Chapter Text
“GO TO FUCKING HELL, YOU SON OF A BITCH—”
“QUIT BLAMING ME FOR YOUR OWN INADEQUACIES—”
“OH, FANCY. YOU WANNA FUCKING GO—”
Dick sighs. Tim’s heading back to camp in an hour—Bruce is dropping him off in New York and he’s meeting Rachel there. And. Rachel. Fuck.
“I’m gonna—” Dick gestures to the doorway, and Bruce gives him a tired nod.
Dick hurries away, rubbing his temple. He loves his brothers, he really does, but dear lord they are loud. He makes his way through the halls, sighing in relief as the voices get fainter the further he walks. Eventually he comes to stop, sinking down onto the bench he’d had placed.
He gazes over the equipment that Bruce had had installed for him, as a child, so he could keep up his training (the equipment he’d replicated for his secret gym below Titan’s Tower), and tries not to slip into a flashback. He can’t—he’s had enough of crying. He’s had enough of spiraling and second-guessing himself and he just wants to breathe.
He takes out the package, the unassuming brown wrapping hiding something. It feels normal, all things considered. He turns it over in his hands, the only thing standing out being his name—Apollo written in fancy lettering.
He keeps turning it over for a while, just staring, but…well. He can’t not open it. So he prepares to rip it open, when—
“Dick!”
Dick bites back a swear and shoves the package back in his pocket. “Donna!” he exclaims, turning to his best friend, getting up and throwing his arms around her. “What are you doing here?”
“Diana and Clark are ‘discussing’ something with Bruce,” she says, rolling her eyes, “so I decided to tag along. Babs mentioned you’d be here.”
“You and Babs are a terrifying image,” he tells her, stepping back and keeping a hand in hers. Donna laughs, bright and clear, and by all the gods, Dick’s missed her. “It’s been way too long, holy shit.”
“It really has been,” Donna agrees, eyes as bright as her laugh was. “You’ve gotta catch me up! What’s the family drama this time? Did someone get kidnapped? Is there a secret meta?”
“Ah,” Dick says, blinking. “Not…quite.”
“Dick,” Donna says, clasping her hands to his cheeks and staring him in the eyes, “Dick, what the hell does that mean.”
“So you know how Diana’s dad is…well, Zeus?”
“Kinda hard to forget, yeah.”
“So. It turns out that…Tim and Steph are—there’s other gods with kids?”
“Demigods,” Donna breathes. Her hands fall to her sides. “Oh. Oh, of course.”
Dick tilts his head. “Hm?”
“I…” she sighs, tugging him down to the chair. It’s not quite big enough for two people, but they make do. “Politics suck.”
“ Politics?”
“Yep,” she says. “Did you know gods have politics?” Yes. Yes he does know, considering he’s been at the center of it. They fucking suck.
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish,” she groans. “So—you said Tim and Steph?”
Dick nods. “They’ve been at this camp for the past few days—Tim’s going back soon, he’s only here because the league was here yesterday.”
Donna winces. “Everyone okay?”
“Mostly?” Dick shrugs. “Tim got slightly stabbed, and Jason has a few cracked ribs, but it’s pretty fine otherwise.”
“Yeah, sorry, I don’t trust your definition of ‘fine’.”
“Donna,” Dick gripes. “Seriously?”
“One time you said you were fine and then passed out less than half an hour later,” she says flatly. Dick boos her. She smirks and flicks his forehead, and he groans and lets his head fall on her shoulder. “Anyway, godly politics.”
“Ooh, right, spill,” he wheedles, a smirk on his face. Internally? Well. He’s curious as to what an outsider’s perspective on what happened is like, but he also really just wants to not think about it—which is impossible with the package sitting stubbornly inside his pocket and Tim still in the house.
Donna chuckles and concedes. “Well, I don’t know how much you know about demigods—”
“Just what Tim’s told us so far,” Dick says. “Something about a huge war a few years back, and a ban on kids?”
“The big three,” Donna nods, running through an explanation. “A few years back, one of them—Percy Jackson—made them all promise to claim their kids.”
“Have they?”
Donna shrugs. “There’s definitely been more claims, but who knows if that’s actually all of them.”
Dick lets out a breath. She’s right; although there’s certainly been an influx of claimed demigods, that’s not nearly all of them. He’s been trying, Hermes too—he knows Demeter as well, who, as well as Apollo himself, has a good record of claiming her kids, has been putting in more effort.
Of course, there are some that don’t try (cough ares cough) but for the most part, the war was a wakeup call for them. Mostly. For them sans Zeus.
“Gods are fickle,” Dick mutters. “It goes all the way back to the original myths.”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “I just wish they’d actually care for once.” Dick squeezes her hand sympathetically. “Anyway. So you know the myth of when Poseidon and Apollo got turned human?”
“And they had to work for a mortal king and build a wall, right?” Dick knows. Oh, he knows. Punished for no reason except to feed Zeus’s ego. Oh, sure, Uncle Poseidon was punished for the coup, but Apollo? He wasn’t even part of it. He had no part in it, and yet.
“The walls of Troy,” Donna confirms. “Yeah. Basically: he did the same thing, just without Poseidon.”
“Turned a god mortal?”
“Turned a god human.”
“...Huh.”
“Apollo,” Donna goes on, “was being punished for his part in a prophecy—which is really dumb because he doesn’t actually control the prophecies, he just gives them—in the second Gigantomachy when the Fates interfered. They did…something, I’m not sure—no one is, actually, except Apollo himself,” (ha, he thinks, no i don’t, i’m as clueless as the rest of you all), “and he disappeared for a year before showing up at a meeting between the gods and a few of their children.”
“What happened to him?” Dick asks, frowning a little. Gods, he’s so fucked, isn’t he.
“Well, he—what’s that?”
Dick blinks at her, and she tilts her head down to the brown sticking out of his pocket. Her sharp eyes narrow, and Dick swears internally when he realizes that Apo is visible.
“Just something that came in earlier,” he says nonchalantly. Donna raises an eyebrow. Dammit. Dammit. Should he tell her? He can’t brush it off, she won’t believe him, and it’s Donna. But she’ll be mad at him for not telling, but is that better or worse than keeping it a secret?
“Dick.”
“Donna.”
She sighs, and he manages to keep from cringing, somehow.
“Hey,” she says, catching his wrist. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Wally said you seemed off,” she says, “and then there was that new vigilante you patrolled with? And that—” she nods to the package. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I—yeah, of course,” he answers. Her eyes are so, so soft and he doesn’t deserve it. She’s too good for him. Too good to him.
“Then tell me what’s been going on,” she says, eyes pleading and soft and fuck, but Dick is so weak to Donna.
“I…”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she wheedles, “not even Bruce.”
Dick laughs at that, gets off the chair, and runs a hand through his hair. ”It’s. Um. Complicated,” he says with a wince. “Please don’t be mad?”
“Why would I…” she trails off when Dick flickers, hair going from black to gold and back to black, skin darkening to a surfer’s tan and settling back into his white-passing brown. He smiles weakly at Donna, who had closed her open mouth and had turned to staring at him.
He bites the inside of his cheek, already regretting it. “I—”
“What the fuck,” she says blankly. Dick winces again. “What the fuck, Dick, holy shit.”
“Sorry?”
“ Don’t—” she cuts off with a frustrated groan, pacing back and forth. Dick opens his mouth, but she cuts him off with a sharp glare, and his jaw snaps close. “I am. So fucking furious.”
Dick cringes, stuffing his hands in his pocket and fingering the package (what is it he wants to know he wants to see ).
“Not—” Donna sighs and walks over to Dick and engulfs him in a hug, and he stands there, frozen, until she tugs his arms around her and he remembers how to breathe. “Not at you,” she murmurs softly. “Never at you, I promise.”
Dick snorts, and she chuckles. “Tell that to fifteen-year-old me.”
“When it’s not warranted,” she corrects with an eye-roll. “I’m not mad at you. Swear.”
“Then—”
“Your dad,” Donna says, pulling back so she can look him in the eyes. “It’s—fuck him, seriously, what the fuck—”
And Dick can’t help it.
He bursts out laughing, doubling over with a wheeze. He wraps his arms around his middle and laughs 'til he cries and then Donna is laughing a little too, hurrying to lower them both to the floor. His eyes hurt and his head throbs and it’s the best he’s felt since this whole thing started.
“No,” he gasps, “no—no fucking him, he's got enough people to fuck—”
Donna wheezes, and Dick lets his head fall onto her shoulder with a dull thud . Gods, has he missed her.
“Jesus, Dick,” she breathes, and Dick chokes on something that might have been a laugh or a sob.
“Wrong religion,” he says with a small smirk. It falls a little flat, though, when some of his exhaustion seeps through his words. He's so tired. He wishes none of this had ever happened. He just wants to be a—well, not normal, per se, but…gods, he wants to be mortal and able to exist with his family without fear of discovery or retaliation or anything worse.
“Hey,” she says, grasping his hand and gentling her voice, “breathe. It's okay.”
“It's not,” he objects, because he doesn't think it'll ever be okay again (if it ever was), but he concedes to her, letting his chest rise and fall to the beat of her heart.
“Maybe,” she says, “but you're here, aren't you?”
“My entire existence is a lie,” he says flatly, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Because it's true. His existence as him, as Richard Grayson? It is a living breathing falsehood that tastes of bitterness and ash. He, the god of truth, made to lie and deceive who his very being is. Could there have been a more fitting punishment?
“Is it?” Donna looks at him sympathetically, squeezing his hand. “I don’t think it is.”
“You don’t under stand,” Dick says desperately. “It’s—all of it—”
“Hey,” she soothes, “hey, stay with me, you’re okay.”
He shudders, leaning into her more. “Remind me never to leave you and Artemis in the same room together,” he says, exhaustion taking over suddenly. He slumps a little, taking in a deep breath. “Fuck.”
Donna smiles a little, pressing her face into his hair. “What, scared?” she teases gently.
“Terrified,” he confirms dryly. She laughs a little, and his lips twitch up into a smile.
“Actually, I have a question.”
“What’s up?”
“That new vigilante that patrolled with you the other night,” Donna starts, “I saw a few pictures of Twitter—she looked nearly identical to you.”
“Duskwing? Oh, yeah, That was Artemis,” Dick nods. “She, uh, she wanted to ‘spend more time with her brother.’”
Donna snorts. “You think she was babysitting you?”
“She totally was,” he groans. “She’s always like this.”
“She is your sister,” Donna laughs. “I can’t blame her.”
Dick pouts at her, and she swats at his head. He ducks and elbows her lightly, and she retaliates by pinching his arm. He yelps, giving her a dirty look.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “I should go say hi.”
“You don’t have to,” she says, deliberately casual. “We could stay here.”
“For the entire day?” he snorts and shakes his head. “No. C’mon."
“If you’re sure,” she says doubtfully, but takes his hand when he pushes off the floor and extends it to her.
She links his arm with his as they walk down the hallway, and they follow the noise until they make it to the kitchen, where Clark is telling a story to Jason and Diana and Bruce are a little ways off knees-deep in their own discussion of the gods know what.
Clark spots him first, lighting up like a golden retriever. “Dick!” he exclaims happily, making his way over. e tugs Dick into a hug, and Dick laughs, returning it gladly.
“Hi, Uncle Clark,” he greets with an easy smile. “What brings you to our humble abode?”
Clark’s eyes twinkle as he laughs, a low, infectious noise. “Very humble,” he agrees, “the most humble.”
“Clark,” Bruce says with a sigh, placing a hand on Dick’s shoulder. Dick grins at his dad, resolving to open the package another time.
“Just league business,” Clark tells Dick. “Boring stuff.”
“This ‘boring stuff’ wouldn’t have anything to do with the LoA, would it?” Dick asks with a tilt of his head. Bruce’s hold on his shoulder tightens minisculely. Dick frowns, catching Donna’s eyes. She shrugs, grabbing one of the cookies that sit on the counter.
“Dick…”
“It's my city too,” he says. “I deserve to know what’s going on.”
“Your city is Bludhaven,” Jason says, rolling his eyes. “As you love to remind us.” He narrows his eyes at Dick. “Is this about why you didn’t want to drive Tim back?”
“What, Bludhaven?” Dick blinks. “That had nothing to do with it.”
“Oh really? Then what about that new vigilante?”
Dick winces. He knew that was going to bite him in the ass. “She’s not…a permanent fixture,” he settles on, ducking out of Bruce’s hold. “She just…wanted to keep an eye on me.”
“Who is she?” Bruce growls. Dick bites back a sigh. Dammit, Jason.
“A friend,” he says, then turns to Diana. “Aunt Diana! Hi!” he calls to her across the kitchen cheerfully, pointedly ignoring Bruce. Bruce growls again, and Dick rolls his eyes.
“Hello, Dick,” Diana says, amused. “How are you?”
“Pretty good, actually,” he says warmly. “What about you?”
“Good as well, if not for the work we have,” she says, and he nods in understanding.
“Actually,” Donna interrupts, “ is it because of the LoA?” Gods, Dick loves her so much.
“The LoA is—”
“Very much my concern,” Dick says smoothly, “seeing as it’s tried to kill multiple of my siblings in the past.” Donna slips her hand in his and squeezes, and he gives her a grateful look.
“The vigilante—”
“Has nothing to do with this,” Dick says, barely able to keep from snapping. “Bruce, I’m serious. If this is about the LoA, I want to know.”
Know why Clark and Diana are here about it, is what he doesn’t say.
Bruce sighs. “You know they were after Tim?”
Dick nods. “Did they come here to draw him out? Because he was at camp when they came?”
Bruce nods, looking so, so tired, and Dick feels just a little bad for him.
“Apparently,” Bruce starts, “apparently they know about demigods.”
Dick sucks in a sharp breath, and Donna squeezes his hand. Oh. Oh, shit. That’s bad.
“Why were they after Tim? Besides, you know, the usual,” he asks, dreading the answer. Unfortunately, Clark, Bruce, and Diana exchange a glance.
“We don’t know,” Clark says gently, and DIck is reminded of the conversation he’d had with Athena. Who was that water nymph? Just what part of the world was she from?
A bad feeling stirs in his gut. He doesn’t like this at all.
“Dick,” Bruce says, then stops. Dick eyes him, then rolls his eyes.
“Her name’s Artemis, she’s a friend, and probably not coming back,” he says. “Okay?”
Donna snorts, and Dick resolves to never let them be in the same room ever lest he want to be utterly destroyed both physically and emotionally.
Later, Jason catches up to him in the cave, where he’s going against a punching bag.
“Who is she really?” he asks, holding it steady. Dick grunts in thanks, throwing another punch and imagining it’s Athena’s face.
“I told you,” he says, clenching his fists.
“You told Bruce,” Jason corrects. “I know better than to think that’s the full truth.”
Dick sighs, dropping his arms to his sides. “I dunno what you want me to tell you,” he says, rolling back his shoulders. That’s a lie. He does know. He just can’t tell him. (can’t? or won’t?)
“Yes you do,” Jason says, stepping closer. “Dick—”
“She’s a friend,” Dick says through gritted teeth. “Nothing more, nothing less.” Sorry, sis, he adds mentally. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”
Jason looks tired, running a hand through his hair. “Fucking—the cult, asshole.”
Dick raises an eyebrow. Jason glares at him, but grudgingly relents.
“They want something to do with half-bloods,” he says. “They were here to draw Replacement out of the camp.”
Dick sucks in a sharp breath. That’s…that’s not good. That’s really not good. Is this what Athena meant by unrest? Does it have anything to do with whatever is ‘stirring’? Dick doesn’t know, and he hates that.
“Did they say anything?”
“Just taunts and shit,” Jason says dismissively. “Although…they did try to get the location of the camp out of him.”
“Did—”
“They get anywhere?” Jason fills in. “no. Timbit’s too stubborn for that.”
Dick lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Why do you care?” Jason asks, eyeing him suspiciously.
“He’s my brother, what do you mean why do I care?”
“The demigod shit,” Jason says. “It’s like you’ve been avoiding it ever since Tim brought it up. But now you’re all worried?”
Dick frowns at him. He hasn’t been…no. He hasn’t, but to them it would look like he has. “Two of my siblings are demigods,” he says tiredly, rubbing his temple. He can feel a headache coming on. (he can will it away, can’t he? But wouldn’t that be cheating when none of his friends can? But he can. but—)
“And you somehow got out of driving Tim. or—being around Tim, lately. What’s up with that?"
“What’s up with the interrogation?” Dick jokes, but it falls flat when Jason only raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m just—busy. Didn’t have time."
“But you have time to get a girlfriend?” Jason mutters, and Dick sort of wants to throttle him. Just a little. (maybe a little more than just a little, but hey. That’s part of being an older brother, right? Wanting to kill your little siblings? [he has been sort of killed by his siblings before and also done the killing but that was to his immortal siblings and he doesn’t really like all of them that much and he’s supposed to be mortal now so he can’t do that—] he’s the oldest, too. He just has to stuff down the feelings and take it out on him by kicking his ass in Mario kart the next time he has a chance.)
“She is not my girlfriend,” he snaps. “She’s—she’s like a sister to me!” Take out the ‘like’ and there you have it, he thinks. Whatever. It’s not like he could avoid it forever.
“None of us have ever even heard of her before,” Jason says. “I feel like you would have talked about her if you were that close. Besides, she looked almost exactly like you.”
Dick winces. Having the same conversation in such a short amount of time, except Jason doesn’t know and Dick can’t tell him? Might be the most stressful thing he’d dealt with since trying to mediate between all of his siblings during a rare movie night.
“Plenty of people look alike,” he says, trying to take deep breaths. “Everyone has at least a few doppelgangers.”
“Dick,” Jason says, and he sounds so much like Bruce that Dick nearly double-checks that he’s not a teenager again (not that he’d ever say this out loud; Jason would kill him). “I won’t tell Bruce, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Dick snorts. “Thanks,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “I feel so much better now.”
Jason narrows his eyes, and Dick grabs a water bottle, taking a long drink. “What are you hiding?” Jason asks, and Dick nearly laughs in his face. What is he hiding? He’s always hiding something, whether it’s injuries, or his mental state, or things from his past he’d rather wasn’t dragged up—he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t hiding things.
“I’m hiding that I was the one who told Steph to put glitter in your shampoo,” he says, completely deadpan, and then he imagines Ares’ face as the punching bag and hits it. Hard.
“Jesus,” Jason says. “What did the bag ever do to you?”
“Ha, ha.”
A silence falls over them after that; not awkward or oppressive, but not quite easy, either. Dick focuses on pummeling the bag, and eventually, he can tell Jason gives up.
“I’ll get an answer one day,” he says warningly, and heads towards the exit.
“Love you too, Little Wing,” Dick calls back nonchalantly. Jason flips him off, revving his motorcycle, and Dick sweatdrops internally. He can try to hide, and he is— for the moment. But he knows his little brothers, and he knows they won’t stop until they get answers.
And right now? All he can hope is keeping his siblings away from his other family.