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Chapter Text

An eight year old kid witnessed his parents death, and couldn’t speak word of it. He saw the ropes get cut, they didn’t snap. He climbed to the ground and ran to their bodies but cops pulled him away, he tried pulling away but they were stronger. He tried swatting at them to let him go. Next thing he knew they were grabbing at him, dragging him away.

He wouldn’t get any of his belongings, just the clothes on his back, and even then he was still in his performing outfit. He didn’t fully realize until he saw everyone else that spelled his doom, he was forced to change into a new uniform, in front of guards in case he was hiding anything, the new clothes irritated him and kept him constantly aware of all the extra space between his skin and the fabric and every vulnerable part of him everyone could still see. The kids there were cruel. It was loud, and somehow both so bright and far too dim. A constant buzzing in air made him want to scream.

The stronger kids stole his food and pushed him out of his bed. They pushed him around and called him names, he doubted they even knew his actual name. If he ever spoke or made any sound it spelled trouble. The cruelty lessened if he got quiet, it was hard at first, he wanted to defend himself, but every time he did it only got so much worse. But he needed to survive somehow.

***

Bruce Wayne had officially attended the Haly’s International Circus the day tragedy fell. Unoficially, Batman knew the only Witness was a child who was part of the show, high enough to see foul play, but a kid who hadn’t spoken about the incident.

It was as Batman he learned about the kid. He couldn’t find a birth record, possibly having been born outside a hospital, and if he was traveling his entire life it wasn’t entirely strange. Next, whenever they traveled he used a different legal name, fitting to wherever they traveled. These last few weeks were his first time in the states, his mother was Romani, his father was Italian British. He began performing in front of a crowd when he was five years old.

His Romani name meant Robin, like the springtime bird. His name for America was Richard. Before the incident, the family had been using the father’s British side’s last name, Greyson.

“Richard Greyson, what did you see?”

He kept searching on the computer until he saw the kid was taken to a Juvie facility for assaulting an officer the night of his parent’s deaths. Poor kid probably hadn’t even had a chance to grieve. And from what he saw, he didn’t hurt anyone.

He connected to the facility’s security, finding only shadows moving around, but not a physical kid. Kid was smart enough to know where the cameras were, but didn’t take his shadows into account. That was enough for Batman.

Cowl on, he set off in an intense rain storm, hopefully the kid had found shelter. He went to the facility and followed the shadowed patterns, finding a small corner on the roof, how the kid managed to climb up was beyond him, even for a circus performer.

There was an overlap in the roof, giving him a little shade, and he was away from any cameras. He’d been lying down, curled into the corner of the wall with the rain pouring down at him. Cradled by hard cement.

He was fast asleep, and shivering. Since the incident he looked thinner, exhausted, and the ill fitted uniform did nothing to hide his bruises, he coudln’t imagine what was actually covered.

Batman approached, and as his shadow passed over the kid, he began to stir. The little energy he had helped him open his eyes, seeing the looming figure he jolted back, hugging his knees, eyes wide, but entirely silent.

“It’s alright” He’d been holding a bag of fast food, and held out the bag. “You seem hungry, here.”

The kid quickly looked down at the bag and then back at the bat. He didn’t reach out, he looked terrified.

“You’re not in trouble, I just want to help.” Then he considered, his family traveled a lot, the boy might’ve known some English, but it wasn’t his first language, it’d be at least his fifth language. He tried repeating in Italian. He didn’t know Romani, and was fairly certain it was a closed practice. It seemed to work, noticing a hint of recognition in the kid’s eyes.

Batman sat beside him, crossing his legs, and opened the bag, taking out a container of fries, and ate one. He offered to Richard next, who hesitantly took a small one, taking his time slowly eating it.

He took out two hamburgers, handed one to the kid, and with his own began to unwrap and took a bite. Richard followed what the bat did, and took a bite. He felt overwhelmed, it was so much. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and realizing he won’t be punished for eating, devoured the entire thing and most of the fries.

Batman sighed in relief, this was progress. “Hey, kid. Can I check if you have a fever? I’ll just put my hand on your forehead, just since it’s been raining I want to make sure.”

But he looked nervous at that. So Batman just nodded. “Alright, I don’t have to. How about this?”

He took out a thermometer, and said if he wants to put it under his own tongue, they don’t even have to touch. He agreed to that. There was a fever, but it wasn’t horrible yet.

“Alright, you should get inside. It’s warmer there. Let me see if a friend of mine can help, you might be able to stay there after a few days.”

Batman needed the kid to tell him what happened. What he didn’t anticipate was that Bruce would need the kid to be okay. That fear, that hurt, he knew it all too well. And he didn’t know at what point in that interaction he had the thought, “I can’t let him turn into me.”

***

Kids are strange. They don’t always have filters, they’re durable and yet so fragile. They see everything and yet miss so much. But they’re also not as indestructible as they think.

When Dick had seen Batman he was soaking in the rain and had a low fever, but it never really went away. He got back and got in trouble for sneaking out. It’d been a month since that night on the roof, during which he tried to sleep as little as possible to avoid the other kids hurting him when he couldn’t protect himself, and he’d been barely eating since the stronger kids had been pushing him away and taking it from him.

The adults turned the other way. And quickly he realized if adults had any authority in Gotham, they were either useless or dirty, either way they had no reason to stop him from getting hurt. If anyone knew he saw what happened, they’d just let the kids kill him.

He had to defend himself, had to find a way out, realizing what would happen would be the end of his family, and nobody would step in to save him. Was it all planned? He didn’t hurt the cop back then, so was all this a ploy?

The next night he had to run away for good. He snuck back to his last spot. He tried hiding, hoping batman would show up again. But it was a long night, it’d gotten colder. And the rain turned into hail. He was hungry, he was tired. So, so tired. And by the time the bat showed up on the roof, he’d been about to fall asleep.

Richard stood, and immediately collapsed.

***

Batman had taken him to a hospital away from the facility, however there was a problem. The kid had incomplete legal records, no health insurance, and was considered a criminal. Legally they had to save lives, but the corruption dug it’s claws deep. Even an eight year old child on deaths door wasn’t protected.

Batman took out cash, asked how much would be needed. The doctors didn’t really answer. So he did the only next thing he could think of. “What’s the fastest way to get him on someone’s health insurance?”

***

The next day Bruce Wayne showed up to the hospital and said a friend informed him of a kid without health insurance, and asked how much his treatment would be. He’d foster the kid, help give him a second chance.

When Batman brought an eight year old kid to the hospital, the kid was at risk of starvation and was running a fever of 106 fahrenheit (41 C). He had a broken wrist and internal bleeding which required surgery. His malnurishment almost made his heart give out. He was given a feeding tube. He was in and out of conciousness that the time blended, unable to tell how long he’s been there or when night or day was since he slept most of the time.

Bruce tried talking to him in Italian but Dick had been too tired to understand anything. He had a breathing tube that kept his jaw open, he felt frail, like a tower of cards about to collapse at the slightest motion. From his injuries and all the machines attached to him, he couldn’t move, the tubes in his mouth and nose kept him from talking and mostly couldn’t move his head at all, his whole body ached and was too weak to move.

And then he actually saw Bruce. And he remembered what he learned, every adult in gotham is either useless or corrupt. So if Bruce Wayne made sure he lived, what did he have planned for him? That terrified him even more.

After meeting Bruce he was finally allowed to get his surgery, but on the way he heard a whisper. “That’s the kid that spotted Zucco, with Wayne involved we can’t deal with him how we planned but we can still find ways to keep him quiet.”

He could barely move, and then even that was taken away. He was wheeled into a new room, much darker, new machines, new people all in masks, but not the kind that batman was in.

“Alright he’s asleep.” Except he wasn’t. He felt a sudden sharp pain like a knife in his torso, pulling and prodding inside his body, hands reaching within and moving him in ways that felt impossible. He couldn’t look to see what they were doing, and he felt every small part of it. He couldn’t say a word about it, couldn’t scream, couldn’t move his hands to push them away. And then it was over. They sewed him shut, and wheeled him back.

Bruce arrived again and Dick tried to sleep, afraid to talk to him, he couldn’t trust he wasn’t part of whatever this was. He asked if he was getting all his needed medications, if he was in any pain. A nurse assured him that Dick was sedating and not in any pain. Bruce even asked to stay one day to see him get a dose, the man saw something injected into his IV, but never looked at what it was. Dick coudln’t move, couldn’t say whatever it was sent his nerves on fire, he couldn’t run away, any desire to survive didn’t matter, he had absolutely no control.

His fever got a little better, but he still couldn’t move, he felt even weaker and slept even more, everything hurt and he felt even thinner, more fragile than before he got to the hospital. Nurses checked and prodded at his stitches and bandages, messing with the machines and he desperately wanted to know what they were doing, he assumed everything they were doing was going to kill him sooner or later.

Then one day Bruce showed up and sat at Dick’s side. He waited a very long time, didn’t speak a word. He didn’t check his phone, didn’t pull out a book to read, just watched Dick. When a nurse entered he asked what they were doing, watched them give him medicine, and asked to see all the medicine they were giving him. And then after what felt like an eternity, he felt a twitch in his hand, finally able to move.

“Could I have a moment alone with the boy? I’d like to talk to him.” It was just them.

“Have they been giving you medicine to take the pain away?” He asked in Italian.

Dick wanted to move, wanted to shake his head, anything. His finger twitched slightly, would’ve gone unnoticed to anyone except somehow this strange man.

“Alright, if they’ve been giving you medicine that helped the pain, tap my hand.” And he rested the boy’s hand on top of his own. No movement.

Bruce was silent for a moment before he spoke, “alright, I’ll get you a better doctor. You’ll be okay.”

Dick couldn’t trust a single word he said, some things were too good to be true.

Chapter Text

While he recovered, Bruce kept visiting, watched the nurses and doctors work. He smiled a little, tried telling him it’d be alright and he’d go to live with him from now on. Dick didn’t trust any of it. He knew there was something sinister, something this man was hiding. At least the cruel kids were honest about who they were.

In the hospital he had so little control. He needed to move his body, was so used to constantly being in motion, whether from travel or performing. He was an acrobat, this was too still. He couldn’t eat on his own at first. They removed the breathing tube, which made his entire body ache, even with his new pain meds. The new doctor had been giving him his medicine and it helped, but he still felt something was wrong. Dick couldn’t exactly say everything that happened at the hospital, and still could barely move his head. His fever went down finally, and after some time he was able to eat food on his own, chewing took a lot of energy so mostly drinking water and juice, but it was a lot better.

When he saw his reflection he didn’t recognize himself. He last saw an acrobat full of life, now he looked so sick and bitter.

He didn’t know how much of him could hurt at once, the breathing tube taught him that. How little autonomy he could have. That was what hospitals taught him. No control, no motion, no help, only secrets. The lights also hurt his eyes, but he couldn’t do anything.

He just dissociated through the entire process, it was the only way to get through it.

Bruce had a few friends visit. The first was a journalist named Clark, he seemed kind but Dick couldn’t be sure. He agreed to write an article revealing what happened at the facility. Then a woman named Diana, he couldn’t read her, she didn’t smile nor frown, but seemed angry over something, what it was Dick couldn’t be sure. There were a few others, the most memorable was another rich man, blond, named Oliver. He remembered hearing a bit of their conversation.

“And how old is he?”

“The circus said he’s eight, but he doesn’t have a birth certificate so we don’t know for sure.”

“And he was malnurished with a cold?”

“That puts it lightly, his heart almost gave out from starvation, and he had a fever of 106.”

“Alright, yeah, give em hell. I’ll back you on the case.”

Slowly he started to get better. He had more motion, had more strength. Bruce kept visiting. At first he was just talking to doctors, then a commissioner, and once he was able to move tried asking him questions and getting to know him. He refused to give him anything at first, refused to answer and just held an angry expression.

It took awhile for Dick to respond to anything. But then one day Bruce didn’t ask him anything, and instead began talking about himself, in Italian. “You know, like you I also lost my parents when I was eight. I was almost completely alone. Someone helped, but most of my life I was alone. It’s horrible to go through. Now I do what I can to make sure nobody has to be alone like I was. I’d like to do that for you. My home is big enough you don’t even need to see me if you hate me, but you’d never have to go back to that place, I know the people there hurt you. I’ll make sure you never get sick again and have all the food you want. I can get you your very own gym in the house so you can keep doing acrobatics. You can go to one of the best schools in Gotham. Ive been here before. But you’ve seen some of my friends, I got better, I have people who help me, and who want to help you too. What do you think of all that”

It was too much for Dick, it must’ve been a trick, but he was so worn down, he didn’t think he really had a choice. And he desperately wished it were true. Despite all evidence and logic telling him to close himself off forever, he couldn’t explain this spark of hope blooming within him. He nodded.

***

Wayne manor was enormous, dark, and at first felt like a maze. He met the buttler, Alfred. He was shy at first but opened up a bit, something about the fact the man was much older made him feel safer. Alfred asked him his dietary preferences, and showed him to his new room. Then he showed him where Bruce’s room and Alfred’s was.

The room was big, the closet was big, the bathroom was big. Everything was so much. It was overstimulating. The first day Dick just wanted to walk around his room. He wasn’t strong enough to be entirely on his own, so the door stayed open with Bruce leaned on the doorway as the kid walked around in circles in various areas until he felt he fully understood the space he had to work with.

He’d gone to the closet, tapping every piece, made a slight “mh” sound as certain textures or patterns weren’t right, which were immediately removed and replaced, anything that didn’t hug well enough or fit how he needed them to. It was an adjustment, not everything could be predicted, but enough of it was there to grow from.

Dick knew Bruce was rich, but didn’t realize what that really meant. Anything was possible. After awhile he was already tired. After spending so much time in the hospital and after just being sick just walking around his new room was enough to exhaust him.

He had to take medicine before going to bed, and didn’t feel like eating anything. His door was left open, and when he woke, he smelled food. He got up and felt dizzy, but tried to get used to this new normal. He went to brush his teeth, flossed, then changed into something new. It’d been too long since he got new clothes, even before the incident at the circus they saved money where they could and new clothes like these weren’t normal to him.

He wore a white t shirt and dark blue jeans. He hadn’t worn jeans before, these were new, he needed to adjust to the texture. He’d seen American children wearing them, figured this would help blend in. But getting ready in the morning had taken more energy than he expected, and sat on the floor for some time before he felt capable to move some more.

But with that he left his room and saw Bruce. “Hi Chum, how’d you sleep?”

Dick shrugged.

“Alright, well, Alfred made pancakes.” Bruce wasn’t sure how to respond, this was all new to him. He couldn’t leave the kid on his own, but he wasn’t exactly sure he was equipped to raise a kid, in many ways he still felt like a kid himself, reliving old memories.

They went downstairs together, Dick wanted to run, but Bruce held his hand and helped him slowly down, almost tripping over the first step was enough for them both to know he wasn’t used to feeling like this. Bruce almost wanted to carry him, but he also knew this child would be itching to move, clearly needed the freedom, so hand holding it was. By the time they got to the kitchen and Bruce pulled out a chair for Dick, he climbed up and stood on the seat.

“Master Richard, I do insist you sit properly.” Alfred insisted. He laughed, and sat as he was told. But that sound was new.

Bruce ran through his memories since meeting Dick, he made small grunt sounds at clothes he didn’t like, he made a bit of sound from heavy breathing in the hospital. None of those sounds were happy.

The first time Bruce heard his son’s voice was laughter. Most parents first heard their children cry, and he got to hear laughter.

He wasn’t sure before if he’d be a good enough parent, just the right person in the right place who could give him a home and avenge him. But now bruce was determined, he had to save this kid, his kid.

Chapter Text

There were good moments among the bad. The first few months were difficult. He wasn’t ready yet to go to school. He’d physically recovered but some days he still returned to this shut down mindset. The episodes were frequent. He wouldn’t respond to any communication, refused to eat, often couldn’t sleep, when he did he got nightmares and when someone touched him without telling him first he’d have panic attacks. Alfred helped make sure he took medication as needed to keep up his energy and keep away the pain.

Bruce was gone at nights, when he got back he’d see Richard sitting and hugging his knees outside his bedroom door. Alfred warned him when he was in these states. Sometimes Bruce took him back to his room, tucked him into bed and told him it’ll be alright. Sometimes he just let the kid stay in his bed. Sometimes he was crying and nothing worked except sitting at his side until all the tears were gone and he’d calmed down on his own.

Months went by and he hadn’t spoken a word. He laughed sometimes, cried a lot, screamed. He could never really disappear but never really present at first. He felt like a living ghost in his new home. Thunder storms didn’t help, they gave him nightmares and Bruce always let him stay in his bed when those happened. Unfortunately, Gotham wasn’t known for clear skies.

Getting him to eat was one of the hardest parts. He had slowly gotten used to eating solid foods again after leaving the hospital, and he lost so much weight they couldn’t risk skipping meals. However in his dissociative states he wouldn’t respond nor acknowledge the food in front of him. Alfred and Bruce decided it was more important he eat anything rather than eat something healthy or of quality, just a matter of making sure he didn’t go hungry at this point. That meant for an eight year old, sugary sweets, snacks, and comfort foods.

Sometimes it helped to let Dick sit on the counter and watch alfred cook, as though knowing exactly what he was being fed eased his nerves. They also had suspicions he had sensory issues that nobody had mentioned. It was unlikely he ever saw a psychiatrist about those issues, Bruce also wondered if maybe he was on the spectrum, which he had some background in. Sometimes he refused to eat something if the smell gave him a headache, or a texture would cause panic.

He hated unpredictable touch, even when someone was right in front of him and told him they were going to hold him, it was still sometimes too much. Bruce knew that, and he felt safe in his arms. Bruce would tell him when he was leaving in Italian. It reminded him of his father.

He started separating them in his mind as father and dad. Dad was American, rich, a Wayne. Father was dead.

He wasn’t sure when he started thinking of them that way, just that it happened. And Sometimes he’d just sit on the floor wherever he last saw Bruce, until he’d sit right next to an old clock waiting for hours until he fell asleep and was carried back to his bed and woke up tucked in.

It was an adjustment for Bruce, and most days it wasn’t easy, but on the days they got it right, all of it was worth it. On the days Dick laughed, when he smiled and ran around, it was worth it. When he tried to climb a banister because he had the energy and didn’t just cry in bed all day, when he remembered where he was, it was all worth it. When his health was stable enough to try a better diet or exert more energy, it had all been worth it.

They learned sign language together, knowing communication was difficult. Bruce picked it up faster than Dick, he was still struggling at all to communicate or process anything, especially since ASL was more based on English which he was also still learning, but it felt special. His family had their own family language, now this family had a new special language.

But one day Dick knew Bruce was about to leave, it was always that time. But this time Bruce said in English, “I have a gift for you, would you like to join me tonight?”

Dick nodded and followed him to the clock. He signed “clock old, no like.”

Bruce didn’t expect his own laugh. But continued to move it, opening it like a door, revealing a long staircase. And suddenly the boy’s eyes widened. He saw the cave and at first was nervous but held a death grip to the railing and made his way down in front of Bruce.

He got down and started looking around, running from item to item, and then he took several seconds looking closely at a turned off computer, then ran to the bat uniform. And he realized who he was.

Dick pointed at Bruce, who nodded. “This is who I am. I told you, I want to help you.”

In some ways Dick felt he trusted Batman more than Bruce, when he saw them as different people. But now he was processing new information. He felt his breathing calm, not realizing if it was stressed before. And slowly walked to Bruce, who now was crouched down on one knee to be at eye level with his kid. Dick wasn’t sure if Bruce was like him, but before proceeded made sure to be slow to make sure they were both okay with touch, and wrapped his arms around him. Bruce hugged him back, gently. Dick’s embrase was tight, but Bruce was careful with the boy.

Bruce didn’t separate, made sure to hold on as long as Dick wanted. Only when Dick let go did his dad follow suit. Dick signed back, “thank you.”

Bruce nodded, and signed back “let me show you.” He led him to another uniform stand, but this one had variations, separate parts, not a cohesive suit yet. “I wasn’t sure what design you’d want. But I can make sure you have the best gear if you’d want to join me out there, the rest is in your control.”

His own control. Dick looked over the different pieces. They had padding to offer protection, but he looked at the most flexible pieces, he was an acrobat after all, and still a performer at heart.

Batman got suited up and returned to see the boy had taken scissors to the tights and made them shorts and was folding the combat boots into something much more imaginative. He chose the more colorful pieces. It came to him then, Robin, the springtime bird.

Alfred arrived downstairs, his surprise was well hidden. “I see he’s taken the freedom to heart.”

Bruce turned back at the kid, who had a wide grin and was choosing between domino masks. Bruce made sure the lenses would help with visual stimuli, almost like sunglasses meant for any level of lighting. “Was this a mistake?”

“Time will tell, Master Bruce.”

Finally he took his final chosen pieces to the changing room in the cave and returned skipping toward the two men. “Well, at least he kept the mask. Alright, Richard, how are the lenses, do they feel okay?”

The boy nodded, with a toothy grin pointed at the R stitched on his chest, and finger spelt “robin”

“So in the mask, you’re Robin.” Dick nodded. “Your mother called you that, right?”

Again he nodded, but this time the reminder wasn’t painful. Bruce must’ve seen that too.

“Alright. Today there isn’t expected to be anything dangerous. We’re just going to go around the city, we wear the masks so nobody knows who we are. And then we’ll come back, go to bed, and the next day we keep secret what happened in the masks. Can you keep this secret?”

He knew he should’ve asked that earlier, but first he needed to see his excitement, if he’d actually want this.

Dick giggled, and mimicked zipping his lips.

***

Robin wasn’t trained properly yet, he’d only just recovered and psychologically was still in a lot of pain. But there was something new seeing Gotham from a birds eye view at night, racing through the towering city. His experience with Gotham was all loss and suffering. He’d lost his parents and was punished for it, but seeing it as just another obstacle course for him to swing around, it made it feel like a new home. There were endless things to see from endless angles, and now as Robin he could.

He laughed. Ran ahead. Knowing Batman would catch him if anything were to happen.

He remembered as they traveled his parents would tell him the laws in different places they traveled and how to stay out of trouble. In the end just existing was enough to be a problem. Clearly the law didn’t keep him safe, a man in a mask who didn’t need a warrant was the only reason he didn’t die. And now, the only law that applied to him was gravity. Even that, he wondered how close he could get to breaking it. Only one way to find out.

His muscle memory kicked in, at first Batman was worried and kept close, catching him mid jumps, but the kid was fast and stubborn, if he wanted to run around he’d do it. He was slow at first, readjusting to his body’s limits after getting sick and not practicing in months. But he trusted his new dad, trusted he knew where he was and he knew his limits. Like Batman said, there wasn’t any trouble that night, not that they’d seen at least. So they finished for the night and got back to the cave. As soon as they were safe inside and knew nobody would follow, he began cartwheeling and doing flips around the cave, giggling.

Bruce took off the cowl, caught his breath. “This kid is gonna be the death of me.”

“I take it went well, Master Bruce?”

“Yeah, he might need less training than I thought. Still he’s not at 100% and he’s not ready for any fights. But I don’t think I’ll be able to stop him now that he’s gotten a taste of it.”

“Then perhaps it’s worth calling in extra support.” Alfred suggested.

“The League? Not happening, not all of them know who I am.”

“Not the whole league, but Mr. Kent has written on the mistreatment he’s endured, and Miss Prince offered her assistance, even Mr. Queen has given his sympathy to the boy.”

“Alright. I’ll call Clark.”

Chapter Text

Dick had gotten slowly more comfortable, the nightmares lessoned. They didn’t fully go away but they were manageable. He was now able to eat regularly and didn’t have any episodes during mealtimes, so the quality of his diet also greatly improved.

He’d been able to start school in August, he caught up with some material during his recovery, gotten more used to English, and his teacher was told he was nonverbal. He also met with a few trusted psychiatrists. They said they weren’t sure if he’d be able to speak again, the main thing was to prevent further trauma and make sure he gets the support he needs. The mix of learning English with being nonverbal created a unique challenge, but as he felt safer at home he picked up on the language much quicker.

He’d already been opening up more. Slowly vocalizing more, mostly sounds. Some words but usually the sound drowned out and the rest had to be inferred. It was psychological, not physical, but it still caused him pain, so they knew not to push him.

He kept to himself mostly. The Wayne family was important to Gotham, Bruce was a billionaire, so Dick would be enrolled in a private elementary school. He had his own tutor to help him catch up and an IEP. Studying wasn’t hard for him, in fact he was incredibly bright. But the people made him nervous.

All the kids were really rich, most were white and Christian, had never left Gotham, and didn’t take a liking to him. They didn’t need connections. But the most influential man in the city now had a kid who walked among them.

Dick had been excited to make new friends his age. As much as it was nice to meet Bruce’s friends, none of them were his age or anywhere near his age. But then he heard the names. A circus freak, publicity stunt, charity case, another one he couldn’t repeat.

He got home and went to his room and immediately began writing on a piece of paper. Bruce had gotten home from Wayne Enterprises and right away headed to Dick’s room to check on him. “Hey chum, how as the first day at school?”

Dick turned to him, in tears, and held up what he’d written. He never saw Bruce angry. He’d seen Batman angry, but this was different. It wasn’t just disapproval, it was an emotion he’d never seen on this man before.

Before speaking, Bruce controlled his breathing. “I’m going to take a call. Can you join Alfred in the kitchen?”

***

School got better. Some of the kids got nicer. One kid in particular was really nice, her name was Barbara, she wasn’t good at sign language or any languages other than English but she liked rambling anyway which was nice since home was so quiet, this was a nice change of pace.

And then he got to go home and once he was done with his homework he could go to the cave and train with Batman until they set out in the night. They’d get back, sometimes Robin stayed behind on school nights unless he really insisted, or Robin would be dropped off early before Batman went back out on his own.

That was how he found himself on a monday night waiting for Batman to get home. He sat at the top of the stairs with his feet dangling over the edge. He had another bad dream and wanted Bruce. Alfred offered to help him go back to bed but he signed he wanted his dad.

Finally he heard a motion, someone was entering the cave. But it wasn’t Batman. He saw a blue blur and ran down, he remembered going over records of heroes, the blue and red, the S on his chest. “S-Su…”

The man turned around, and saw a little boy in his PJs with stars in his eyes. “Oh, um, hi. Should you be down here?”

He pointed at him, trying hard to sound out the name, they felt unfamiliar together but not painful so he continued. “Su-per-ma..”

Superman bent down to be at his level. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m a friend of Batman’s. If it’s easier you can call me Kal.”

Dick thought to himself, indicating it with looking up and crossing his arms, before grinning and shaking his head like it was a foolish notion.

“Alright, suit yourself.” Kal turned his attention to the desk the batcomputer was attached to. “I’m supposed to find something here near the…”

Dick ran in front of him, holding up a small notepad, it read a list of things superman might want from Batman, different equipment they’d use on cases.

“Huh, first on the list.” Kal was honestly impressed. He ran off with a laugh and returned with a small box of supplies. Then the kid wrote good luck, tell Batman to hurry up which got Superman to laugh and he replied, “will do.”

Some time passed and Dick practiced some acrobatics in the cave while he waited. Batman got back with Superman.

“You should be in bed.” Bruce crossed his arms. Dick dropped down and copied his posture. “I’m serious, tomorrow’s a school night.”

The kid dropped the mimicry and went to grab his notepad to write something. But his hand froze as he tried writing it out, a small shake was enough to stop. Instead he turned back to Bruce and signed, “sorry.”

Bruce sighed, walked over and picked up the boy, letting him rest on his hip and his little arms wrapped around him. It was more awkward in his bat uniform but the kid felt less nervous when he was off the ground somehow, even in this way. He sometimes hated touch, but he’d begun to want it from family when he had a hard time. “No, I’m sorry.”

He walked back with the small child attached to him knowing Clark was the one person who wouldn’t care and even find it endearing.

“Is he in trouble?” Clark told Bruce while they were gone about his vocalization.

“Nope. Pretty sure I’m not off the hook though.” Dick didn’t need to say it. He had a nightmare. Bruce wouldn’t learn what it was about specifically but over time they narrowed it down to three things; the incident, the juvie facility, or the hospital. Either way, he wouldn’t want to be alone. He waas supposed to be in bed, he knew he shouldn’t be up unless he needed something, this wasn’t nothing. Richard Greyson-Wayne may be unpredictable, but he always had a reason.

They wrote up a report of their case, Batman sat in front of the batcomputer. It was Dick’s idea for the name, that and the batarangs. And then they heard it.

“Jus-tis?” he said pointing at an article about the justice league. “Leg?”

His voice wasn’t used to this use. Without Bruce’s cowl he couldn’t hide how wide his eyes went. Dick felt a burst of energy and wanted to use it, he’d rest soon anyway and had too much energy, he felt a need to speak.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Bruce maintained his composure (mostly). “You recognize any of them?”

He zoomed in the photo. Dick took a moment, focused his breathing. “Superman… Batman… W-wonder Wom-”

The sound went quiet, he was determined but struggled. “There’s a lot of syllables there, you’re doing great. Want to try this one? Just one syllable.”

The boy focused. “Flash.”

The three grinned. They continued with other heroes, or shortened versions of names to make things easier. “Canary (Black Canary). Green (arrow). Green (lantern). Mars (Martian Manhunter). Agua (Aquaman).” As they continued he tried to say the full names, but had to settle.

Bruce and Clark exchanged a look that they both understood how big a deal this was.

“Ha-rule… Huck-url… hawk…” He looked like he was struggling with the annunciation, meaning he was nearing his limit.

“Alright, that’s a hard one. Want to end it there for tonight, this was a lot.” The kid looked exhausted, enough time with him taught Bruce this meant I’m out of energy now. He’d have an early morning with school, and was up way too late, tomorrow was gonna be difficult. He wondered if he had enough energy to walk upstairs or if using up any more energy could make him start crying or shut down. Deciding it wasn’t worth the risk, he turned to Clark. “I should get this one to bed.”

“Late for a school night?”

“Yeah.” He carried him upstairs and was back shortly with Richard properly asleep this time.

“Maybe he should take the day off tomorrow, I can always swing by and take him to lunch in Metropolis.”

“Might have to take you up on that offer.” Bruce stood, carrying a now sleeping Dick in his arms. “He’ll be exhausted, so make sure it’s somewhere quiet.”

Chapter Text

When Dick was nine years old he introduced himself as Dick for the first time. When Bruce asked him about it, he said it was easier to vocalize, felt better on his tongue than Richard. In America the name had taken on a more vulgar name, parts of the English speaking world did as well, but it was a nickname for Richard for ages. And Bruce couldn’t exactly speak on old timey names, especially when he’d started calling him “chum.”

His legal name was Richard Grayson-Wayne. Most of the time he’d shorten it to just Dick Grayson, but the Wayne name came in handy more than a few times. It wasn’t just a matter of joining the family, it was a matter of what the name could give him. Society had given up on him and he faced what that really meant for months before his adoption, only given the time to grieve and recover in Bruce’s care. The Wayne name was the reason he’d be able to attend school, get health insurance, could travel wherever he wanted, and could finally remove his criminal record. That last one was more Batman’s doing but it still.

He’d gotten stronger, could finally enter real fights and had not only gotten back to his previous strength, but had gotten even stronger. Dick needed Robin, and so he’d go through his days training more and more, studying cases with Batman, and adored his time in the mask at night. Ever the performer and the sky his stage, Gotham his audience. 

***

“You know the Justice League?” Batman asked, Robin nodded. “Would you like to meet them?”

The boy nodded again, his eyes under the lenses went wide, and let out a small sound of excitement. They’d known of a vigilante child in Gotham and had been asking Batman about it, he brushed it off but knew it was a matter of time before they got involved. If anything, the more heroes to look after him the better. If Bruce couldn’t be there to protect him, maybe he could have an entire league by his side.

And so the next Saturday morning they teleported to the watchtower.

“It’ll be your first time in space, we’ll take it slow so you can see everything. But remember, no missions, just meeting the members. It’ll be a lot to take in so save energy.”

Dick tilted his head to the side and signed “nonverbal?”

“If that helps save energy then yes. Let me know if it’s too much, we can always go back home and go back. You can come back, the main thing today is meeting the other members and seeing the watchtower. We won’t go on a mission, perhaps another time but not yet.”

Dick nodded. And then they went. He first saw the window looking out at the Earth. Before Batman could stop him he ran forward and touched the glass, which was freezing, looking back and forth to Bruce to see if he saw it too. He couldn’t imagine getting used to this sight.

“I know.” Bruce knelt down beside him. “Want to stay here for a minute?”

Robin didn’t move his eyes, just nodded, and put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He took in the sight, and grinned wider than he knew was possible. He’d traveled the world with his mother and father, and his dad saved his life and took him to space. It was moments like this that Dick felt he must’ve been the luckiest kid in the world.

Eventually they went to a meeting room, it was big and while he’d seen rooms like it at Wayne Enterprise the few times he visited, this was much different. It was bigger, the room was darker, no windows, there were screens everywhere and a hologram projector in the middle of the table. It was a lot to take in, but the most exciting thing was the league themselves.

At the time Dick met the league, it was smaller, he was the only child, and he already knew some, but not all of them. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Arrow, Green Lanterns (Hal and John), Hawkgirl, Martian Manhunter, Aquaman, and Black Canary. There was a clearly new folded chair between two other seats, one of which was empty and the other occupied by Superman.

The rest of the league saw a kid in a red acrobatics shirt with a sewn R, green shorts, and a yellow cape, domino mask, warm toned skin, curly raven black hair, and pixie boots. In sharp contrast to the looming Batman who hovered over the child in a protective manor, his face unchanged while the kid grinned from ear to ear as the older man rested a hand on his shoulder.

“League, this is Robin. He’ll be joining us today as the newest and youngest member.” Batman said. Some of the members who hadn’t met him yet were a little confused.

“How old is he, six?” Hawkgirl asked. “No offense Batman, but are we sure it’s smart letting a kid this young into the league?”

Batman took his seat, let Dick sit in the temporary seat. “He’s nine, and he’s is not an official member yet, consider this a trial run.”

“Well I’m glad to have him around, if he’s gonna be a hero with or without us he might as well have our support just in case,” Superman said.

Flash leaned forward as Batman took out some sheets of paper and crayons and Robin began drawing. The kid was small, sure, and his costume was definitely more on the attention grabbing and colorful side, but he didn’t miss the gear and utility belt that was Batman’s signature equipment. “Well I wanna hear from Robin, hey kid, how you like the tower?”

Robin looked up, and gave him a wide toothy grin and thumbs up.

They all paused. “Um, does he talk?” Hal asked.

Robin shrugged and settled into his seat. Batman chimed in. “He’s partially nonverbal, if he wants to talk, he’ll talk. Now, we were discussing the drug syndicate that’s been going intergalactic. Lanterns, what’s your intel?”

“We’re just gonna move on from the fact a nine year old kid is sitting in on this meeting?” Black Canary commented.

“He won’t disrupt,” Batman said monotone.

Without bringing up further argument, the lanterns went over their intel and the league began planning a mission to handle the issue. Meanwhile Robin drew in crayon, Superman noticed a few familiar stick drawings, resembling members of the league, but the rest was hard to decipher. Either way he was fully engaged in his activity while the adults went over plans.

It was much easier to move on than they had expected, just as Batman had said, Robin didn’t disrupt. It was strange at first, some of the members were more careful with their language than others. But soon enough they had a plan, the only problems were the syndicate’s base on an asteroid had two entrances that were heavily guarded. They had vents but unfortunately they were too small and the air inside was toxic, inside it’d be heavily drugged so they all had to be careful who went in or out.

Then Robin snapped his fingers, grabbing the entire league’s attention. He held up his drawing, it featured a few members of the league, but the rest looked like odd scribbles. They all went quiet with the league’s expressions ranging from genuine curiosity to annoyance to simple confusion.

“What’ve you got there, Robin?” Superman asked.

“Thought you said he wouldn’t disrupt,” Green arrow said, crossing his arms. He’d been watching his language most from anyone in the group.

“He doesn’t unless he has something to say, Robin, what’s going on?” Batman looked at the drawing and pointed at a stick figure. “These people, are they the league?”

He nodded, and pointed at the hologram at the center of the table depicting the syndicate’s base. Batman took a moment looking at it, and shifted the picture under a lens to be projected onto the table.

 “Why’d he draw me orange?” Flash asked.

“He broke the red crayon,” Superman replied.

The scribble in the center of his drawing, matched the shaped of the syndicate’s base. However the places they’d planned for people to enter and attack were different, now with the lanterns at the vents using their rings to control the air’s output, superman at one of the entrances and martian entering through the vents wall to the engine room, and Batman at the other entrance closest to the storage.

“He… he improved the plan…” Canary said the quiet part out loud. “He heard everything we were saying and actually fixed the problem.”

“New issue with this plan, we’d be seen sooner,” Aquaman added.

“However I can turn invisible in the engine room, shut down power so they don’t see anyone coming.” Martian chimed in. 

“Robin, did you take that into account with this new plan?” Batman asked, Robin nodded.

He signed back, “This ok?”

“More than okay.” Batman took a moment, letting the league process their shock, better sooner rather than later they’d learn not to underestimate his kid. Even before his adoption, Dick was a brilliant kid, he picked up on a lot, was extremely adaptive and observant, he wanted him to listen in on the plan to see how the adults worked together. He had not anticipated him to improve their plan, to already prove himself equals among the league. “Alright, here’s the new plan…”

He took over to share the steps they’d take to take down the syndicate. They went over every step of the plan until it was perfect. Then they took the drawing and placed it in a file to be kept any time the issue returned. He also took note how the members responded after their revelations, who showed him the most respect after seeing his plan.

Their mission would occur the following earth day, until then they’d leave to prepare. Batman would take Robin home, while they’d take down the syndicate Alfred would be driving him to school. But that meant for the rest of the day he got to see the watchtower.

Most of the members had their own rooms whenever they stayed overnight, and they had many other rooms prepared for in case the league would expand. Dick got his own room, it was smaller but right next to Batman’s. It had a twin bed with polka dotted sheets and blankets and a nightstand with a blue colored lamp, there was a small computer he could use for research already childsafe, a small bookshelf with kids books, textbooks, and various dictionaries in different languages. There was a small connected bathroom and a closet akin to a hotel wardrobe meant more for storing superhero uniforms than a full wardrobe like he had at the manor. There was also a rock climbing wall with a soft mat on the ground, a ‘Bruce’ gift for Dick.

Robin looked up at his dad, and said just beyond a whisper, “thank you.”

“Of course, this is nothing, I hope you like it.” They took a moment for Dick to walk around and get familiar with the space before they moved on. He showed him the mess hall, training rooms, labs, and a few other areas he might need to know about. He showed him the medical bay but Robin clung tighter to Batman under his cape at the sight of medical equipment so they left before going further.

Internally Bruce could’ve cursed himself out for that moment. Of course he couldn’t handle the medical bay, not after what the doctors did to him in the hospital. He’d been able to open up more, and talked about being awake during the surgery and not recieving any pain medication, how he couldn’t move at all, couldn’t breath or eat on his own. If he were a hero it was only a matter of time before he got injured and he knew this would’ve been better than going to a hospital, but he also knew that’s why he needed the league. Batman was just one man, he was good at what he did, but the more people to look after his kid the better. They didn’t need to know who Dick Grayson-Wayne was to know Robin was a highly capable kid who could still get hurt in the mask.

He’d been getting tired, but they circled back around to the mess hall and Dick took his time looking at all the options before Batman let him get a bag of small cookies.

“Hey, Robin! Oh and Batman.” Superman flew over to them, the kid giggled at the Kriptonian’s entrance. He looked up to batman. “Everyone was impressed, how long is this trial run gonna last?”

“Till there’s no doubt. He’s already an unofficial member.”

Superman gestured to a table with the rest of the league. “Can he join for lunch? Let the others get to know him a little better?”

“Robin, remember secret identity, alright?” The kid nodded. “yeah, go ahead.”

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson’s first year with Bruce had been entirely focused on the adjustment. It took several months for the legal adoption to process. The first few weeks blurred into a strange dream of sleeping through his exhaustion, being woken to take medication or eat meals, then going back to sleep only to wake screaming in cold sweats from nightmares replaying the moments since the circus incident, then waiting for Bruce to get back from the cave to put him to bed, only to sleep even longer until he was awoken again.

His body was exhausted beyond what he thought possible, and after leaving the hospital he felt a constant ache in all his movements, he needed sleep, but he also hated waking up. It was a game, was the risk of exhaustion and pain worth the despair he’d feel waking up a hungry, shivery, mess.

His first meal at the manor was breakfast, it smelled wonderful, almost too wonderful and after some time gave him a headache. But it didn’t matter, he ate as much of the food as he could, only to feel nauseous after, having eaten too much too fast. Then there was the matter of what the food was. Some of it felt wrong, the touches giving him chills, others the tastes were too strong or too subtle.

The next meal, after spending the rest of the day resting in his room, lying on the floor, he was brought down for another meal. What he didn’t know is that entire day Dick was left alone while Bruce went through several meetings, filling out paperwork to finalize Dick’s adoption.

He wasn’t as hungry, the smell of food even stronger, and now his body had rested, his mind was left to wonder. He recalled his food being taken at the facility, the feeding tube at the hospital. He recalled the food his parents made, all of it would be different. And he remembered how much that first meal in the manor had hurt his stomach from eating too fast. Even though it had passed, he remembered all these feelings too well, the pain returning with those memories.

Bruce knocked on his door and after a moment of silence opened it to see Dick curled onto the floor, halfway under his bed watching the door like a hawk. The older man sighed through his nose, and knelt down to the bed. “Hi, can I join you?”

Dick didn’t reply, no sound or movement, but his eyes were locked on him.

Bruce took a few steps back and sat with his legs crossed on the floor, he hunched a bit to see Dick from under the bed. In Italian he asked, “I know you understand when I speak like this, do you speak it? I’d like to talk to you.”

Once again, no response. However at this Dick’s expression softened, so Bruce continued. “Alfred made dinner, can you join us?”

Dick was still for a moment longer before finally moving from under the bed. He stumbled as he tried to stand, Bruce instinctively hurried to help him, but the boy flinched at his touch, falling back over. He stood again, now keeping distance from Bruce.

“I’m sorry.”

Dick simply nodded and followed Bruce to the kitchen, holding the banister as he made his way downstairs. They went to the kitchen and this time, the memories still returning, he looked at the food, unable to move, his throat tightened as he thought of taking a bite.

Alfred turned to Bruce, while he typically remained expressionless Bruce knew the look of concern on his face when he saw it. “He can’t risk missing a meal, is there anything else the young lad could have?”

And so began the tedious process. Dick didn’t know what the adults in his life were doing during his adjustment. Only that time blended together, the meals, the nightmares, it all blurred together. But soon Bruce would comfort him as he went back to bed, sometimes letting him stay in his own bed.

Bruce recalled returning from the cave and going to bed, only a few minutes later hearing the quiet knock of a small child’s hand on his door. Hurrying to check, Dick had dried tears on his reddened face and was in his pajamas, hair tangled and arms wrapped around his body. Bruce knealed, without dropping his arms, Dick just stepped closer to Bruce who wrapped him in his arms. In his tired state he said, “you’re safe,” before being unsure if Dick knew enough English to understand that, so he repeated himself in Italian, then Greek, then French, then Spanish, then Russian, than Arabic, so on and so forth. He had clearly cried earlier, but they instantly returned and with small squeaks in his voice, the boy cried.

He continued crying for awhile, so Bruce picked him up and brought him to the bed. The crying stopped, and his son quickly fell asleep, his head nestled under Bruce’s chin, clinging to his dad. And so they continued this way, even when the nightmares became less and less frequent, whenever they returned he never had to explain himself. Dick knew to just go to Bruce’s room, tapped him on the shoulder, and he’d move over for Dick to join him. Sometimes there wasn’t a nightmare, it was just a thunder storm.

Dick never told Bruce, but sometimes on especially bad days, he worried he might get a nightmare and would preemptively go to his room in hopes he’d be protected there.

He started to see his dad as a shielding protection, he needed him. Sleep got easier, eating got easier, and soon he wasn’t resting off a constant pain or needed lots of medication to heal. He got stronger, healthier, and so much happier. But most of all he felt safer, especially with his dad.

There wasn’t an easy distinction between Bruce and Batman in his mind, they were both just his dad. Much like Dick would perform, he understood fronts better than anyone. But then came the Justice League, and while he knew Batman had a reputation to those who only saw him in the news or at most a figure in the shadows as he fought crime, seeing other heroes react to his presence was something else.

By the time Dick had joined the league, he was nine years old, beginning to vocalize slowly, and was the only child superhero in the world. He had a seat at their table, he’d sign in conversations, listen in on meetings no other kid, not even most adults, would ever get to experience.

He could tell they were adjusting to him, but there was an unspoken respect to all who wore masks and fought for the greater good. All in the watchtower had earned their rights to be there. Dick wasn’t as strong a superman, not as fast as the flash, not as ruthless as Wonder Woman. But without a dark exterior, he was just as mysterious and intimidating to the league.

Why was a nine year old child on equal footing with the entire league? Just in the first meeting, the rest of the heroes learned appearances can be deceiving, and they didn’t want to challenge him, because then they’d face both his wrath AND his father’s.

He loved the training rooms, many of the heroes would practice combat, or exercise. Dick liked climbing and doing acrobatics the most. He felt most at ease when his feet were in the air. He practiced his bridges and somersaults. 

While in a bridge he saw Flash enter and pass him. He shifted his weight to lift his hand and wave to the speedster, who waved back and laughed loudly at seeing the small acrobat.

“Flash,” he said, a wide smile on his face, though unlike Batman who tried to contain his reactions to Dick’s vocalizations, Flash turned wide eyed to see Robin kick up from the bridge onto his hands and land back on his feet. He had to process, this was the first time he’d heard his voice.

“You, uh, yeah?” Flash didn’t think to contain his surprise. “You spoke? You can speak!”

Robin snorted, then signed quickly. Flash wasn’t the best signer, he could learn quickly with the speed force, but reading a book on a new language was different when it was visual and he couldn’t make videos go at his speed.

Black Canary was close by, watching the entire interaction, the corner of her mouth upturned. “He’s saying thanks for having an easy name to vocalize, one syllable is easy for him to say.”

“Oh… oh!” Flash stammered. “I uh, yeah, you’re welcome? Oh wait who’s name is hard to vocalize?”

Robin thought for a moment, bit his cheek, and looked around. He slowly turned in a circle to see all the other heroes around him, and pointed at Martian Manhunter, before sounding “mm.”

Both Flash and Canary, sounding out his name, counting five syllables on their hands, matched their puzzled expressions. “Huh.”

Now with the victory of a name he could easily say, Flash’s interest was peaked. “Who else?”

Robin made his fingers form a W and brought it to his lips. Water.

“Aquaman?” Canary asked. Robin nodded. “What about me? Or Arrow?”

He moved his hand flat, shook a little.

“Sorta hard?” Canary seemed to process this. “Right, well I have four syllables and Green arrow is three. Though shortening it to Canary and Arrow is probably easier, right?”

Robin nodded with a grin. Then signed something in response.

“What’d he say now?” Flash asked.

“He says Hawkgirl is the hardest even though it’s only two syllables.”

“Oh. Honestly I understand that, I hear people mess that one up a lot.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“But you know what, this all means I win!” Flash exclaimed.

“You win what?” Wonder Woman entered the room.

Flash had too eager an idea. “Quick, Robin, where does Diana rank?”

Diana hadn’t seen what Robin signed, only that Canary rolled her eyes and Flash had a mischievous grin on his face. She figured they were either playing some confusing game that had no chance of being explained involving the league competing, or they were corrupting the young and innocent mind of Batman’s child.

“Do I want to know?”

“I win, Diana, that’s all you need to know.” Flash beamed in his response.

She crossed her arms. “Canary, should I be worried, should I get Batman?”

Robin turned to Wonder Woman and signed an explanation. Flash turned to Canary with an upturned eyebrow. Canary didn’t dignify a translation this time, but instead laughed as Wonder Woman’s expression turned from slight stress to subtle happiness.

Robin was Batman’s son, but he was the child in the entire league. They took their work seriously, Robin was a a presence, a constant reminder they were fighting for children like him. He could fight at their side and be their equals, but it wasn’t long before nobody could hide their smiles around him.

He hadn’t used his own room for some time, always visiting for short missions or meetings, occasionally for training or to meet other heroes returning from meetings, only using his room to rest before going back to Gotham with Batman.

Robin had spent an hour in his room reading while Batman was discussing matters with some of the league. When the discussion ended and everyone parted ways, Flash lingered.

“Yes, Flash?” Batman asked.

The speedster knew what he wanted to ask. “Yeah, it’s about Robin. Well, not about him but sorta, uh…”

Flash tried to remember what he wanted to say, he had the question and had to ask but knowing he had to say it and actually doing so were very different things. Batman didn’t need to be the world’s greatest detective to know that and figure out what was on his mind. “Let me guess, this is about Wally.”

“How’d you know about him?”

It was Batman’s job to know everything about the other heroes, even Dick had read most of their files though not all the most recent details. “You’re going to become his legal guardian? Or is it just Iris?”

“I’m not even gonna ask how you already know about that, but both Iris and me. Thing is, his dad, Iris’ brother, has a lot of issues. I don’t know the specifics around Robin’s recovery but I read Clark’s article, obviously they didn’t go through the same thing but how do you help a kid that needs to, I don’t know, heal?”

It was easier to talk once he began. Rudy and Iris weren’t on speaking terms, when Iris got the call that Wally ran away from home she didn’t hesitate to take him in. He got to their home bruised and hungry, he adored Iris and told her everything he went through, Barry waited just outside but hearing it still broke his heart. Barry hadn’t been close to him at that point, only having met him a few times, but immediately he saw in him the kids he tried to save, and saw a kid he immediately felt a need to protect, to help. Then he went to the watchtower and remembered another adopted kid he’d gotten to know.

“You mean how do you help a kid who doesn’t trust those who reach out?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“He didn’t trust anyone at first, I had to explain we weren’t that different. His circumstance was very different, if I didn’t intervene him he would’ve died multiple times over, he still hates the doctors, we haven’t even been able to take him to the dentist yet. Notice how he still avoids the medical bay? And he can technically vocalize but it takes a lot of energy”

“But he’s gotten better though, right?”

“Yes, it’s a slow process but kids are impressionable. We have to make sure they don’t end up like us.”

“So that’s why he’s Robin, huh? For justice?”

“He still hadn’t spoken about what happened that night. He’s opening up more but it takes time. Honestly, my best advice is for every step he takes, you take one. He opens up, share just as much. Kids are more trusting if they know who they’re talking to.”

“Maybe I should tell him I’m flash.”

“I never said that.”

Chapter Text

Halloween was always a dangerous time in Gotham. Children still went trick or treating. Teenagers and young adults still went partying. Most adults still participated in some way. But the rogues were always heightened, always had some big plan.

Batman couldn’t afford to be Bruce on Halloween, he couldn’t rest on that night, it was too dangerous. But now he had Robin.

Dick hadn’t gone trick or treating before, and he wouldn’t start in Gotham. Even in a costume in disguise, he wouldn’t risk it. He could join him as Robin, but the rogues were always more dangerous on Halloween than normally. Robin had gotten stronger, had gotten better at fighting, but this was something else. He’d accepted there was no stopping Dick Grayson from being a superhero, the best he could do was keep him safe. But this was another matter entirely.

Of course, while Dick traveled as a kid he knew of Halloween traditions, but taking part was something else. Alfred had placed a few pumpkins outside for the holiday. They never had children visit their home due to the manor having gates outside and being private property. In fact Bruce had stopped celebrating the holiday when he lost his own parents. But Dick hadn’t had that experience yet, so they’d adjust.

Bruce wasn’t sure what to do. Dick had signed to Clark at the tower that his best friend Barbara is dressing up as Strawberry Shortcake, and explained to him the character. Dick knew Bruce wasn’t comfortable with him joining her, he didn’t bother asking, but Bruce knew he was disappointed.

One day Dick came home with a small white pumpkin that fit into the palm of his small nine year old hand. In marker there was a children’s drawing of two figures holding hands and under the names ‘Dick’ and ‘Barbara’ were written, probably by an adult while the art by someone much younger. Alfred displayed it in the middle of the dining table.

Perhaps it was simply meant to be a kind gesture to make Dick’s own life part of his home, but Bruce felt it was a wake up call. He needed to be the kid that Bruce couldn’t be. “Alright, Chum, do you want to go trick or treating?”

Dick looked up, more from surprise than anything else, he figured Bruce wouldn’t allow it, let alone offer it. In truth he wasn’t sure if he was more disappointed he wouldn’t get to experience trick or treating or if he couldn’t join him on Patrol.

“I need to patrol that day, we can’t take that chance on Halloween, but maybe you can join Barbara? I’ll ask her dad, and you need to keep an eye out just in case. But if it means a lot to you, then we’ll make it happen.”

Dick thought to himself, he wanted to. Obviously he was well behaved enough it didn’t need to be asked. “Are you sure?”

“If you think you’ll be safe? Then yes.”

***

Jim, of course, was happy to let Dick join Barbara. At school they talked about what Dick should dress up as. On one hand it wasn’t Dick’s first time dressing up, but it was his first time trick or treating. She knew Bruce could get him any costume, no matter how last minute or ridiculous, but she also wanted it to be special for Dick.

“What about a cartoon character like me? Maybe you can be a prince or a knight?” She asked during recess as they sat on a patch of grass.

Dick shrugged. “What were you before?”

“Well, last I was Dorothy from Wizard of Oz, before that I was a witch, then I was a pirate, and before that I was Cinderella. Before that my parents picked my costumes for me and they don’t fit anymore, so they were donated. My old costumes are sorta girly, but does that give you any ideas?”

They talked a bit more, Dick thought about the costumes. In the end one day Dick went to Barbara’s house one day for a playdate and Barbara remembered her old costumes and pulled out a box of her costumes. Sometimes they kept them around for other costume events, but really they were just for the fun memories.

Dick saw the witch costume was purple with tiny bats and webs along the skirt, and the hat glew in the dark. Although it looked like a dress, it was actually two pieces. The first was a long sleeve turtleneck with coloring and layered fabric to appear as though it were a long sleeve undershirt and a black fantasy corset underneath, finished with sparkly bows on the shoulders as though holding up the fake second piece of clothing. Then the skirt was made of itchy fabric most costumes would have. If it weren’t for the awful texture, even if he wore something underneath, he wouldn’t mind how it flowed down with a cobweb pattern, and he could see why Barbara would find it fun.

The hat was a wide rimmed, cut to shape like another spiderweb while it curved upward almost like a crescent and at the tip hung a small five pointed star shaped pompom.

“This is cool,” Dick said. He’d slowly been getting more comfortable vocalizing, and Barbara had so many exciting things she always wanted to share with him it was getting easy around around her.

“Right?” She beamed in agreement. “Hey, maybe if you like it you can wear it for halloween! And you don’t even need the skirt since it’s not a dress! You can be a purple wizard!”

Dick didn’t care about boy or girls clothes. Frankly a lot of his current wardrobe was mixed with pieces from both sides, but he never told anyone. The only reason was because he was drawn to bright colors, and a lot of boys clothes tended to be very muted. Most of his clothes were boys but upon realizing Dick liked things that were brighter or stood out more, his family started integrating some pieces from girl’s clothing sections that he could wear without drawing too much attention while still feeling confident in his outfits. Ever the performer, even as Bruce and Dick, he still was just as colorful to his dad’s toned down attire.

But Barbara didn’t grow up in a circus, she wasn’t accustomed to his standard for costumes. It was odd, people often assumed he’d be more traditionalist with gender norms, in reality it hardly ever played a roll in in upbringing, he’d hear stories of course from the other circus members or from visitors, but nobody expected him to act or look a certain way, only to give his best during the show.

“Or just a witch with pants.” Dick signed with a smile so she knew he wasn’t upset. He started to imagine now his costume.

***

Time went and Dick was allowed to take the costume pieces home and he told Alfred his plan for his costume, they got to work immediately.

The top was kept the same, it was decent quality just underneath they changed a bit of fabric to hold up better and be a better sensory experience. It was also slightly tailored to fit his shame a little better, since it was originally bought two years ago by a seven year old Barbara and was now going to fit on a nine year old Dick.

For the pants they went with wide flared corduroy, black with small embroidered stars. As a small detail, Dick chose to make the stars into constelations, but didn’t connect the dots. The night was cloudy, but if it weren’t he knew he could point out all the same constellations in the night sky on Halloween.

They also chose a purple belt with a butterfly, and matching silver butterfly necklace. He wore ordinary sneakers under the pants, they were black but the main reason was so if he needed to run or move quickly he’d have an easy time, and so he wouldn’t hurt himself if he stepped on anything. On his wrist he had a blue watch with three buttons, it told the time, but it also tracked his location back to Batman’s tech system. The first button would alert Batman to go find him, the third would also alert Superman, and the third would say he’s safe but wants to go home.

Bruce told Clark the plan and asked he stay vigilant in case Dick needed help. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with this plan, but Clark wouldn’t let him down, at that eased his worries. And of course Dick loved that if he needed Superman would be there to save him. Bruce half suspected if anything went wrong he’d just click the superman button just to see him.

Of course there was also his candy bag. They went with an across the shoulder satchel in case the asymmetrical weight bothered him or if carrying something the entire time got tiring. It was still themed with his outfit.

And of course he was also given a riding broom, though at the end they attached a stun weapon and made it by wrapping a light metal rod so the weight wouldn’t give it away but would be useful in case something went wrong so Dick could still defend himself as a civilian.

If Batman’s kid would be out in public among a crowd of children on the most dangerous night of the year, he would use every trick in the book. Dick of course didn’t know the normal level of protection a child should expect for this. Barbara’s dad was the commissioner, after all, she knew how to fight and had a pocket knife and pepper spray in one of her pockets, and Jim watched them like a hawk.

They went to a candy-cane-lane, so the entire street was decked out in decorations and gave out plenty of candy. Arms locked, a purple witch holding a broom and Strawberry Shortcake holding a pink pumpkin basket, skipped house to house.

It was a loud night. Jim took photos, later that night he’d send them to Bruce. It was fascinating seeing other kid’s costumes. Many were store bought, all one piece and mostly plastic, if he needed he could probably navigate a fight in them but not as easily.

Many kids were dressed as recognizable characters or staple halloween things like cats or pumpkins. In that sense he and his friend blended in, for the first time in his life he could dress to stand out as much as he wanted and still blend into the crowd without a problem.

Perhaps that was the magic of Halloween, this was the one night a year that every kid got to experience what he didn every day. It wasn’t special to dress up, he wasn’t even wearing a mask. But he was still in costume, and this time he wasn’t surrounded by adults, but just other kids having fun.

This time a mask didn’t mean someone was a hero, just another kid having fun.

They went from house to house, repeating a few houses they really liked. The two kids snuck a few bites of candy which Jim pretended not to notice, it was just one night afterall. By the end they were both exhausted and if Jim hadn’t told them they were calling it a night as it was getting late, they probably would’ve continued until they passed out.

On the car ride home Jim called Bruce, who sounded busy and took several rings to answer but eventually picked up, the kids just heard Jim’s side of the call. “Hey Bruce, just letting you know the kids are done trick or treating and I’m taking them both back home. Yeah, they’re both doing good, there weren’t any issues. Yeah, alright sounds good, yeah I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Bye.”

They got home and made them both mac n cheese and chicken tenders for dinner and asked they each have just at least a little bit of salad. Dick started with the salad, picking out the onions and peppers first before eating. Barbara left the salad for last and took one bite of cucumber before moving on to her candy.

Dick didn’t come over often, and Jim recalled his case file before his adoption. He was mostly dealing with Batman trying to explain suspicious activity with the deaths at the circus and later getting a nurse arrested for harming the child. He also knew Barbara was his good friend, apparently the teacher asked her to spend lunch one day with him, just so he wasn’t as alone or bullies wouldn’t be so mean to him since she was fairly well liked and he was proud of his daughter for helping out the new kid. Then he heard that Dick didn’t talk and that she was learning to sign, she was still learning and had the basics down. And then he started hearing more stories, he started spending time with her other friends, and pretty soon they were best friends.

It was odd for Jim to think about, his daughter’s best friend is the adopted son of Bruce Wayne who’s appeared on a case file he’s worked with after Batman put him on his radar. The kid was sweet, he didn’t often talk but he laughed quite a bit.

He remembered the photos in the case, images of an abused and starved child on the brink of death, maybe it was especially hard to look at since he was a father, maybe that’s the only reason he realized how horrible it was. This didn’t look like the same kid, but he couldn’t get those photos out if his head, even now with Richard Wayne dressed as a witch and splitting candy with his daughter.

Barbara gave Dick all her coconut chocolates and Dick gave her all his white chocolates. They split their candy collections evenly while Hocus Pocus played in the background. Jim had a rule no scary movies on Halloween, even if he enjoyed the occasional horror film, he didn’t want to scare the kids, and he still couldn’t get that image of the hurt boy out of his head and didn’t want to subject him to anything scary.

By the end they were both exhausted and went to get ready for bed. Dick had already brought a backpack with pajamas and an outfit for the next day. Jim pulled out a spare mattress and with the door left wide open, they chatted the night away until they both fell asleep.

Really it was more, Barbara chatting the night away as Dick giggled, there were some moments of silence and Jim knew that meant Dick was signing before Barbara would start talking again.

If it were a school night, he would’ve told them lights out much earlier, but one night a year he’d let them have all the fun they wanted. The next day they’d be exhausted, he knew, but that was a problem for morning Jim. And Bruce didn’t need to know how much sugar he actually let the kids have.

***

When Dick got home the next day he went right to his room and went right back to sleep. Bruce got home far past sunrise only for Alfred to tell him Dick is home and in his room.

Bruce wanted to go to sleep, but first stopped by Dick’s room to check on him. “How was halloween, Chum?”

Dick groaned and mumbled half into his pillow. “Not yet, Dad, sleeping.”

Dick’s eyes were closed, he didn’t see the wide uncontained smile across Bruce’s face.

Chapter Text

The bat signal was out, which meant Batman and Robin would be out at night. For some it was enough to strike fear, enough not to break rules or hurt anyone, not wanting to be the ones they’d stop. For others it was enough to stay home, tonight wasn’t safe if Batman and Robin were needed. And then there were those who saw their presence as a challenge.

The two vigilantes crept along rooftops approaching a warehouse near the docs. The Penguin's henchmen carried crates to a boat, suited men spoke inside. Nobody saw the two masked figures approaching. Batman gestured to Robin, who nodded and rushed around to the back side of the warehouse.

Meanwhile Batman went the other way to the side, closer to the boat and the crates. Still unseen. He waited for his moment, needing a clear view of Panguin. Due to the nature of the business, Bruce never let Dick join him when entering the Iceberg Lounge, always having him stay as surveilance outside. But outside the lounge, they’d work together.

They’d received an anonymous tip that the Maroni family was working with the Penguin tonight, making a trades deal and two of their men were inside discussing further arrangements. Batman and Robin had two goals on this mission, stop the trade and catch the men in their meeting, figure out who’s behind these dealings.

Robin continued sneaking around the building, he could easily stay hidden as he listened in on the conversation. He could see the suited men clear as day now and… no. 

The penguin was there, and there was the man who cut the ropes. And now he heard a name. Tony Zucco.

But then he saw one of the henchmen, a man in a suit nodded to him, and he left, aiming a shotgun at Batman’s head, who was turned around and had no idea of the danger in front of him.

“Stop!” With all the energy Robin didn’t know he had, he leapt from the shadows.

…

Bruce called from the Batmobile close to midnight. “Alfred, prepare the medical bay, Robin was shot in the shoulder, he’s losing conciousness.”

Bruce drove as fast as he could, periodically turning to the passenger seat where Dick held his right shoulder, pressing as much pressure as he could, hissing through pain, as his mind grew foggy. Bruce could see the white lenses in his mask disappearing and reappearing as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“I got you, son.” And for both their sakes, Bruce found for the first time since that tragic night in Crime Alley, he prayed for just a little more time. I won’t lose another family, he though to himself.

They got to the cave quickly enough, Bruce managed to get out of the car and scoop up Robin in his arms and place him on a bed in the medical bay. Alfred had already prepped the station.

Alfred took some tools and began working quickly, moving his uniform and picking up various tools to treat the wound and remove the bullet fragment still stuck in his shoulder. There was an exit wound, that was good, but there was still something inside him, and that had left him seething in pain, torching his entire body and though he knew where the wound was a pain so sharp it felt infinite and everywhere.

Robin caught his breath, with his left hand more mobile he picked at his mask, not fully taking it off, but in the effort Bruce saw and helped remove it. He also helped remove the lenses and then removed his own cowl. 

“Why’d you do that? You know I have bullet proof gear?”

Dick winced in pain, but it wasn’t as horrible as the sight. And thanks to him now they both get to live. “I-” He tried to speak before a violent cough ripped through his throat, it burned but thankfully no blood came out, it felt more so from holding back crying that his lungs protested.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to speak if it hurts.”

“N-no.” That wasn’t it, or maybe it was and the hurt all blended together. But he needed to tell his dad. “I c-can’t let him t-take an… anoth-er… f-family from me.”

Bruce’s eyes widened at that. No, that couldn’t be. “Another… who?”

“He needs blood.” Alfred said as he finished stitching the bullet wound on both sides of his shoulder. He set up a needle to his vein and soon Dick’s dissiness began to fade, he was still in pain, but felt more focused.

“T-Tony” Dick began, he could feel his voice going out, and pushed through. If he pushed to speak even if it hurt, he knew that meant he’d be unable to speak for awhile, and he’d be vulnerable to a lot worse. His ability to vocalize never ended at speech but was the first sign at everything else that happened in his life. As he said the name it began to rasp more and more.

Bruce knew it too, it hurt, and maybe with the bullet wound he couldn’t tell if this was his limit or not, too overwhelmed. On one hand, this all began because Batman had a mission to find the man who killed the Flying Graysons, Dick was a witness and a kid who lost his parents. This was never meant to happen. But if saying the name of the man who took everything from him caused him even a moment of pain, that wasn’t worth it.

“It’s ok. His name is Tony something, I’ll look it up on our databases. Save your energy, it’ll be okay.” with both hands he took Dick’s free hand, held it tightly. “We’re both here, we’re both alright.”

Dick nodded, finally letting tears stream down his face, he kept quiet, but he agreed. With the little strength he had left he held Bruce’s hands back, as his shoulder began to feel numb and the pain began to fade more. He wasn’t sure if he’d crossed his talking limit or not, they’d tell soon enough. And thankful for the medical bay he trusted Alfred entirely.

This was different then that time in the hospital. Then he was scared, on the brink of death, and strangers poked and prodded and he couldn’t do anything as they lied about his pain for some reason beyond him. They couldn’t kill him because word got around about Bruce Wayne adopting him. He suddenly had too much attention on him, so they did the next best thing, send a warning.

That’s how the thought dawned on him. If Zucco was arrested, would they know it was because Dick was the only witness? That was why they targetted him, right? They killed his parents once, they got him locked away and then the hospital. Bruce Wayne was an important public figure, but they’d go after Batman, who was to stop them from going after Bruce?

Of course he wanted justice, how couldn’t he? He wanted that man to pay for what he took from him, for all he’d suffered since. But now he had healed enough to have something to lose. If he lost everything now, what did that leave him with? Now the adoption was finalized would he inherit an empty manor and the Wayne business just like his dad? Once again an orphan out for revenge.

Dick knew Zucco had people working for him, knew from how his people infiltrated the police to get him locked up for no good reason leaving him with a criminal record that almost cost him his life. If Bruce hadn’t gotten involved and had more power in just his name than Zucco had in numbers he would’ve died. Even the doctors and nurses were involved. They had to save him in that surgery, but they still kept him awake, kept any painkiller away until the Wayne name held more power and his dad watched them give him any medication. For weeks he was stuck motionless in that horrible hospital bed in that horrible room with an unending fever and pain all over occasionally being force fed through that horrible tube.

Zucco wanted to get away with murder so bad he had to ruin an eight year old kid’s life. It took a year for him to be able to speak even semi regularly, to regain his weight and muscle, to not wake up every night from nigthtmares and to trust people around him again. He had to learn English, start a new school, leave behind his entire life and once his body was healed he had to learn an entirely new normal.

Things were okay now, but that shift still hit him. Things still weren’t normal. The public still kept him out of place, never letting him forget he wasn’t a Wayne by blood, that he wasn’t meant to belogn there. All this he still blamed Zucco for.

There were monsters all over Gotham he could put away, all that anger, he could take it out on them. He didn’t know how far Zucco’s reach was, perhaps every single one worked for him. No matter how deep the issue ran, it was a constant reminder the corruption ran deep and he could only tie one name to the blame. No matter how much deeper the problems were, no matter how much older they were by centuries before Zucco, all Dick in his year as Robin could do was blame Zucco since that night.

He had to stop him, but what happened if his connections ran through prison and they went after him again. Or worse, what if they left him alive again and he was to blame for hid dad’s death. But what was the alternative? Let him go free and let him hurt more kids? destroy more lives? Let his corruption dig it’s filthy hands deeper just because he was scared? Bruce had some protection, he used that to get Dick out of harms way, but catching him, that was different. How far would he go to save his own skin, he already sent a bunch of his henchmen to torture a child, would he care about Bruce’s status?

***

Batman’s medical equipment was far more advanced than the average doctor would provide so within a weekend he was already healed. Perks of working with the Justice League and having access to technology made by the best of the best.

He was already dismissed from P.E. when he was enrolled. At first it was due to his health but then it was to save energy since he was already active as Robin, that time instead he’d work with a private tutor. He only had to worry about limited motor skills for two school days.

Soon his shoulder was healed but Batman still kept him benched one more day, just letting him train. He joined Alfred at the computer while Bruce went out alone. Luckily no reporters shared that Robin got shot, and it wasn’t the first time Dick had skipped a patrol since he took on the mantle, so he wasn’t worried about that.

Occasionally Alfred would chime in while Batman was out on patrol, sharing information on the computer or checking locations. The rest of the time Alfred assisted on Bruce’s search for ‘Tony’ and Zucco was on the suspect list.

Dick was dressed in athletic wear for training, he no longer needed bandaging around his shoulder though in the tank top a prominent new scar could clearly be seen along his stitches.

“Mm,” Dick tried to point at the image. He knew Bruce had been looking for Zucco but had been going it alone mostly, Dick hadn’t been able to vocalize beyond short sounds since, he definitely pushed past his limit that night.

“What is it, Lad?” Alfred asked, turning the chair to allow for Dick space closer to the computer. Dick typed a bit and clicked on Zucco’s file. He worked for the Maroni family, while not in charge, he was fairly high up in status.

For some reason that didn’t compute. In Dick’s mind he must’ve been in charge, the leader. But that meant people cared what happened to him, he was valued by his higher ups, which felt even scarier. So the question was who would go further to protect their own? Bruce Wayne or the Maroni family.

“That’s him.” Dick signed.

Alfred was still for a moment. Only a slight change in his demeanor showed he was processing this information before quickly tapping at the voice comm. “Batman, return to the cave. Robin had confirmed the identity of Tony Zucco as the man who shot him.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end before Batman spoke. “He works for Maroni, right?” Alfred confirmed before Batman continued. “I’m outside GCPD, I can get information from Jim, then I’ll be at the cave with whatever I’ve learned. Tell Robin to stay inside no matter what.”

Dick wasn’t ready to go out as Robin quite yet, but he knew Bruce well enough at this point to understand what he was really saying. Bruce wouldn’t take down Tony Zucco without Dick at his side, so he shouldn’t worry about him being alone against him. It was an order, but more than anything it was meant to ease his nerves.

Now it was only a matter of time. And once again that fear returned. A year of peace, of freedom. Either the nightmares would finally come to an end, or they were choosing to remove their false safety just to remove one piece of a far worse puzzle.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

The ropes broke. He saw his parents fall to their deaths, saw their bodies hit the ground. He watched the terror in their eyes in their final breaths. And before he could reach for his mother’s hands he was dragged away. Unable to grieve, forced to survive. First they broke his heart, then his mind, then his body. And now his soul was left to pick up the pieces.

In that first month in the manor, time passed so strangely, he wouldn’t have known how much time passed until he was out of it. The first three months were the roughest of his recovery, and then Robin was introduced and he found a way to exist and not just survive.

During those months sleep blended days and nights, he didn’t remember eating or going to sleep, climbing up stairs, being carried when he was too lethargic, being bathed and his teeth brushed when he couldn’t hold himself up, arms being added to his dining room chair when he passed out just reaching for a fork on a particularly bad day.

He recalled one morning he’d gotten out of bed all on his own, and he was hungry. They had to leave his door open for safety, sometimes he’d go to Bruce’s room or Bruce and Alfred needed to get inside and couldn’t get a response in his state. When standing was too much he crawled to the stairs and laid down against the railing until he fell back asleep. He was woken by Bruce picking him up and carrying him down to the kitchen.

He dissociated during a lot of meals. Sometimes he couldn’t explain why foods hurt his senses until he’d be put back in bed and suddenly throw up and they’d have to change sheets. As he healed it got easier to enjoy a broader category of food, but early on Alfred had resorted to what most would consider ‘sick day foods’ until his stomach and senses could handle more.

The first few days he tried to have some semblance of normal, but quickly found how much energy they took made him even more exhausted, he needed to rest more than he could feel. He wouldn’t get out from bed unless woken, he’d change clothes to new pairs of pajamas.

He was carried a lot, partially to save energy and also it helped to be off the ground. It always calmed him to be in the air to an extent and now was no different. He knew there were great lengths the adults in his life went to preserve his energy, making sure all he had to focus on was healing and resting, but he could never tell the full extent, especially when time blurred.

In those early months Bruce was in and out of meetings all day finalizing the adoption, arranging for all his paperwork and making sure it ran smoothly so Dick didn’t have to worry about it on his end. Meanwhile Alfred made sure he took his medication and brought him to Leslie Thomkins regularly, kept him fed and checked on him while he slept most of the day. In that time he couldn’t protest the help even if he wanted, and learned to trust Alfred was actually helping him. And when he was awake but had no energy to move, he grieved his parents, his old life, the kid he used to be and the person he would’ve become.

Despite the sudden safety, he kept fearing food would be taken away, his bed be taken away, or punished for making too much sound. It took so much energy to stand, to dress, to focus his mind and listen to people talk to too long. To take in lots of sounds and lights. The manor was always somewhat dim and quiet, he wasn’t sure if it was because of his healing or if it had always been that way.

Sometimes the bed felt so far he couldn’t reach and recalled being pulled out of bed and beaten by the bigger kids at the youth center. It was easier to lay on the floor or hide behind clothes in his closet than climb up into bed until an adult would find him and tuck him in. He recalled the adults watching. And in those dreams he memorized their faces, playing on repeat night after night.

It was another night like this. It’d been over a month since the last nightmare. Dick had hoped he was over them by now, Bruce worried that just mean they’d forget how to handle the next one. 

He twisted and tensed in his sleep, his dark, wavy hair drenched in sweat. He saw Zucco kill his family, again and again and again. And now his dad, he saw Batman fall from his grapple hook and Dick suddenly too weak to reach for it and save him even now. He dreamed of the hospital and lying on the operating table with Joker and a scalpel digging through him. He saw the GCPD step aside as his classmates dragged him back to the youth center. In a dark cold cell with everyone gone, he couldn’t tell how much time had passed until Zucco stepped into the room, and suddenly everything was freezing, he burned with cold and everything grew numb until he said, “I’ll make you live with it again.”

He didn’t register when he woke or if his thrashing had been in his dream. Strangled by blankets and pajamas, he could’ve drowned in his pillows. His voice already hurt from before he couldn’t even scream now, all that came out were gags and violent wet coughs. He was shaking horribly, and the sweat made the fabric cling to his skin even worse.

Clawing at anything that felt wrong he tried to squirm away, his breathing getting faster and shallow. He couldn’t focus on one thing. Dad, Alfred, Mother, Father, Barbara, Jim, Superman, the League, Zucco, Robin, Dick, Richard Wayne, Gotham, Maroni, Hospital, Gunshot…

Everything circled through until he felt a thud as he fell out of bed. He needed his dad. He needed to be saved. He tried to stand but felt all his bones give out.

Dick let out a gasping cry, all rasp and no voice left, “DAD!"

He clawed his way across his hardwood floor, after three failed attempts to throw an arm at the door to open it finally succeeded in slowly lifting himself up to open it before stumbling through the hallway to the master bedroom.

***

Bruce, for as long as he could remember, was a light sleeper. He’d heard movement in the hall but then a strange thud against his door jolted him out of any slumber he could pretend to maintain. 

It wasn’t a knock, more like a full body crash against his door. And the body sounded small. Oh, Bruce thought, this isn’t good.

Before he registered what he was doing he ran to the door and threw it open to see the state his son was in.

Dick had been hyperventilating, gasping for air between violent dry coughs and gagging, he was soaked in sweat but shivered as though he were freezing. His eyes red from crying and almost far too dilated pupils, unfocused on anything or anyone in particular. His pajamas looked twisted and not properly on, a button in the middle undone and one pant leg pulled all the way up and the other rolled over his heel like a half sock. How he managed to mangle himself into this state he had no idea, leave it to an acrobat child with unimaginable night terrors to shatter the new parent side of Bruce.

But what truly alarmed Bruce was the bright red and raw scratch marks visible along his neck and face as the boy clung to his sides, nails that had grown out a little dug into his skin and his fingers looking almost bruised, the scratches themselves didn’t break skin, but it was irritated enough to shatter his dad’s heart. In all the time Bruce knew Dick, he’d never accidentally hurt himself in distress, this was entirely new and horrifying.

He almost reached out to hug the child before stopping himself. “Dick, son, can you hear me?”

Dick nodded, moving his head almost too forcefully.

“Okay, I got you, can I hold you?”

Dick nodded, again, this time remarkably subtly and almost missed with the rest of his shaking. Bruce completed his hug this time, he worried how Dick would react but he pressed deep into Bruce’s embrace, and his shaking eased as Bruce held tighter and tighter.

“I got you. You’re safe. We’re safe.” And they were safe, he repeated that last part in the languages they both knew until Dick’s breathing eased.

He knew Dick wanted to go to sleep in his bed tonight, but he couldn’t just leave him like this.

“Was it a nightmare?” Bruce asked, Dick nodded against his chest. “Alright, let's take care of this.”

It’d been awhile since a nightmare was ever this bad, even at his worst he’d never been so disoriented when he’d woken, he’d never seen him scratch himself like that before. It must’ve been the news about Zucco, he figured.

He slowly picked up his child and carried him to his bathroom. Bruce gave him a small stim toy while he began to run a bath with warm water. It didn’t need to be a long process, just enough to wash off the sweat and reset his system, help regulate him just a bit. Luckily Dick never had issues with the texture of water.

He said just above a whisper they’d get him cleaned up before going back to bed. Dick nodded, and with Bruce’s help, he undressed and stepped in the bath, fixated on the stim toy. The warmth helped steady him more than feeling clean. With a new set of pajamas, they’d began keeping spares in Bruce’s room for these events, he felt calm and safe again. Bruce brushed his hair and dried it with a towel, careful around any knots. He put a gentle kid-friendly face lotion on the scratches to ease whatever pain that might’ve been causing, carefully rubbing his thumb over the irritated lines on his skin. Dick leaned into the touch, his arms limp at his sides. They already began to fade, but the sight still left a knot in Bruce’s stomach.

“Feel better?”

Dick nodded again, eyes in tiny crescents feeling heavy again. Bruce picked him up again, just as he was taking him back to bed Bruce felt his breathing slow against his chest, the steady exhale against his neck easing by the time he reached his bed, the boy was already asleep again. He tucked him into bed and held him tight as the night went by.

Bruce couldn’t go fully back to sleep, the sight of his child so distressed stuck with him. He’d been used to sleepless nights, to functioning with hardly any rest. But trying to stay still and close his eyes was almost enough.

With the normal Thursday morning Dick began to stir in his sleep, the boy's alarm clock would go off soon. Bruce placed a hand on the back of Dick’s head, listening for his breathing. As he began to wake, he felt more present than he had the previous night.

His throat burned still, his face ached, and he felt sore everywhere, especially around his new scar on his shoulder. He tried to remember what happened, he knew he had a nightmare, and the shock and overstimulation made him freak out. He recalled how uncomfortable his own skin felt, the temperature and sweat made him feel wrong all over so he scratched at himself and suddenly the pain blended into his panic. But now he was safe, he felt better, calmer.

“Awake?” Bruce asked in a whisper. Dick nodded and sat up. The scratches looked mostly gone now, and he hadn’t continued at night, but recalling the sight still left a pit in his stomach.

“What happens if he goes after you?” 

“What?”

“He has connections. He didn’t just cut the ropes. At the center, hospital, they went after me. If we take him to jail he could hurt you. He already tried to hurt you as Batman, what if he hurts you as a civilian?”

In response Bruce signed back. “I’m used to people after me as a Wayne, he’s not the first. We’ll find out how deep his connection goes, and we will stop him. Do you know why?”

“Because we’re Batman and Robin?”

“Because we’re Batman and Robin.”

***

Dick took the day off school and Bruce took the day off work. After a simple breakfast with Dick’s safety foods they went down to the cave and began going through databases of everyone with connections to Zucco.

Dick remembered everyone’s faces perfectly, pointing out every cop, doctor, and passer by who had any connections to his early torments. It was an extensive list. The kids at the center were trickier since they weren’t necessarily working for Zucco moreso incentivized by security to hurt him.

Dick practiced hacking with Bruce’s supervision that allowed him to find transfers of money all linked back to Zucco directly, under various names they could decipher as him. It was nobody else who worked for Maroni, just Zucco’s involvement.

Soon they compiled a list of all the police and government agents who worked under him as well, all the connections. It went deep. But not as deep as a Wayne connection, and far less than Batman.

They pieced together what happened at the circus that night. They set up on Maroni territory and asked for money in exchange for them staying, and extra for safety. Haly didn’t have that kind of money, so they took something else.

They almost got away with it, but didn’t anticipate the trapeze artists having a kid, how could anyone predict Dick Grayson? His existence before gotham was mostly word of mouth, a few posters, and a French passport that’d been expired and out of stamp space a year before arriving in the US yet somehow the circus made due.

Zucco had to react quickly realizing if this kid shared what he saw it could be over for him. But when he realized this kid could disappear and the world wouldn’t know he even existed, he had a solution. But again, nobody could predict Dick Grayson. Even Dick Grayson couldn’t predict his own survival in those months, let alone he’d be the one to hand Zucco over to Gordon in a domino mask and cape.

They’d made a plan, found his home, where he’d be that night. It was easy to compile the list of everyone involved, exposing the paper trail, and sending it to Commissioner Gordon. All of it came back to Zucco, all the people who targeted eight year old Richard Wayne, the involvement with the circus, his reaches within the GCPD. 

As soon as the sun fell, it was time. The Bat Symbol went up, and Batman and Robin were on a mission. They wasted no time. A glass window shattered. Two vigilantes hurried past in a blur. Tony Zucco in a desk one moment, and suddenly handcuffed and dragged by a bat and bird. He struggled with fake innocence.

Gordon had been on the roof of GCPD with a handful of cops who weren’t involved in the Maroni case. Robin landed first followed by Batman. Robin kicked Maroni to the cops, he fell to his knees. Zucco didn’t bother speaking, they all knew what he was guilty of.

But Zucco wouldn’t go down so easily, and so the trial begins.

Chapter Text

Thursday night, Batman and Robin caught Tony Zucco. Friday morning, Bruce Wayne pressed charges. The trial began, and it lasted ten months. It seemed every day there were new testimonies, new witnesses and the web of crimes grew bigger and bigger.

Bruce: “For me, it was a normal night until Batman showed up and told me to go to the hospital and help Richard Grayson. That was all, he disappeared after that. It was late, I figured I’d go first thing in the morning. I got to the hospital at 7am… a nurse brought me to Richard, he was asleep. … He was all bones and sick. I decided I’d pay for his treatment however the nurse told me that wouldn’t work since he didn’t have health insurance… No, I don’t remember her name… When I tried to place him on my health insurance it took awhile since his records were sparse. I decided I could adopt him, become his guardian. My reasoning was my home had ample room and even after he recovered he still needed a home and support system.”

Dick gave his testimony with a trusted interpreter Bruce chose. He recalled telling the events, even as he sat he felt he was shaking and worried he would’ve collapsed from anxiety if he stood. But they took in his words, everything he shared, witnessed, and gone through added to the case. The more he told, the longer the case would take, but the more evidence they could gather.

Richard: “I grew up in the circus… We were the Flying Graysons… I saw him cut the rope. I recognize him as the man who cut the rope… I tried to run to my parents, the cop dragged me away… I didn’t understand why, nobody explained it to me…[objection].

In that moment he wished he could’ve lied, skim over details. He couldn’t just say he was awake in surgery, he had to recall everything he felt, every time they lied and how mortifying it was to trapped for so long. He had to repeat every act of violence and every horrifying moment in great detail, and every day in that court house he relived it.

Clark: “I’ve been working at the Daily Planet for six years. For the last two I’ve been collaborating with Mr. Wayne on private interviews and publicity… He brought me to see Richard. I took photos, but I couldn’t interview him, he couldn’t talk or even move. After about a week Mr. Wayne noted his hand could move a little so we asked yes or no questions. He admitted he wasn’t given pain medication or anesthesia during surgery. My article at first was meant to announce Mr. Wayne was adopting Richard Grayson, however after we discovered the doctors weren’t treating him properly we agreed I’d instead expose his crimes… Yes, we have video recordings in GCPD custody where I asked him yes or no questions confirming everyone at the hospital who caused issues, then we asked about the youth center.”

Time began to cycle in a cruel pattern. He saw those moments repeat in his dreams, in the court, in school when students whispered about it, when he saw it mentioned on the news. It followed him, ever creeping around the corner until he put on a mask and could quite literally be someone else.

Mr. Haly: “He started performing with his parents when he was five, he was quite the prodigy. That was part of the appeal for their act, an entire family performing together. The Graysons were lovely people, anyone would tell you that. Richard’s a good kid. I’ll be honest, I didn’t believe it that he’d cause any trouble when his parents died. Glad to know I was right. The circus isn’t the same now without them, but we also weren’t given a way to contact Richard. I would’ve taken him in if circumstances were different. I’m glad he found a home, but I still got concerns, he must’ve been shell shocked from the whole experience, he was only eight.

It was much easier to be Robin than Richard in that moment. He could put everything he had into the mission so he could get through the trial, the mission came first, and it was easier to be driven towards another justice than to face his own.

Which led him to the watchtower, training intensely, becoming among the top five in combat abilities and easily the best acrobat. He contributed more in meetings, able to speak in certain moments but entirely silent as a civilian. He researched cases and studied files of vigilantes and rogues all around them.

This led him to investigating an extraterrestrial crime syndicate that had been attacking Earth’s ships and satellites, they weren’t high on the priority list until a satellite had been destroyed and crashed in southern Europe. Some of the league helped on a humanitarian mission, but when they returned, Robin called them all to a meeting.

Diana: Proud of you, he’ll get what he deserves, promise

Dick: Thank you, I hope so

“The satellite that was destroyed shows damage from energy rays that connects to these other attacks.” Robin said as he adjusted the hologram to display gathered photos and his research. “The group responsible all have been spotted to gather and leave from the asteroid belt, primarily here… I’ve studied when they leave and return. If we infiltrate with stealth at the right time, we can catch them all without losing a single life. Hal, John, would we be able to turn them into the Green Lantern Corp for further action?”

“That’d be doable.” John said. “How soon should we call them?”

Barbara: Hey Dick! Dad and I are watching the news, good luck on the case! See u tomorrow at school!!

Dick: Thanks babs!! So nervous but hope we win <3

And so the plan began. The next night while the astroid base was hidden behind mars and in ‘nighttime’ the league made their way. Everyone made it inside, hardly any fighting took place except when caught or the criminals showed resistance. Some were humans, but most were extraterrestrial from various different planets and solar systems.

Everyone followed Robin’s orders perfectly, going where necessary, taking out weapons and surveilance when needed. In total twenty six people were taken and brought into custody.

He was nine years old when he lead his first successful mission with the league. When he returned back home to Gotham, he was driven to the courthouse for more statements in the trial. He couldn’t chime up to argue against anyone, to add to what they wanted to say. He’d given his statement. Once he finished speaking, they no longer had use of him, but he still had to listen to everyone else’s sides of what happened.

Lawyer: “Is it true you didn’t understand the English language when you arrived to America?”

Richard: “I understood a few words and common phrases, but I didn’t understand most of what people said.”

Lawyer: “Is it true you broke curfew and tried to run away from the Gotham Juvinile Detention and Youth Center?”

Richard: “Well, yes.”

Lawyer: “So you could understand escaping jail is illegal, were you also aware this was the equivalent of what you attempted?”

Richard: “...yes.”

They were looking for the truth, looking for what really happened without external opinions. He didn’t know why they needed so many other views, why it had to take so long, why they had to question his own experience. Why was there a question of Zucco was innocent or guilty, why was there doubt in what Dick saw, what he felt, what he knew happened to him.

Leslie: “Richard was transferred to my care after three weeks in Gotham Public Hospital. He had a fever of 101 degrees. He weighted 34 pounds, the average for a boy his age and height should be 55. He was also severely sleep deprived. I prescribed vitamins to help with weight gain, pain medication that would help him fall asleep, and a fever reducer only to be used for three days. He struggled with eating in the first month after leaving the hospital, his motor skills were limited, lethargy made it hard to eat for long periods of time. A week later Bruce reported sensory issues that added to his dietary struggles. When I heard that I referred him to a trusted Psychiatrist… He had full physical use of his vocal cords, even when nonverbal. There was no physical damage to his voice.”

They needed Leslie’s medical report to confirm what really happened at the hospital. They couldn’t just believe he was awake in the surgery, they needed the surgeon to admit it himself. They couldn’t just believe he was starved at the youth center, or that he was never meant to be in juvie, they needed the guards to confess they let it happen.

Clark: You got this kiddo!

Dick: Thanks Clark!!

Clark: Hey how bout before we go to the daily planet we get ice cream?

Dick: Ya my dad says thats ok

Clark: great, don’t worry about the interview Lois and I will keep everyone in check

Dick: Thanks, not sure if I’ll be vocal or not then but either way it really helps

Clark: any time

He leaned into being Robin because he could lead and be equal to everyone around him, there was no doubt in his expertise, in his knowledge or how deserving he was to sit among them in meetings. There was no need to question his body, his mind, any more than there was need to keep the others in check.

Richard: “I started getting sick after I ran away, I didn’t get a lot of sleep or eat enough so it didn’t go away, my fever got worse and I couldn’t avoid the bigger kids, so I ran away and Batman found me [Objection].”

People who didn’t know Robin doubted at first, sure, but they quickly began to trust him. Some knew his identity, those were the ones who never changed how they treated him during the trial. The heroes who didn’t know his identity might’ve picked up his emotional state, they could tell he was appearing more frequently.

Lawyer: “Richard Wayne claims nobody explained why he was arrested, however all the officers from the scene claim otherwise.”

Bruce could see him training more, preferring to research cases, both within Gotham and affecting the league as a whole, rather than work on homework or experience anything as Richard Wayne. He didn’t spend as much time on schoolwork or with Barbara, it was understandable, but still concerning.

Richard: “they’d take my food, so I’d go days without eating. They dragged me out of bed, so I stayed awake for days until I couldn’t stay awake. If I made any sound, they’d notice I was near by and they’d beat me up. I was scared and suddenly I couldn’t talk [objection].”

 

Richard: “I was awake, I remember them cutting through me and later I realized it was surgery. The nurses didn’t gave me any medicine to manage the pain [objection].”

Almost every night he woke up with nightmares. Sometimes Alfred said he found him in the library in the early morning hours, sometimes he’d wake up Bruce on particularly bad days or climb into bed and Bruce would only find out when he woke to see a scared child huddled beside him. He woke up and rarely would go back to sleep now, instead using that time to train.

Bruce: “When he was brought home he was too tired to stand on his own for very long. We had to be careful not to feed him too much food at first, his stomach was sensitive and he was very small. I took him in so he’d get the medical and legal support he needed. I’ve started to see him as a son, and I’ll protect him as such.”

That’s what caused him concern. Bruce knew what it meant to disregard his own well being for the mission when the mask as Bruce Wayne became too much to bare. But now he had a kid, and he couldn’t let him become him, Robin wasn’t Batman, he couldn’t be.

So Bruce was stricter on bedtimes now, he had more sleepovers with Clark and even other league members. And reluctantly, Bruce had to manage his own schedule better, if he led as an example it meant he had to take care of himself so his son would too.

And then he turned ten. Dick and Bruce flew to Smallville to avoid the Gotham press and attention. They spent the week at the Kent farm, Clark showed him around the farm and let him meet his parents. The fields gave him plenty of room to run around, meanwhile he slept in soundlessly at nights.

Leslie: “While it’s an oversimplification that gymnastics and acrobatics can make one short, consistent acrobatic training from a very young age can delay growth spurts and overall growth. This must be taken into account for his health, even for his short height for his age, he was still severely underweight.”

There was little left Bruce could get Dick he couldn’t buy him any other time of year, in a strange sense there was little material value in the Wayne house, little that would mean anything. But there were still things he could get him.

Lawyer: “Security footage from the Youth Center shows he was handed food, and as Dr. Thomkins has stated he was abnormally short for his age due to gymnastics. There isn’t enough evidence of his starving to use against the guards who’s job it is to keep children safe.”

He could get him justice, he could get him freedom, he could give him peace of mind as he slept, find ways to take away nightmares.

Hey there Chum,

Happy Birthday!

Have as much cake as you want today, no one will stop you.

Dad