dick grayson

“You’re sweet,” she told him. “Do you want to sit? I thought the moon was beautiful today. A good day for practicing magic.” She hummed, sensing that he might be uncomfortable as he side-stepped her dagger and watched her. He didn’t sit, he didn’t seem to feel like he belonged. Her head cocked before she pushed to her feet. “Or we can go somewhere else. Somewhere less… loaded.” As long as she wasn’t leaving, her mind would let her do anything she wanted. If she tried to leave, however, then it became more complicated. Her powers pushed back, containing her and creating their own reality, confusing her with glimpses of every other reality as well. Still, she could offer Dick whatever he liked. She owed him that much.

For all that she was struggling, she still wanted to be supportive of Bruce’s children if they would have her, even if she couldn’t properly give them back their father. She could break the world for it. She had done it with Pietro before. But Bruce wouldn’t want that. At least, she didn’t think. It didn’t make his absence any more difficult. And there was even this lingering sense that he was here. That he must be here. He didn’t feel gone and yet he was.

Wanda’s offer released the little tension that remained and Dick shook his head, quickly reaching out to touch her arm. “No, we don’t have to go, I just didn’t want to interrupt.” It seemed intrusive to appear in her private world, without any real invitation, although he knew Wanda could have barred his entry if she wanted. That wasn’t the point, though. He didn’t want to be disrespectful. “It’s beautiful. Not just the moon... all of it.” It made him think again to that game of laser tag, how much fun Wanda had, and certainly one of the few times he’d ever seen Bruce smile. 

“Not yet. Decided to raid the fridge. I didn’t figure anybody else would be touching anything and you know Al has this thing stocked.” The last thing Jason was going to do was skip a meal because he was…what..? Was he even upset? Theoretically, probably, but he didn’t feel anything right then, and didn’t particularly want to start. It wasn’t like it was going to undo anything, so getting stuck in it didn’t do shit for anybody, least of all him. He knew what happened when he let that get the better of him. They all knew what happened when he let that get the better of him.

He pulled out a random assortment of things - cheese, deli meats, whatever was the easiest to grab, and sat down at one of the stools at the never-used counter. As he rolled up a piece of turkey and popped it into his mouth, he nodded toward the two phones. “Not even you need two. Is that one Bruce’s?” Jason nearly reached for it, but thought better of it and went back to his food instead. No irradiated midnight snack for him. 

-

Normally Dick might have snatched some of the lunch meat for himself, but he didn’t particularly feel like eating right then. Even though Jason seemed to be taking Bruce’s death well, on the outside at least, he knew better than to think he was unaffected. They all experienced grief differently. He definitely couldn’t claim to have the healthiest coping mechanisms, but he worried much more about the others. Tim was quiet, Jason was asking like it was just another Tuesday afternoon, and he dreaded leaving Damian alone for long.

“Yeah. It’s safe. He didn’t have it on him.” Bruce’s phone had been left locked up back at the base of operations, an unnecessary precautionary measure that only Bruce would take. Of course it ended up working out perfectly for them. The thought made Dick smile. 

It would take a while for his new phone to update. There was a brief, tense hesitation, but then he picked up Bruce’s phone and powered it on. “Might as well,” he mumbled, even though he could already feel his chest getting heavy. “I’m guessing a couple thousand contacts. Approximately.”

“’Course,” he answered. Of course he had come. Bruce was dead, and Steve was worried about the League, but Dick was also a friend. In a sense. He hadn’t cut it as a cop for very long, but it was because his life had fallen down around his ears for a while. But that was something that would always be a possibility for Steve. As Captain America, his extracurriculars meant that it was really a full time job. Still, Dick had been a friend through some difficult things. He recalled, for example, what it had been like when Bucky had nearly strangled him. Dick hadn’t asked questions. He’d just been around. Now Steve wanted to be around. 

“That’s not why I came,” he told Dick. “You’re not wrong,” he said. “But I came to check in on you.” He shook his head, running a hand over the back of his neck. “You lost something more than the League and Batman.” His entire family had. Would Dick allow them to deviate? To focus on being there for one another instead?

It’d only taken one meeting with Steve for Dick to relate to him, even in small ways, and he had a great deal of respect for him as a person - and as a leader. Steve had been a good cop, but juggling a career in law enforcement and vigilantism wasn’t exactly easy. 

Steve had also been willing and able to work with Bruce, a feat considering Bruce’s tendency to isolate. Most of all, Steve hadn’t judged Dick for what happened at NOVA Headquarters. He’d kept the knowledge of what was on that disk drive to himself, and Dick would always be grateful for that.

Although Steve wasn’t the first person to check on him after Bruce’s death, it hit different coming from him. Typically, Dick deflected a bit, focused on other things, other issues, and he experienced his own emotions privately. But he didn’t have the option to isolate this time, he was needed here, and it was a struggle to stay in check. He wasn’t good at shoving his emotions down for very long. Even when he tried, they could always be read on his face. “I’m...” The word caught in his throat. He would probably choke if he tried to force himself to say it, because he wasn’t truly fine.

“That’s quite alright, Master Dick.” Alfred inclined his head, the perfectly pressed suit concealed very well that he’d yet to retire himself or take any form of rest since the previous evening. “In truth, I’m quite surprised all the others managed to stay within for so long.” He’d expected to be met with more resistance as immediate demands for satisfaction were made but, thankfully, they’d heeded his request. It was one less thing to worry about as he’d begun making other arrangements.

“Yes, I thought it best to be proactive regarding the media.” Alfred placed down the documents he’d been carrying, Wayne Enterprises documents Lucius had sent over, onto the table in the kitchen. “They will no doubt try to hound the affair but I have made arrangements in Gotham for a simple affair and a reception at Wayne Manor.” Master Bruce would be put to rest beside his parents in the family cemetery.

“I will ensure encrypted invitations to various persons who should attend are sent out in coming days.” he added, standing tall, hands now clasped behind his back. “My next duty, Sir, was to begin attending to Master Bruce’s immediate effects.” he paused a moment, “Should you wish you are welcome to do so with me?” Of course he’d not force it if Master Dick felt too raw for such a thing.  

-

That made Dick smile faintly. “Me too.” When was the last time everyone had been under one roof? At the same time? Thanksgiving, maybe, but if so, it hadn’t been for long. People wouldn’t exactly call them a tight knit family, although he’d personally disagree. Just because they had their problems didn’t mean he couldn’t count on every single one of them to have his back. 

He looked down at the documents, sighing softly, but nodded as he scanned the first page. “Who’s going to be invited?” It was hard to imagine Alfred doing a big ceremony, but he knew Bruce had been a public figure. Taking a deep breath, he flipped to the next document. “I’ll fly out to Gotham tomorrow. I can talk to the lawyers and get all the paperwork squared away with Wayne Enterprises.” It would be better if he went. The press would be on Alfred like white on rice. Of course, they’d get word that the oldest Wayne kid was in Gotham, but he could still keep his business discrete - especially if he stayed in Bludhaven. “Tim and Jason should be fine without me for a few days.” He hesitated. “The three of us are going to wear the cowl.”

As soon as Alfred posed the question, Dick felt his insides grow cold. He hadn’t touched Bruce’s things when he’d “died” the first time, although he’d gone in his room. Talked to him. It was strange to dread something so fully and yet want to do it. “Yeah, Alf. I’ll help. Lead the way.”

Some part of him had known that he could not avoid Bruce’s family forever. He owed them more than that. Even if his condolences were worthless, saying nothing was worse. Still, knowing that and working up the will to do it had not aligned yet by the time the knock sounded on the door and he heard Lois speaking with a familiar face. His heart sank and he’d have sworn he could feel it in his stomach instead.

Everything just then seemed to be upside down. Not only was Bruce dead, which was surely the worst of it, but people had been killed on Liberty Bridge. Even the deaths of the NOVA agents were a burden that weighed on him. It wasn’t as if he’d wanted that end for them; Clark didn’t kill. Plenty of those people had been there doing menial work, and even if they hadn’t been, even if it was the people making the very decisions that made the agency such a threat, he wouldn’t have wanted them dead for it. Yet they were. They were, right alongside his best friend and Dick’s father. Lucy was gone, too. He suspected that he’d never see her again. 

He got to his feet, leaving the desk that he’d been sitting at doing absolutely nothing. It seemed somehow preferable to the couch or, worse still, simply being in bed. The last thing he wanted to do was feel sorry for himself when everything that had happened felt so much like his own fault. 

“Dick…” he swallowed. He had no idea where to begin. Dick was his friend on top of everything else. Their relationship was as important to him as anything. He couldn’t help but think that what happened would take that, too, and he couldn’t even blame him if that was the case. “I know an apology doesn’t mean anything,” he made himself start, “but I am more sorry than you could ever believe.” 

The bond Dick felt with Clark went deep. When he was a kid, before Haly’s Circus and Robin and his life was derailed by fighting crime, Superman had been his hero. Not Batman. The stories about the Kryptonian in Metropolis would reach him, camped out in whatever city they were performing in that week, and Dick would be fascinated. His first time on the flying trapeze, even under the bright lights and gasps of the crowd, he pretended he was Superman. That was where he’d drawn his strength and his courage, even before he had the honor of calling him a friend. Mentor. Father-figure. Because Clark had been all those things - and more. 

It was devastating to see him like this, broken and guilt-ridden over something that hadn’t been his fault. Even if he had pressed the button that ended Bruce’s life, Dick knew the circumstances, he would never hold him responsible for what he’d done under the effect of Joker’s twisted toxin. 

“Of course. They’re part of this family too.” Grant smiles while looking over at Dick as they sit on the end of his bed together. He cares about these dogs very much since his return and wouldn’t dare think about leaving them behind if they were evacuating. He reaches out and scratches Sasha’s fur before pulling his hand back to rest in his lap. The idea of being blown up didn’t sit right with him in the moment and it still doesn’t here and now. “No need to apologize. You didn’t know and did what you could with the information available.” Grant is used to situations like this but when news about what happened to Bruce Wayne reached him … he couldn’t believe it. Which only surprised him even more that Dick came here to check on him of all people.

“Are you worried about me? I promise that I’m alright.” Grant nudges the other with his elbow gently. He doesn’t want it to be all about himself though. He turns a little on the mattress to face the other man. “I heard about what happened to Bruce. I’m so sorry.”

-

Dick knew Grant was right. The league had been given every reason to think the bomb was underneath Star City. There was no way to anticipate the events that unfolded, but hindsight was always 20/20. He was feeling pretty stupid about a lot of things he did and didn’t do. It was difficult not to linger on them, especially because making a different choice could have resulted in Bruce still being alive. “I know it could have been a lot worse.” There were casualties from the bridge too, but that was a far cry from decimating the population of an entire city. 

“I’m just checking in. Want to make sure there’s nothing I should be worrying about. Joey told me a little about Daken.” The mention of Bruce made Dick pause, but he nodded in acknowledgment and managed a faint smile. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

It had been a shame to lose Dick Grayson as a detective and an officer. He’d been good at his job, before all of the external conflicts made it impossible to continue. Dick had done them the favor of resigning before Jim had to ask him to. Still, he’d often thought about how he wished it had turned out differently. It was difficult to find people to trust even to do the basics of their jobs, let alone in any higher capacity. Jim had high expectations of people, but he was always willing to work with them to get there. There was no undoing what had been done, though, not when it came to any of the circumstances that had led them to that moment.

Jim shook his hand. Along with Batman’s identity had come all the other ones, too. Dick Grayson as Nightwing, Jason Todd as the damned Red Hood, Tim Drake as Red Robin, so on and so on. He still ignored much of that and compartmentalized. He wasn’t there for Detective Grayson or Nightwing. Jim was there for the young man who’d just lost his father. It didn’t matter that he’d been adopted. It mattered that he’d lost two sets of parents, now, at an age before anyone ought to lose even one.

“How are you holding up, son?” 

Jim always had a unique position when it came to his place in the family. He was connected to Babs and to Bruce closely. It was strange to think that Jim might not have even known how involved he really was with their family until later. Their identities had created a shitstorm that would have been much worse to handle, had they not had NOVA to distract the SCPD. Vigilantism was outlawed at the time, but there had been bigger fish to fry. Leaving the department still seemed like the best choice. Maybe it was even something he should have done sooner, if only to preserve Gordon’s reputation. Having a vigilante on staff didn’t usually scream professionalism. 

[ @amazingflyingdick ]

It’d been too long since Chris had last seen Dick. Of course they’d chat every now and then, but it wasn’t the same — and now with Bruce Wayne’s death, it seemed all the more imperative to reach out. 

He knew what it was like to lose a parent. How it settled in the crevices of the body and nestled in, the grief nurtured by the loss and the memories and the almosts. Chris would catch himself wanting to ask for his mother whenever he and his dad would catch up, to see how she was doing. Or he’d want to share something he saw, but always stopped himself short. It was painful to have to go through that day in and day out, even if death was expected in the end — he figured that Dick could use a break, at least.

Chris loitered by the front of Dick’s place having already rapped his knuckles against the wood; he messaged him that he was in the area in the hopes that he was free and willing. If not, that was fine too.

Chris was the only cop, other than Jim, that Dick still maintained regular contact with once he left the force. He considered him to be a good friend, not just a partner. He’d been great to work with, too. They always seemed to be on the same page. He’d even thought, more than once, that Chris would have made a good vigilante. 

When he found out that he was a mutant, he kept it to himself. He knew others knew, but no one was going to say anything while NOVA still held sway over the city. It was too dangerous, especially because he didn’t think Chris even lived in District X. He had no protection, no team to back him, and this was starting to give Dick an idea.