. “I don’t think we made it home until after the New Year.”
“But Alfred kept the tree up.”
“And the lights all around the Manor and even the holly smell.” He shook his head. “But that wasn’t the worst.”
“Name one.”
“
Bruce spared the boy a glare. “We weren’t even in a prison.”
“No, but we were being hunted by those crazed maniacs with—what was it again?”
And that was how Superman found them a little over two hours later, still undecided about which Christmas was worse but in agreement it wasn’t the present one.
The End