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Dick didn’t have the heart to turn on the radio as he drove.
Outside, the usual Gotham fog shrouded the car. It was a beat-up rental under Oliver Queen’s name, because Bruce never checked what Oliver Queen did, what he loaned, what he paid for. He didn’t have access to that. Sure, he had access to Green Arrow’s purchases, but only when he used the Justice League card. Oliver had paid for the thing in cash, helped Roy drive out the motorcycles with Dinah’s help, and now they were getting information in Gotham City. They would catch a flight back to Star City in the morning, or Will or Jim would come and pick them up. Since it was League business, technically, they might even take a Zeta tube back to Star.
In front of them, Roy and Jason drove the cycles. They were tight to the van, tight to one another, and Dick couldn’t even blame them. Hopefully Jason’s right shoulder wasn’t bothering him. Dislocations sucked. Evergreen trees flicked in and out of the fog, golden light from the few streetlights cast down around them.
Taking a slow breath, Dick adjusted his fingers on the wheel. Wally glanced his direction. Still, he didn’t say anything. His eyes flicked down to Dick’s hands, brows furrowing, and then he turned back. The fog was almost settling on them, muting everything but the humming of engines, the grind of wheels on asphalt, the soft breathing of Tim in the back while Steph snored away. Presumably, Barbara was already at their safehouse in Star. She was meeting her dad. Jim Gordon wouldn’t be able to do anything until he got back to Gotham City, and he might not be able to do anything at all, but they would still be able to get him the information safely.
Poor Babs was also explaining the batshit insane…well, Bat Shit.
On the one hand, Dick wanted to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. On the other hand, he didn’t want to know. How would he even be able to help? He could barely even catch his own breath, and it wasn’t just because of his bloodied nose. Sure, it had been set, but—
He glanced at the others in the back of the van. They had thrown their go-bags into the way back of the van, some pillows stuffed in for a bit of cushioning. They would have to get Damian’s pets later, if they were able to at all. They’d gotten emergency custody of Damian thanks to Oliver filing that before they even got into the car. Dick had him, he was allowed to take Damian from New Jersey to California.
The fact they were driving across the whole damn country to get away from Bruce said something.
Okay, well, not driving. They were going to pick up a Zeta in Missouri, stopping by the Wests’ house to take a break before that. Not for long, only long enough to get some extra rest and food. Then they would be dropped off at the Queen residence in Star City, and then…
When did his hands start shaking? He didn’t know, his fingers were numb. He could feel the heat on his face, he had bruised cheekbones and a blackened right eye. Bruce had—he’d been punched, in the face. He wasn’t the only one. Tim had a broken collarbone and sprained right wrist that they were going to have to treat. Steph’s fingers were broken because of the Batmobile door, of all things. He had slammed it on her fingers. Cass had bruising on her forearms, Damian had some bruising as well (thank everything, Dick didn’t think he would be able to handle it if Damian, who was just a kid, had more severe injuries. He was already losing his shit about Duke, Steph, and Tim being hurt). Duke’s left cheekbone and eye were bruised.
Reaching over, Wally touched his arm. Glancing over, Dick swallowed. Finally, Wally broke the silence. It was quiet. His voice seemed thunderous, anyways. “Do you need me to switch out?”
“I’ll be fine. We’re only a couple hours away.” Turning back to the road, Dick swallowed weakly. His throat ached from crying. His face stung, his nose burned, and he didn’t know if that was from more tears building up or if he was just hurting or if the pain was from the wounds themselves starting to heal. He didn’t know. In front of them, Jason and Roy switched places in the lane, close enough that the world was dark and far enough that the fog was just beginning to brush over them. “I never thought he would do this.” He rasped. “I just—there were warning signs. But I didn’t—I didn’t think about it—”
Wally reached out to touch his knee, gently. “Of course you didn’t. You didn’t want to, and that’s okay. You’re leaving.”
Rolling his eyes, Dick replied, “Yeah, after everyone else has bruises. This is my fault.”
“It is not. You left when you were seventeen. Going back to an abusive household happens. How many times did Tim go back to the Drakes? How many times did my mom and I go back to Rudy?” Dick swallowed again, fighting off the pain. It felt like he had tried swallowing a rock or something. He hated it. “You used to work with the Bludhaven PD, Dick. How many times did you have to work with victims who left their abusers only to go back again? It’s a statistical likelihood that someone’s going to go back. What’s important is that this time, we keep you away. Alright?”
“Right.” Dick replied.
He glanced back at his siblings again in the back. Damian shifted in his sleep, arms wrapped around a giant Squishmallow that Roy had brought and promptly shoved into his arms. When Damian had claimed that it was childish and he didn’t want it, Roy replied that Lian had demanded that Damian take it and she would be upset if he didn’t, so Damian had of course taken it. He was sitting up and clutching it in his arms, head tipped forward to smush into the top of the Squishmallow. The van had two rows with the seats still up, leaving Tim, Steph, and Duke in the back. Steph had her legs kicked up into Duke’s lap, sitting in the middle as she leaned on Tim’s left shoulder because that collarbone wasn’t broken while Tim leaned against the window. Steph’s head was tipped back. There were strands of blond hair in her mouth, sticking to her lips as she snored with all the dignity of a dog splayed on its back. As for Duke, he was leaning to the other side, elbow propped in the drink holders with his knuckles pressed into his palm. His other hand clutched his phone, loosely looped over Steph’s ankles to keep her feet in his lap.
Cass had managed to prop herself up leaning towards Damian, head resting on the back of the seat so they were close enough to touch if he wanted. As Dick watched her, eyes off the road just for a moment, Cass’ dark eyes flicked open and met his gaze. She cracked a weak smile. He returned it, then shakily sighed as he turned back to the road ahead. Just a couple more hours. Then we’ll be on the opposite side of the country from Bruce. He won’t be able to touch us.
The Justice League had listened to them. They took things seriously. Even before that, before everything came out, Oliver had already been suspicious of Bruce. Of all people, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, it was Jason who got the whole case started. He’d mentioned coming back to Gotham, the moment where he had, in the midst of Pit-madness, threatened Bruce by demanding either he kill the Joker or kill Jason. He’d shown Roy the scar still on his neck, even had the cowl footage to prove it. That, combined with Tim’s own occasional mentions of training under Bruce, had been enough for Oliver and Dinah to have suspicions. Significant suspicions. So now, the League had a case opened against Bruce because child abuse was serious business, and they could actually prevent Batman from showing up to League missions.
It wasn’t just Tim who had mentioned things. Damian, Cass, and Steph hadn’t, because they weren’t on teams the way the others were. But Dick, Jason, and Tim? They had all mentioned times that Bruce had hit them or hit someone else, laughed about things that made their friends wince or stare at them in horror, or shown up with injuries. Tim especially. Dick remembered how…sharp Bruce had been after Jason died. As horrible as he felt about it, he hadn’t done anything for Tim—hadn’t saved him, hadn’t gone back, none of it. Duke had mentioned things to We Are Robin, worrying about Tim because they were friends and Steph as well, even Damian and Jason and Dick despite not being as close to them.
He couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t think it was because of the bloody nose.
Fingers digging into the wheel, Dick took a shaky breath. “I need to pull over.” He choked out. Instantly, Wally was texting Roy and Jason, Cass was sitting up, and Dick was turning on the turn signal even though he really didn’t have to as he drove off the highway. He was out of the car, leaving it beeping loudly at the open door. His heart was pounding, breath catching in his throat. Fingers digging into the ridiculous button-up he had borrowed from Wally—it was dark blue and covered in neon pineapples of all things—he staggered away from the car. He could see Jason and Roy pulling over, stopping some thirty or forty feet away from him. As he gasped, digging his fingers into his shirt, he could just barely see the dark, dewy grass between the blurriness in his eyes. His head was spinning. Wally’s hand landed on his shoulder.
Dropping to his knees at the edge of the road, Dick clamped a hand over his mouth as he tried not to throw up. “Dickface—” Jason’s voice hit his ears. Wally’s hand settled on his shoulder.
Spitting into the grass, Dick shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He couldn’t breathe. The air was thick with the smell of fog, gasoline, and nighttime. He was crying a lot harder now. Fuck, he hoped the kids in the car weren’t awake, that Cass was keeping them from looking if they were. They didn’t need to see him losing his mind on the side of the road. Or losing his lunch. Especially Duke. He was a sympathetic vomiter.
Just don’t swallow, it’ll actually make you throw up. He told himself, falling back on old lessons. Panting, he squeezed his eyes shut a little bit tighter. Wally was speaking to him, softly. Still, he couldn’t quite make out the words. His boyfriend’s voice was just a steady hum. He could hear Roy and Jason talking as well, albeit distantly.
Unfortunately, he did end up throwing up on the side of the road.
Right after that, Wally gently pulled him back to the car and then settled him in the passenger’s seat before slipping to the other side. The others were either asleep or pretending to be. Dick didn’t know which one he preferred (that was a lie. His siblings needed their rest—even Jason, but Dick wasn’t about to pretend like he or Jason would be getting any sleep until they were in Star City and away from Bruce). Settling into the driver’s seat, Wally let out a slow breath, reached across the console, and grabbed his hand. “It’s going to be fine, D.” He said, tone confident in the way it was when he spoke to victims. He wasn’t wrong.
Nodding, Dick turned to look out the window, fingers intertwined with Wally’s. He felt the gentle trace of Wally’s thumb over the back of his knuckles. His breath hitched again, but he just propped his chin up on his palm and stared out at the trees. Wally didn’t say anything.
Dick didn’t say anything, either.
He didn’t know what he could.
When they arrived at the Wests’ house (technically the West-Allens’ house), Dick’s eyes were still sore from crying, and the others were unusually quiet.
Cassie, Kon, and Bart were there, crowding Tim as he and Steph were dragged into the kitchen for hot chocolate. Duke was fetched barely a second later, Bart running back out to grab his arm. Iris and Barry spoke with Wally, while Damian crouched down to play with the West-Allens’ foster dog, Calla. The Lab rolled over, tongue lolling from her mouth.
I need to call someone to take care of Haley while I’m gone. Maybe Helena? She doesn’t mind dogs too much, he thought wearily. Hopefully Haley won’t be too angry at me for not coming home tonight.
He jolted as a hand settled on his shoulder. When he turned, he met Cass’ gaze. She frowned, black eyes scanning his expression. “Sit.” She ordered. “Rest.”
“Right. Right.” He let himself be guided over to the couch. Behind him, the front door opened, and Roy walked in with Jason. Both had their motorcycle helmets under their arms. Drawing a hand down his face, Jason sighed as he went to drop down beside Dick on the couch. He turned to look at him, eyes tinged teal. They’d been like that all day, Pit madness lingering just below the surface. Honestly, Dick wouldn’t blame him. He wanted to snap, too.
(He’d known something was wrong as soon as he and Jason finished their patrol.
When they had gotten into the Cave, the air was thick with tension. He could have cut it with a Batarang. Frowning, Dick had glanced at Jason, and then they were hurrying to the main room. He didn’t know what exactly had happened. He hadn’t heard it over the comms. Still, he felt the sinking feeling in his stomach.
They found Bruce practically towering over Tim, who was gripping his right shoulder and gasping. His same arm was tight to his body, too, so that had been hurt. Damian had braced himself in front of Duke and Steph. Duke was holding a hand to his left eye, shoulders shaking, while Steph was doubled over and clutching her left hand. In front of them all was Cass, scowling at Bruce and hands raised in a fighting position. She was hurt, too, reddening bruises forming on her exposed wrists. Steph’s left hand was purple—Dick thought it was her glove for a second, but then he saw the crooked fingers and knew something was wrong.
Bruce took another step towards Tim. It was Jason who moved first, though, storming up and roaring, “HEY!”
He landed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce whipped around to punch him. Jason dodged back, going to grab Bruce’s wrist. Tim wasn’t moving, curled in on himself and eyes wide. Snarling, Jason got a little bit of space. Bruce lashed out, face twisted in anger.
Dick’s heart dropped. He couldn’t move. His fingers were cold, he couldn’t feel his hands, his heart was racing and he needed to move, he had to move, but he couldn’t. His feet were locked to the floor. Fingers wrapping around Jason’s right hand—he knew that shoulder had been dislocated, they had been on comms and it was part of why Dick and Jason had ended their patrol in the first place because Dick had only just reduced it—Bruce yanked. Hard.
Jason screamed, and Dick started moving, and—)
A cold cloth was pressed to the top of his nose, very gently. He flinched back, blinking as Wally leaned in to continue working. His eyes scanned Dick’s face, he was quietly working with what he had and the injury on Dick’s face. It wasn’t awful, his nose had been bleeding and there was a cut in the bridge, but it would be fine. He was better than the others. Definitely better than Steph, who was—
Dick glanced around. Ah. That made sense. Wally was taking care of him because the others were being taken care of, too. Currently, Iris was crouched in front of Cass, with Steph next to her and her fingers already splinted. Barry was sitting with Tim, who was lying on his back on the couch as Barry felt over his bruised ribs. Roy was helping Damian. Duke had an ice pack taped to his cheek and was pacing right behind the couch. From the look of things, Jason had patched himself up and was now distracting the dog.
Gently, Wally cupped his face and turned Dick so he was looking at him. “Keep looking at me.”
“How’s Tim?” Dick asked.
“Uncle B’s just checking to make sure he doesn’t have any broken ribs. Looks like they’re just bruised. We’ve got everyone else patched up, too.” Wally’s green eyes scanned his face again. Then, a bit more firmly, he said, “You know you’re going to have to sleep tonight.”
“I can’t.” Dick whispered. It was true. If he’d been able to sleep, he would have on the way to Central City once Wally had taken over driving. “I can’t sleep. Not until they’re safe.”
“They are safe.” Wally said. “Everyone is fine, and you and I are going to sleep in my old room tonight. And we’re going to get up in the morning, head to Star City, and everything will be fine.”
Dick tried to get himself to believe that.
In the morning, Jason came back with Roy from the store with a newspaper that he slapped onto the table.
“Funny,” he started with venom in his voice, “that they think me wearing the same suit twice is abuse, but this isn’t a problem at all.” As he waited for Dick or anyone else to pick up the paper, Jason settled back on his heels with a shaky breath and narrowed eyes. He crossed his arms as best he could with the sling on his right arm. This morning, his eyes were a vibrant green, almost like Damian’s. Still, he didn’t pull his gaze from the paper he was scowling at.
Pausing mid-bite through his pancakes, Wally swiped the paper before any of them had the chance to do so. His eyes flicked across the printed text. Leaning over, Dick peered at it. There was a futile attempt to keep him from looking at it, but Wally quickly gave up as Dick managed to read it.
“Wayne Heirs Spotted Leaving House.” He didn’t read it aloud, but still. Chest tightening, he scanned over the words. The paparazzi didn’t seem to have spotted them leaving the house late at night, when they were hurrying away from the manor, but they had somehow gotten sight of Jason’s cycle. Swallowing, Dick glanced over at Wally. His boyfriend’s eyes narrowed.
Folding up the newspaper, Wally huffed. “It doesn’t matter. They can say whatever they want, what matters is getting you all to Star City.”
“Reporters are going to write about this, anyways. He’s right.” Iris agreed.
Settling down by Roy, taking the food pushed to him, Jason forced out, “Then we need to control the narrative.” He looked at Mary. “You’ve done this sort of thing before. Sorry to be blunt. But have you—do you have any tips?”
“Not quite. Rudy and I weren’t extremely famous, not the way that you all are.” Sighing, Mary glanced at Wally and Barry before asking, “Though perhaps our League friends might know something I don’t?”
“Usually the advice is to let the paparazzi claim whatever they want and ignore the rumors. It usually only makes them worse.” Barry noted. “But with Bruce, we have to think about lawyers. I would say wait until we can get into contact with Oliver and Dinah. They’d know better than I would, I’m just CSI.”
“We’ll wait.” Tim said, the first time he’d spoken all morning. Honestly, he’d barely eaten. Dick had a feeling it was those bruised ribs of his. Without raising his head, Tim stabbed a section of his pancake and said, “Bruce is good at PR most of the time. When he’s angry, that training is usually ignored. He might take it out on the rogues.”
His fingers curled around his fork. Reaching over, Steph touched his left wrist, the one that didn’t have a splint, saying, “We’ll warn Ivy and Harley. We have their numbers, and Harper can handle Crime Alley in the meantime. They trust Bluebird. Plus, Cullen can help.”
“He might kill someone.” Tim replied in a dark tone.
“I’ll have Oliver and Dinah keep Bruce under control.” Barry decided. Straightening up, he added, “I’ll call them right now.”
“You’re not going back.” Cass added, pointedly looking at Tim.
Staring at the table, Tim replied in a strangled tone, “I stopped him before.”
“That’s not your job.”
“If you go back, Timothy,” Damian began, arms crossed as he sat on Dick’s other side, “he might kill you.”
Everyone went quiet.
Mouth drawn into a thin line, Tim replied, “Maybe. But if he’s focused on me, then—”
“Then nothing. We’re not risking your life for a hypothetical.” Duke snapped. “He broke Steph’s hand, your collarbone, and almost broke Jason’s shoulder. He could have broken your ribs. If he had, he could have punctured your lung. Maybe both of them. Maybe something else. I’ve already lost enough family members, I don’t want to lose another one.” There was a pause, a shaky breath. “Not for him.”
“We’ll all head to Star City.” Dick glanced at the other Titans. Kon, Cassie, and Bart had, thankfully, been keeping quiet, but he could see the upset on their faces. “All of us. We’ll take a Zeta tube from Star Labs and continue as planned. No one goes back to Gotham, and no one is going back to Bruce. If we do end up going back to Gotham, we’re going with another League member—Flash, Canary, Green Arrow, Aquaman, Superman, or Wonder Woman. Someone he wouldn’t act like this around.”
His breath shook as he let it out. No one protested, thankfully. We’ll get through this. We just need to get to Star City. If we get to Star, then we can keep him away from us. We’ll be fine. Wally settled a hand on his leg. Turning to him, Dick managed a tight smile. He turned back to the folded-up newspaper. In a quick move, Wally made the newspaper disappear. Dick didn’t even care how. He sighed, turning back to his food.
He didn’t really want to eat. He needed to eat, though. He had to make sure he had the strength to fight Bruce if worst came to worst and he decided to show up.
They arrived in Star City to some friends.
As soon as his eyes fell on Barbara, Dick felt his shoulders slump in relief. Standing behind her, grinning as she held onto Barbara’s wheelchair (obviously with permission), was Artemis. His Artemis, not Jason’s—though he guessed technically her codename was Tigress now. As she wheeled Barbara towards them all—because Barbara was working with three different hologram screens and didn’t have the hands to guide her wheels herself. Artemis’ sister, Jade, was holding Lian and patting her back, waiting for Roy with Jason’s Artemis and Bizarro. Cissie straightened up from her chair, eyes wide as she sprinted up to Tim and grabbed onto his arms. Her eyes flicked across his face, down his neck, and then she yanked him into a hug.
Dick turned to Wally, tilting his head, “Did you call them?”
“While you were asleep.” Dick kept looking at him. “It may have been with drugs in your tea, but it’s still sleep, Dick.”
“Keep telling yourself. Artemis!” Both the Amazon and Tigress turned to him. “Uh—my Artemis?”
“Your Artemis?” She laughed, letting go of Barbara’s wheelchair after the woman put her screens away. Sending a crooked grin Wally’s way, Artemis stepped over to Dick and hugged him. Quietly, she murmured in his ear, “If you need me to kick his ass, I will.”
“Only if he comes here.” Dick replied weakly. “As long as he stays away, he can have Gotham.”
She squeezed him just a bit tighter, then turned towards Wally. They had some sort of silent conversation between them. Then, she looked back at Dick, smiling. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but the anger there wasn’t directed at him. “Let’s go get you all set up, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He managed. “Sounds good.”