Chapter Text
It had been a month since their showdown with Minos in the Watchtower, and a hard month it had been.
Spyral had disappated with near-laughable ease after their public exposure. The news had elicited global outrage following the reveal in court, and Minos was indicted without question for several counts of international espionage, blackmail, and obstruction of international justice. His agents, analysts, doctors, scientists and other members had also been dragged out into the limelight by the Bats, who had done their damnedest to make sure no one got out of it unscathed.
Justice League support had never been higher, especially after one of their largest critics (aka Lex Luthor) made headlines wearing a flattering orange jumpsuit, Lexcorp and it’s assets being quietly seized by Wayne Enterprises, much to Tim’s personal delight.
Spyral was well and truly gone.
Midnighter and Apollo had reconciled and retired somewhere in Europe, with plans to travel around, enjoying their time together on an actual planet for a change, and it had been no surprise to Dick to receive an invitation to their vow renewal ceremony in a few months, along with Martian Manhunter. And if a few people who had done business with Spyral that weren’t technically affiliated with the organization ended up dead in the locations that they visited…well, Dick couldn’t find it in himself to care that much.
Raven and Zatanna had also done the Bats a huge favor, casting a spell erasing public knowledge of Dick’s identity, re-securing the Bat’s secret once more. Barring some exceptions, of course, including the Bats themselves, the League and the Titans. They even erased the tiny detail of Dick being dead, which meant Bruce didn’t even have to work hard to resurrect Dick in the public eye either, allowing Dick to return as the oldest Wayne son officially.
Therefore, it hadn’t been a surprise to anyone to see Nightwing flying over the streets of Gotham or Bludhaven again as of a few days ago, joined by the remaining Bats as they took over their responsibilities once more.
Of course, there had been conditions to returning to patrol, especially for Dick.
The first being therapy.
It became quickly obvious that removing the metahuman organs would not remove Dick’s powers, since they’d already overwritten his DNA, and in reluctance to subject Dick to any further surgeries or medical experimentation, Bruce suggested Dick talk to someone, seeking out mental health treatment to cope with his experiences, which Dick readily agreed to.
After finding a Central City-based psychologist that had written a very compelling profile on superhero mentalities for his thesis, Dick had started regularly attending sessions, and soon enough, a slew of triggers followed that needed addressing.
One of those triggers was looking in a reflective surface. It had taken three shattered mirrors, and a cracked phone screen for Dick to realize his aversion to his reflection, and multiple sessions to break down why.
For one thing, his eyes were wrong. The Kryptonian eyes that he’d been given were blue…they weren’t the same blue he’d inherited from his mami. In certain lights, it didn’t matter, but when Dick looked, he could just tell it wasn’t the same. He hated it, because his eyes were one of the only things he’d inherited from her physically, and now they were gone, just like her.
The other struggle was the scars. His healing factor had erased every single one he had. Every callous, every acne mark, every wound that had ever left a mark was now gone. On one hand, Dick was relieved. He could wake up and get changed without ever seeing what Spyral’s scientists had done to him, but on the other…the rest of the life he’d lived had been erased in exchange. He hadn’t liked his scars, but they had been a part of him, and that had been ripped away, just like his organs.
Bruce had tried to offer solutions, in an attempt to ease Dick’s discomfort, including contacts, but in the end, he just kept buying mirrors. The same issue occurred with the sound of medical equipment, especially heart rate monitors. Bruce changed the sound, but that still had little impact.
After all, there was no amount of fixing that would change what had been done to Dick.
All they could do now was move forward.
That had also meant Bruce going to therapy. Taking accountability of his anger and aggression had been a requirement posed to him from all of the kids, and Bruce had agreed to it without question. His own therapist recommended a retreat, that specialized in men like him. He went, and while he was there, he wrote each of the kids letters, expressing apologies for everything he’d done, unpacking years-worth of behaviors that were forced into new lights.
Dick had read his letter over and over, all fourteen pages of it. It had been sobering, and yet helpful, validating actually, to read through Bruce’s perspective on their relationship. Dick even wrote back, much to Bruce’s surprise, creating a new system for the two of them, communicating through written word instead of a verbal format. Turns out, they both struggled to say what they wanted to when faced with confrontation. Who knew?
Jason had rolled his eyes when he found out about that, practically screaming at the top of his lungs that he could have smashed their heads together years ago, and all it took was pen and paper?! Alfred had just rolled his eyes and asked Jason to cease the theatrics, promising a trip to the bookstore on Bruce’s dime. Cass had just patted Jason on the arm and affirmed that words complicated things.
Tim had also found a therapist, on Dick’s recommendation to address his own issues. A conversation shortly after Dick’s return had exposed Tim’s complicated feelings around Tim’s removal as Robin, and Dick, to his credit, had apologized. They talked about that time in their lives, and their perspectives; Dick’s fear in being both Batman and a parental figure, and Tim’s grief, over losing his friends and his mantle, and his insecurities around being a member of the Batfamily. They also talked about Damian, and brought the younger boy into the conversation, allowing the two younger Robins to actually address the beef that still hung between them, and even somewhat resolve it.
Even Duke had found a place in all of this, starting to train with the other vigilantes and joining in on the family, who readily accepted him. Damian in particular had appreciated the other boy’s presence, the two of them bonding over Robin, and social justice. Together, they bullied Bruce into paying bail for all of the kids who had been arrested for being apart of the We Are Robin movement, and started a new foundation to help kids in social service’s custody find proactive roles in their communities. Stephanie had also gotten involved, using the experience to help with her degree as she continued to study.
Of course, issues still came up, they always would.
But like they’d all promised, instead of internalizing those issues, and developing grudges that drove them apart, they’d done things differently.
And they were all the better for it.
The second condition of Dick’s return to patrol had been training with individual members of the Justice League to assess and hone his new powers. After spending a few days with Diana, J’onn, Arthur, and Barry, it was Clark’s turn. Which was how he now found himself on the Kent’s ranch, staring out at his family holding a little barbeque on the back porch.
They hadn’t planned on it being a big affair, after all, it was just meant to be training. But Dick was grateful that they’d come nonetheless. It helped him remember that he was home. Naturally, others had joined in, especially the Titans, who were playing some form of cross game of tag and capture the flag in the back yard, surrounding Dick’s siblings who appeared to be planning some kind of offensive maneuver. Kon and Jon Kent also joined in, on the Titan’s side, outnumbering the Bats, while Clark, Lois, Pa Kent, Alfred and Bruce talked on the porch.
After dinner, Superman would show Dick how to fly his way and the two of them would go to Antarctica and back just before dessert.
Ma Kent joined Dick by the window, putting a comforting hand on Dick’s shoulder, noticing his nostalgic, but conflicted expression. “How are you feeling, honey?”
Dick gave her a big smile, hoping not to betray his doubts and fears, but she saw right through them. “My boy told me a little about what you’ve been through. I can’t imagine it, after everything else. I can imagine, that you’re still struggling to come to terms with everything?”
Dick’s shoulders slumped. “I’m that easy to read, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, waiting. “I…a few months ago, I was worried I’d never see them again. After being cut off from it all, being shoved to the outside, I couldn’t help but see it all as a punishment.” Dick glanced back out, watching them all interact without him.
“For what?” Ma Kent asked, her heart crying at the look on Dick’s face.
“For not being good enough.”
She let out a disrespectful snort. “My son calls you a multiversal constant, did you know that?” She reached up and cupped Dick’s face, dragging his attention back to her. Dick nodded, frowning in confusion at the abrupt shift. “Now, I’m not sure what that entirely means, but he thinks the world of you. They all do. So, don’t you go thinking that you aren’t, because all those people out there can’t all be wrong. Many of ‘em wouldn’t be here without you, after all, would they? Many would not be family without you, would they?” She posed, and Dick couldn’t find an argument to refute her.
She sighed, wiping the flour she’d left on his face away with her thumb. “And even if all that weren’t true, you never need to prove that you are enough to belong in this world. That’s not how things work, which I’m sure you know.”
Dick flushed. She was right.
“What you’ve been through isn’t okay, and you didn’t deserve it. So, stop punishing yourself. And let them help you believe it.” She cocked her head towards the people outside, and Dick glanced out at them, spotting his siblings try to dogpile on Donna, who easily lifted Tim and Duke over her shoulders while Damian clung to her waist. A smile quirked the corners of Dick’s lips upward.
“Okay.” Dick turned back to her with an appreciative glance. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure, honey. Now go tell your siblings that they need to wash up before they eat, okay?” She instructed, smoothing down her apron, wiping the flour off her hands from the fresh pie Dick could smell in her oven. Dick nodded, and opened up the door, joining everyone in the backyard.
“Hey Boy Wonder, come over here!” Donna called, waving him over as Jason tried tackling her from behind. Dick zipped over, using his superspeed to intercept, easily hauling Jason off his feet and over his shoulder.
“Hey!” Jason squirmed, beating against Dick’s back. “You’re supposed to be on our side.”
“Oh, am I?” Dick sent Donna a knowing glance, his eyes glinting.
“YES!” All of the Batkids cried out, somehow all subdued by the Titans surrounding them.
“Hmm…” Dick pretended to think about it, and then snatched Damian off of Donna. “I guess I’m just too used to being a double agent.” He punned, eliciting a series of groans from them all.
Jason stilled on his shoulder and then called out “Who says it’s us against Dickie here? Winner gets to pick whatever affirmation he has to say, and the first slice of pie.”
Everyone cheered, and Dick rolled his eyes.
And he let the game begin.
He knew Ma Kent would give him the first slice anyways.