Chapter Text
a long, long time ago
i can still remember
how that music used to make me smile
_____________
He’s young when he first takes the oath. His cheeks are still round with baby-fat, mouth crowded with baby teeth. If he feels his tongue around his mouth, he can feel a loose molar in the back. He’s not at full height yet, but he’s not expecting to grow much taller - his parents were both acrobats, frames small and lithe. He expects he’ll be the same. In most factors, he is still a child, a long way away from being a man.
Yet, he’s a child when he takes the oath. He stands next to Bruce (who is so much bigger, so much taller, it takes everything in him to not look at him in awe). The candle casts a warm yellow glow on their faces. They stand together in the cave beneath the manor, hands clasped in one another’s. Bruce is donned in costume, face solemn through the mask.
“-swear that you will fight against crime and corruption,” Bruce, no, Batman, tells him. He squeezes his hand, looking him in the eye. “And never swerve from the path of justice.”
He looks at Batman, wide-eyed and as serious as a child can be. “I swear it!”
The hero stares at him, face indiscernible through the mask. There’s a moment of silence. Then, his lips twitch upwards in a grin. The man claps a hand against his back, drawing him closer for a hug. “I am glad to have you by my side, Robin. Welcome to the team.”
That night Dick Grayson becomes Robin, and it’s the happiest moment of his life.
Robin dons a suit of red, yellow, green. He soars through the streets of Gotham, grappling from rooftop to rooftop. He flies just like a real bird, and it’s exhilarating .
He becomes Batman’s partner in crime. The papers call them “the Dynamic Duo”. It’s fun, really. He gets to patrol the streets of Gotham, fighting off criminals, and best of all, he gets to hang out with Bruce. He likes putting a smile on citizens' faces — on Bruce’s face. If there’s one thing Robin’s got, it’s charm.
And though he may have bad days where he comes home with scraped knees, cut cheeks, and at worst, a twisted ankle, it’s worth it. Robin means he gets to help people, gets to help Bruce. He wouldn’t change it for anything.
_____________
Dick’s older now. Puberty has not been kind. He hasn’t quite grown into his body yet, limbs too long and awkward, and he’s trying to get used to this new lanky body. Fortunately, it still bends and flips and twirls the way he wants it to. Unfortunately, his teenage years also grant him with acne and voice cracks and mood swings. But his teenage years also present him with a new opportunity: the Teen Titans.
Robin may have been the first sidekick, but he’s most certainly not the last. Some of the other heroes have gathered their own sidekicks - Aqualad, Speedy, Kid Flash, Wonder Girl. But the thing about sidekicks is that they stay to the side, always in their mentor’s shadows.
And maybe it’s a bout of teenage rebelliousness that starts all of this, but in spite of their mentors, they form their own group: the Teen Titans. If being Robin was fun with Batman, it’s even more fun with the team. They’re loud and rowdy like all teenagers are, but stronger and smarter than their normal classmates. And it doesn’t matter if they have powers or not — Roy and himself pull their own weight just the same. They’re the first real friends he’s made in a long time.
So of course Batman has to be against his first group of real friends.
It’s not like you have time to make friends in school when you’re more focused on catching the criminal of the night. Instead of school dances, he fought villains like the Riddler. While all of his classmates had study sessions, he poured over case files in the Batcave. The Teen Titans get what it’s like to walk the line between teen and hero. They’re the ones he gets to celebrate victories with, birthdays, slumber parties, break-ups and make-ups. It’s the closest thing he has to normalcy in his life. And now, Bruce just wants to take it all away.
Bruce isn’t the only one against their team either. The other mentors agree. Too reckless, they say, too immature.
They’re just mad they don’t have their sidekicks around to split the workload.
The Teen Titans are far from useless. He loves his team — they help people. Why can’t their mentors see that? Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. This team is family, and he wouldn’t trade them for the world.
He’s spending the weekend at the Manor for once — Alfred insisted. So, of course the weekend has been spent skating around Bruce, trying to avoid him at every turn. And maybe it’s those damn teenage hormones of his, but he just can’t keep himself from picking a fight with the man. Better to avoid him than to start something.
But as much as he tries to avoid his mentor, Bruce still finds a way. They lock eyes in the hallway, and Dick’s already darting away towards his bedroom. The next couple of minutes are a blur after Bruce opens his mouth, and Dick’s already got a retort on the back of his tongue. They squabble back and forth as Dick tries to escape the argument, climbing up the staircase. Bruce follows, and the discussion only gets more and more heated from there.
“-reckless and immature!” Bruce is saying, following behind him on the staircase. “You’re too young for this, Dick. Someone could get hurt-”
“But I’m not too young to be your sidekick?” Dick bites back, whipping around. The two of them stand frozen on the staircase, watched by the eyes of the paintings of Bruce’s ancestors. They glare down at him in shame, centuries old ghosts berating him for his behavior.
“People get hurt — that’s how this works. Don’t you think I know that?!” Dick asks. He’s been a hero for years now; he’s seen how dangerous this life can be. There have been broken bones, scraped knees, bloody noses. He knows what to expect, and honestly, the terrors of Gotham have been far more brutal than what he’s experienced with the Teen Titans.
“You still have so much to learn-”
“And there’s only so much you can teach me.” He turns his back, heading back towards his bedroom. Experience is the best teacher, and that’s exactly what Dick’s getting with the team. “I’m growing up, Bruce, and one day, I won’t need you anymore.”
_____________
and i knew if i had my chance
that i could make those people dance
and maybe they’d be happy for a while
_____________
He gets shot.
He should’ve known it was going to happen one of these days. Heroes are powerful, but you should never underestimate the power of a bullet. Especially if you’re not a meta-human.
Bullets are cowards’ weapons, yet Dick gets struck by one nonetheless. And of course, it's the Joker that fires the gun.
The gun goes off, the line slips through his fingers, and he's sent hurtling toward the ground.
Now, he's stuck in bed, bandages wrapped around the wound.
"I'm not a child, " he snaps from where he's confined to the bed. "And I'm not dead either." Robin may be off duty for a while until his shoulder heals, but it doesn't mean he's dead. Robin will always bounce back.
"You almost did die tonight, Dick," Bruce says, suit still on but the cowl is off. It's like he's holding Batman above Dick's head, dangling the Robin suit just out of reach. "And had you, the Joker would have not been responsible. I would. "
Dick bites the inside of his cheek, but it doesn't stop another nasty retort slipping from his tongue in a fit of rage.
(-he ignores the little pool of guilt sitting in his stomach. Ignores the image of Bruce's face as he fell, the screams -...Bruce doesn't have the right to make him feel this way. )
"-in what I do, there's no place for a child," Bruce is saying, and that snaps Dick out of his guilt-ridden thoughts.
"A child?!"
He ignores Alfred's protests at his side. He is most certainly not a child. He's nineteen, old enough to make his own decisions. Where was that worry when he was ten, parading around the streets of Gotham in brightly colored tights? He's had nearly a decade to make this point, but he chooses now? Now, when he's an adult, when Bruce has no say over what he can and cannot do.
"...You are a man, now." Bruce's face is grim, and Dick forces himself to avoid his gaze. "Man enough to accept my decision."
Dick stews in silence. This is not Batman's decision to make, not Bruce's. This is his. Robin never belonged to Batman, to Bruce. Robin is his and his alone, and Bruce can't take that away. He's proven plenty of times that Robin doesn't need Batman. And of all times, Bruce chooses now to realize he doesn't need a Robin.
(-but he does, doesn't he? He needs someone to remind him what it's all for, why they fight the bad guys. Remind him he stands for truth, love, and justice. Remind him that he cannot be judge, jury, and executioner. He needs someone to keep him in check, and that's who Robin is.)
"Fine," he says finally. He's not giving in completely - he's tired and on too many pain meds to continue a fight, to have this progress into a screaming match. So Robin will stay dead for now, but it won't keep Dick off the streets, fighting for what he knows is right.
"But you can't keep me from pursuing my own destiny."
_____________
but february made me shiver
with every paper i'd deliver
bad news on the doorstep
i couldn't take one more step
_____________
Maybe it's the acrobat in him, but he doesn't stay still for very long. Nineteen is a year of change. He loses Robin, but it doesn't stop him from feeling restless, wanting to be back on the streets, saving the day. He moves out of Wayne Manor — he doesn't need Bruce watching his every move, but at Bruce's request, he tries university.
He lasts a semester.
Just another disappointment to add to his list. But at least he still has the Teen Titans. The roster's changed over the years. People come and go, but they never leave your mind, your heart. They'll always be family (more of a family than Bruce, anyways).
Out of all the disappointments nineteen gives him, it does grant him with something positive: at nineteen, he takes to the skies once again, only with a new moniker.
He calls himself Nightwing.
Dick turns to Superman (and maybe it was a subconscious choice to piss Bruce off, but Clark's a wise man. He's always been there when Dick needs him). He tells him everything.
For a time there, he'd briefly entertained the idea of giving up being a hero. However, it runs in his blood, just like being an acrobat. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to shake the urge to want to help others, to be a good person. That's just who he is.
Clark tells him a story, one from his home planet of Krypton. A man is cast out of his family, and instead of being fueled by hate, he fights for truth, justice, and love. It's so similar to the morals of Batman, of Robin: helping people in need.
The Kryptonian legend was known as Nightwing, so Dick will be too.
And it's great.
After a few months of Nightwing, he's finally out of Bruce's shadow. He fights alongside his team as his own person — no ties to the Bat, to the Waynes. He flies free. Being Nightwing is so similar to the magic of Robin. This is his. Bruce can't take this away.
But nearly two years later, Bruce still has a way of controlling his life. He reads in the paper about a new Robin, and it's like being cast out of the family all over again.
And he's angry. Not at the new Robin, because how could they know? They're just a kid. But he's furious with Bruce, ripping away his title, his name , just to gift it to another child, a newer model. He's been replaced, and he cannot deny the pain that comes with the realization.
So for the first time in nearly eighteen months, he visits Bruce; he's a new man, a new hero, a new Dick Grayson. Bruce needs to know.
"Don't be too hard on him, Master Dick," Alfred warns, and God, he's missed Alfred. He wishes they were able to meet again under different conditions. "He's only human."
It's hard to digest at first, the fact that Batman is merely a man. But that doesn't make up for all the pain he's caused. Being human means learning to face the consequences of your own actions, and tonight, Bruce will.
"Hello, Nightwing."
"Hi Bruce."
He's dressed in the Batman suit, cowl and all. His back is turned to Dick, gaze focused on the computer screens before him. So much time has passed, but it's almost like nothing's changed at all.
"I haven't heard from you in eighteen months," Bruce states.
Dick takes off the mask around his eyes. He came here to be civil, and though it might not end that way, the least he can do is try. "You and I left a lot of things unsaid…and I think you owe me an explanation or two, Bruce."
As much as he hates to admit it, Bruce is still family. He's still the man who raised him, the man who came to parent-teacher conferences and school plays. He'll give in a little today, but that means Bruce has too as well.
"What makes you think I owe you anything?"
Ouch. Still, Dick had promised himself he'd be civil. He exhales, catching Bruce up on all he's done since he's been gone. He deserves to know that, at least, even if he hadn't bothered to say goodbye when he left the manor.
"It was quite a kick for me to learn about the new Robin in the newspapers…" Dick mentions, voice trailing off. He gives a sad laugh. "The man who couldn't handle the responsibility of having a nineteen-year-old partner suddenly decides it's alright to take on a new sidekick!...I think I have the right to know why."
Bruce turns around. Pauses. "... That's not an easy question to answer."
"Well, why don't you take off the damn mask and give it a try?!"
He's laying out all his cards for the man to see, and Bruce still doesn't want to open up. Dick's tired of playing around — he wants his family, wants his dad back. He doesn't want to keep dancing around their problems, avoiding each other like strangers.
They stare at each other in silence. It takes a while before Bruce pulls down the cowl, just for him to spew some bullshit about how he taught Dick all he could.
Dick already knows that. "So you figured the best thing to do was to drive me out of your life, right?!" He can't stop the rage from bubbling up and spewing out.
He runs a hand through his hair, eyes blown wide in mania. "That's exactly what you do to anyone who gets too close to you, Bruce! Always hurt them before they get a chance to hurt you!" He can't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. It's like he's fifteen again, arguing with Bruce over the Teen Titans.
"It didn't matter to you that I didn't have any life other than the one we shared?" Maybe that's why college never worked out. There had never been anything he wanted to be besides a hero. As a kid, he always thought he'd grow up as Robin, stuck at Bruce's side. Even meeting his friends, the Teen Titans, was a result of being Robin, of being with Bruce. "You really are some piece of work, aren't you?...Why the new kid?"
Bruce doesn't answer any of his questions, but he does tell him about the new Robin. He tells him about Jason, the wild street kid. Tells him about the potential he has. Tells him how Jason reminds him of himself.
(-and isn't that something? Once upon a time, Dick reminded Bruce of himself too)
The best lies are half-truths, so Dick can't help but call Bruce out on his bullshit.
And Bruce admits it. Admits that Batman needs a Robin. Admits that he can't do this alone. Admits he misses Dick.
There's an apology on the tip of his tongue when Bruce asks him to leave. If there's one thing he's learned that Batman's taught him, it's that he knows when to take a tactical retreat. So he leaves.
Later that night, he meets Jason. The kid's a ball of energy, dressed in red, yellow, green. But those are no longer Dick's colors. And Robin is no longer Dick's.
"What is it?" Jason eyes the box with concern. He's so young, but Dick supposes he was even younger when he started.
"Something that belongs to you." There's a sad smile on his face as Jason pulls the costume out of the box. "I've no need for it any longer. You'll grow into it in a few years."
Maybe Dick wasn't the perfect Robin. He hopes Jason does a better job than him. His days of being Robin are over — it's Jason's turn to uphold the mantle. He can only hope it'll work out.
He gives the kid his number (because God knows Jason will need a safe place to escape to when Bruce grows to be too much). Then, they're off to fight crime together. Jason's not bad, but he's still got a lot to learn. But it's okay — he's got time.
Dick smiles. Change happens. That's just a part of growing up.
_____________
"What are you doing up?"
He hears Jason's footsteps before he sees him. The boy's dressed in pajamas, the pants pooling around his ankles. He rubs an eye, looking over at Dick. The kid shrugs. "Couldn't sleep."
"That's fair."
Jason was spending the night at Dick's apartment. He had some fight with Bruce (probably not as serious as the ones Dick used to start) and had called him. He hadn't said too much over the phone, but Dick had offered to come pick him up and let him stay the night.
"Are you baking?" Jason raises a brow. He glances over at the microwave clock. "It's, like, two a.m.?"
Dick glances over at the clock, reading the neon green numbers. Huh. Well, he doesn't want to necessarily admit he's been stress baking. Bruce has just had him on edge, and he didn't want to take it out on Jason, so…he started baking.
He'd done it a lot at Titan's Tower. The others had teased him about it, but they were ultimately grateful when they woke up and the kitchen was full of muffins and brownies. Wally had offhandedly mentioned he should open a bakery at one point. Dick had laughed it off. Most of what he learned had come from Alfred, anyways, and it was a nice outlet that didn't hurt anyone.
"Never a bad time to bake," Dick responds. He cracks another egg against the side of the bowl. "Wanna help? I'm making cookies. They're not as good as Alfred's, but I think they're alright."
Jason shrugs again. "I guess."
He steps into the kitchen and lets Dick boss him around. They bake together in silence, Dick only speaking when directing Jason to the next step. Soon, the cookies are in the oven, and Dick lets Jason sit on the countertop, licking leftover cookie dough off the spoon.
After a few licks, Jason sets the spoon down. Dick cocks an eyebrow. "What? Don't like it?"
"...Bruce wants to take Robin away."
Dick blinks. Oh. Oh. Before he can open his mouth, Jason's already speaking.
"I know what you're thinking — it's not permanent. It's just…the Joker broke out of Arkham a couple days ago, and Bruce doesn't want Robin out while he's out and about."
Dick pauses to think. He leans against the countertop opposite of Jason, letting the hum of the oven fill the air.
"I think," Dick says slowly, trying to choose his words carefully, "that you are a child-"
"I am not a child-"
"You are a child ," Dick repeats. "You are a child, and any good parent would be concerned about their kid being on the streets while the Joker is out. I think Bruce is worried because he cares for you a lot, Jason. He just doesn't want you to get hurt."
Because as much as Bruce can be an asshole, he cares . Even when he makes the wrong decisions, it's out of the best intentions.
So he doesn't tell Jason about how he was shot, how Bruce took Robin away for good. Jason doesn't need that right now. He needs to know that Bruce cares about him, even if he doesn't believe it.
"Okay," Jason says. It's obvious that he doesn't completely believe him, but it's honest enough for Dick to know the kid won't do anything dumb.
"Good. Now, off the counter. I think the cookies are done."
_____________
i can't remember if i cried
when i read about his widowed bride
_____________
Jason's dead.
He comes back from space, and Jason's dead, and Bruce didn't even call him, and he had to learn from someone else-
And now Jason's gone.
He should've been harder on Bruce, should've shut him down the moment he knew he had another Robin. God, he should've went back to being Robin — Bruce himself had admitted he still needed a partner. If he had…If he had, maybe Jason wouldn't be dead.
Dick stands in the Batcave, Bruce across from him, dressed in uniform. This is always how their fights start, here in this stupid cave, costume on as some sick display of power. Dick leans against his crutch, leg still out of shape from the last mission, and stares the cowl down.
"You weren't at the funeral," Bruce says. "People asked about you."
But you didn't call me, didn't tell me Jason was dead let alone was having a funeral.
"You were lucky," Bruce tells him quietly, but it's filled with such venom that Dick takes a step back. "When you didn't listen to me, your injuries weren't fatal."
It's a low blow, and it makes Dick curl in on himself. "Bruce…I'm not here to fight."
"Then don't."
"Are you blaming me ?" Dick can't stop his voice from cracking, but he refuses to show Bruce any tears. "I left, so Jason replaced me, but because I left, he died? Jason wasn't me. I was a trained acrobat. I could think quickly in perilous situations. But why did you let him become Robin before he was ready?!"
He doesn't expect the fist. It sails towards him, colliding with his cheek. His crutch slips out from underneath him, clattering to the ground as his body slams against the floor.
" Don't you dare blame me for Jason's death! " Bruce roars. It's the voice he uses for villains, not children. But then again, Dick hasn't been a child in a long time.
Bruce spits a lot of venomous words that Dick knows he doesn't mean, but the rage has clouded his mind. Dick knows that Bruce doesn't believe all of what he's saying, and it's the grief talking, but the words still hit like bullets on his skin.
"He was just like you!"
The words ring in his ears. It makes him sick. All Jason wanted to do was help people. Robin's magic, he said. Robin's what got him killed.
What Bruce says next really stings. "Why are you pretending to be concerned about Jason? You told me you resented it that I had adopted him , not you. "
And it hurts, because he did care. He loved Jason, even if he didn't show it. But being around Jason just hurt so bad sometimes — a reminder of a relationship with Bruce that he could never have. And maybe he wasn't the best to Jason, but he was his brother , not in flesh or blood, but in love.
Bruce asks for his keys and leaves the cave. Batman doesn't need a partner. He doesn't need Dick.
He slides to his knees and sobs.
_____________
He's taken a leave of absence from the Teen Titans.
At this point, he's lucid enough to know he's not right of mind. He's not going to risk his team by being out on the field like this. If something goes wrong, he's to blame. He's not going to put them at risk.
They understand. They're his team — of course they would. Some of them he's known for years. They've watched him grow from Robin to Nightwing, been there for every struggle along the way. They'd been there when he found out Jason was dead. So, they wish him the best with reminders that they're only a phone call away.
And he knows he should talk to someone, but he hasn't been able to get out of bed in lord knows how long. The days are drifting away, but he just can't find it in himself to get up. His mind keeps spiraling, and there's nothing he can do to stop it.
Maybe Bruce is right. Maybe he's the one responsible for Jason's death. He could've stopped him, could've never left for that mission in space, could've been there for him. But now Jason's gone, and it's all his fault.
His spiral of self-loathing is interrupted when someone lifts the blankets from his head. He groans, squinting at the shift in light. Through blurred vision, he can make out a figure with red-orange hair.
"What are you doing here?" Dick mumbles, already wanting to close his eyes and sleep for a hundred years.
Wally West stands before him, firey hair and all. He pulls the covers completely off, ignoring Dick's protests. "Nice to see you too, Dickhead. Your girlfriend called."
"Not my girlfriend." In a fit of grief, he'd broken it off with Koriand'r, because she of all people didn't need to see him like this. It was a piss poor decision on his part, but despite her protests, he insisted. She didn't deserve to be hurt like that, but she also doesn't deserve to see him like this. It'd only hurt her more.
"Fine. Starfire called. Your friends are worried, dude." He bats Dick's hands away when they try to reach for the covers. " No. Get up. When was the last time you've showered?"
He blinks once. Twice. The silence is enough for Wally.
"Alright, up." He all but shoves Dick out of the bed until he lands on the floor with an 'oomph'.
The former Kid Flash helps Dick to his feet before escorting him to the bathroom. "You're gonna take a shower, I'm gonna clean your sheets, and then we're gonna eat. You can hate me all you want, but someone's gotta watch out for you, man."
He shuts the door, leaving him in the bathroom. Dick stands still as he listens to the sound of Wally speeding around the apartment, tidying things up. He sighs, running a hand through his hair only to recoil when he realizes how greasy it is. He doesn't even want to look in the mirror, to see how bad he truly is.
Slowly, he peels off his clothes and gets into the shower. He's not sure how long he sits there, crouched on the tile with hot water reddening his skin, but it's long enough to make his skin prune. When he gets out, there's a clean set of clothes sitting on the sink. Huh. He must've been so out of it that he hadn't heard Wally come in. He dresses, then joins Wally in the kitchen.
"Eat." Wally sets down a plate of pasta in front of him. "I don't care if it's a lot or a little — I don't even want to think about when you last ate."
Dick listens, forcing forkfuls of pasta into his mouth. He only eats half a plate, but it's enough to satisfy Wally.
Wally all but throws the plates into the sink. "We're baking," he demands, and Dick begins to think this is getting a little ridiculous, the way he's being bossed around in his own house. Still, he listens nonetheless.
They move around the kitchen in silent synchronisation, and it reminds Dick of his time spent baking in the Titan's Tower so many years ago. It's an old dance of theirs, and he's surprised he even remembers the steps.
"Why are you here?" Dick eventually asks again, and he can't stop his voice from sounding so tired . "I mean, shouldn't you be at college?"
Wally shrugs, whisking a bowl of ingredients a bit faster than a normal human can. Dick gives him a side-eye, and the speedster slows to a normal tempo.
"I told you — your friends called," Wally responds, eyes fixed on the bowl. Dick fights the urge to say, they're your friends too. "Besides, thought you needed someone who wasn't going to give you that whole hero-trauma speech."
Dick freezes, suddenly aware of what he's doing. He looks down, realizing he's been scooping balls of cookie dough onto a sheet. It's the same recipe he made with Jason all those years ago. It makes his stomach churn, and he races for the sink before he's vomiting. Wally's hand rubs circles onto his back as he retches into the sink.
When he thinks he's done, he slides against the cabinets, head tucked into his knees. Wally sits crouched besides him. He cries silently into his knees, shoulders shaking.
"I think you need to talk to someone, " Wally says quietly after a while. "Because you know Jason wouldn't want to see you like this. He'd want you to move on. He loved you so much, Dickie."
And it hurts because Wally's right. Jason practically idolized Dick, and he can't imagine what he'd think if he saw him on the floor like this, crying over cookie dough. His Robin was strong and fearless, but Dick's a mess, a coward.
"I…I don't think I wanna be a hero anymore," Dick finally whispers after a while, and the realization rings out in the quiet air.
Being a hero meant getting his entire childhood ripped away from him. It meant breaking bones children shouldn't break, getting shot by madmen and clowns. It meant getting Jason killed. It meant losing his family . He can't lose anyone else — not when he's already lost so much.
"Then what do you want to be?"
And when phrased like that, it seems so simple. It's a question that you'd get on a homework assignment in school. What do you want to be when you grow up? It's terrifying to realize he doesn't know. The only option he's ever had is to be a hero — he doesn't know anything else.
"I don't know," he says, and the admission makes him a mixture of sick and embarrassed.
"Alright," Wally says, rising to his feet. He extends a hand out to Dick. "Baby steps, then. And baby step one is brushing your teeth."
A few minutes later, he'll find himself in the bathroom, brushing his teeth for the first time in who knows how long. He'll look in the mirror and realize he does not like what he sees. He'll realize he has to change, for Jason's sake. Brushing his teeth is just step one.
Baby steps. He can do this.
_____________
but something touched me deep inside
the day the music died