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He’d been falling his whole life. Falling in between trapezes as his parents tossed him back and forth, smiles on their faces. Falling between buildings as he let the ground rush a little too close before firing his grapple just for the thrill of it. Falling time after time, controlled to the point where it was really flying.
Dick Grayson loved falling, yet his stomach lurched as the corner of the roof crumpled under the weight of his landing. Panic surging up as the traffickers he was chasing disappeared from sight as he plummeted backwards. He fell, heart in his throat, as he scrambled for a grapple that wasn’t there. Something slammed into his back and his shout was cut short by the lack of air in his lungs. He twisted in as he hit something else, sending him spinning to the damp ground with a dull thunk. His head throbbed and he dully recognized the feeling of warm blood dripping down his face as the world fuzzed out to black.
It was the pitter patter of falling rain that Dick registered first as he opened his eyes. Then it was the feeling of bandages wrapped around his arm. He blinked hard and froze as he realized he wasn’t in the alley he had fallen into, and he wasn’t alone.
“Hey kid. You awake?”
Dick Grayson nodded slowly, confusion overriding panic as the black and red figure a few feet away registered as Deathstroke. He sat up and gasped at the shooting pain up his spine. Deathstroke shot forward, a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, Little Bird.”
He realised with distant worry that he didn’t really mind that nickname, his mother used to call him that.
“Deathstroke?”
“That’s me.”
Dick could hear the grin through full face mask.
“Where are we?” The ‘who are you?’ was already answered and the ‘why?’ was his next question.
“In an alley, Robin.” Dick shot him a cold look. There was a huff of a laugh and Dick knew the man was rolling his eyes. “Somewhere in the Theatre District. I’m not familiar with Gotham so I can’t tell you exactly where.”
He froze for a long moment. “Why did you bring me here? I fell in Chinatown.”
The hand on his arm released as Slade moved to lean back against the wall. “I saw you go down in Chinatown and was going to wait for the big bat to come get you but the traffickers did first. I followed for a while then grabbed you when it was clear the bat wasn’t going to.”
Dick sat for a moment, processing the fact that he was taken by traffickers and Batman hadn’t shown up at all and that he was currently sitting across from Deathstroke, who had saved him. He looked at the bandage on his arm and felt on his head to find not only his mask still in place, but butterfly bandages on his forehead as well. Deathstroke, who’d saved him and given him medical care.
“Why?”
“Because you have talent and the bat doesn’t see it. He’s let you free into the night with insufficient training and so much potential.” There was a pause. “And falling off a roof into a fire escape had to hurt.”
Understatement of the century, Dick thought. He was vaguely aware that he should be much afraid of the man in front of him, but it just wasn’t there.
“So, Little Bird.” Deathstroke stood and pulled Dick to his slightly unsteady feet. “I’ve done my part, you are conscious and not going to die.” He handed a small piece of paper to Dick. “If you ever want training, real If training, give me a call.”
Then Dick watched as he disappeared down the alley.
***
“Robin.” Batman’s voice echoed across the cave as Dick walked in from the Somerset tunnel.
No Are you okay?
No What happened?
He ignored him like he ignored the thrumming pain from his ribs and the dull ache in his shoulder. The bandage on his arm dug into him with a security that he never would never have been able to tie if he’d done it himself. His boots were quite on the rock floor even as water dripped off of his rain soaked cape.
“Robin.” It was harsher this time and Dick continued on his way to change.
“Dick!”
“What?” He asked, exhausted, defeated, and not in the mood to fight.
“You dropped contact over forty minutes ago. Why?”
Of course, interrogation before concern.
“I-” He paused. He’d been unconscious, dragged half way across Somerset by traffickers, and saved by Deathstroke. What was he supposed to say?
“You were what?” He cut into the silence sharply. “You disappeared. You left your assigned route.”
“I fell off a roof!”
The words bounced uselessly around the cave.
“You deviated from the patrol plan.”
Dick huffed a broken laugh. Deviated. Right.
“What?” Bruce, no, Batman shot back. “Nothing to say?”
“I fell off a roof and got knocked out on a fire escape then had to walk here because nobody came looking for me!” He snapped and there was a split second when his face shifted slightly. A little more Bruce than Batman.
For one, terrible, stupid second. Dick thought Bruce would come over, check on him, ask if he was okay. Anything. He didn’t.
“You should have activated the emergency beacon.”
Dick stared at him.
“You know the protocol for this Robin, you know better.”
Seriously?
Dick turned on his heel and strode out of the cave, up the stairs, and into the manor. Screw the uniform, he’d apologize later if Alfred caught him.
He peeled off the suit with slow movements. Everything hurt worse now. The adrenaline was gone. He left his cape in as a wet blob on the bathroom floor followed by his boots, gloves, mask. He threw on the warmest, softest pair of sweats and sweatshirt that he had and grabbed a lighter.
“You have talent…so much potential.”
Dick looked at the slip of paper in his hand. Ten numbers. Ten numbers and a promise.
“If you ever want training, real training. Give me a call.”
Real training meant safety. It meant not falling off roofs only to get yelled at. It meant a teacher who sat with him in alleys to make sure he was okay instead of leaving him because he didn’t even know where he was.
Ten numbers. Dick memorized them then watched as the paper burned over the lighter.
Ten numbers and a promise gone into a pile of ash.
“...because I’m sick of this!” Dick’s words bounced from stone wall to stone wall.
“You missed three calls!” Bruce shouted right back! “You vanished!”
“I WAS IN SCHOOL, BRUCE!”
Every visit ended the same, fight after fight. Dick didn’t know why he bothered coming back.
“You can’t just leave without checking in!” Bruce shouted and Dick actually laughed.
“Seriously?” If anyone disappeared without warning, it was Bruce. Who time after time ditched him on patrol for his latest fling or was gone for days and wouldn’t tell him where he was. “Do you hear yourself?”
Bruce ignored him, he always did. “You’ve been gone constantly! You’re being reckless!”
Dick laughed incredulously. Reckless? How? He hadn’t been on a patrol in weeks. He’d been going to school. Trying, for once, to manage to do what Bruce wanted.
His mentor carried on, “You’re pulling away!”
“From what!” Dick shouted, relishing in the way the words echoed in the cave. “From this place? This mission of yours?!”
“That isn’t what I said.” Bruce stopped yelling in favor of running a hand down his face. Looking furious and disappointed.
“It’s what you meant!”
His voice sharpened and Bruce looked up with ice in his eyes. “Stp twisting my words.”
“Then stop talking to me like I’m a soldier!”
There was a moment of silence before Bruce turned away, his next words detached and flat.
“You’re acting like a child.
Oh. Dick just looked at him. “I am a child, Bruce.”
There was a sudden sound on the stairs and Dick looked up to see Jason, the new kid, the replacement, in a robin uniform. Bright colors and a cape that wasn’t his to wear. And the kid had the gall to look excited when he locked eyes with him.
“Dick!” He exclaimed happily as he jumped off the stairs.
Dick ignored him and turned sharply to face Bruce once more. Bruce, who wasn’t looking at him.
“Why is he wearing my colors?”
Bruce’s face hardened slightly. “Robin isn’t yours, Dick.”
Wrong. He was wrong. Dick saw Jason wince out of the corner of his eye, and dismissed it in the flood of red in his vision. Bruce kept talking.
“Robin is Batman’s partner. Something that you’ve proved you can’t be.”
“No.” It was sharp and cold, Bruce’s head snapped to look at him at the tone. Agony tore through his chest as he lost the only thing that was truly his. “Robin was my mothers.”
Nobody said anything. Nobody moved. The cave suddenly felt enormous and Dick stared at Bruce. For a second Dick thought Bruce would fix it ‘I didn’t mean…’ ‘Dick, I’m…’ but he didn’t. He never did.
Dick turned and stopped for half a second, looking at Jason who had devastation written all over his face. Jason who was in his family's colors. His chest split open at the sight.
“Robin was my mothers. Take care of it kid.”
Then he walked up the stairs into a house that was no longer his. Everything was muted, distant. There was a thrumming in his ears and a pain in his chest. He felt like he was drowning. He pulled the ring of keys from his pocket and looked at the shiny silver key that had meant the world to him. A key of belonging. A key to a life that he didn’t have anymore.
He took it off the ring, set it on the coffee table, and walked out the door.
He shoved his helmet on, barely taking a moment to zip his riding jacket and took off, his bike revving down the gravel driveway to a place he didn’t know. To a place that wasn’t here.
Dick didn’t remember leaving Gotham. One second there had been city lights, traffic, familiar streets. Then suddenly there wasn’t. Just a long highway. Cold wind biting through his jacket and the steady vibration of the bike beneath him. He’d stopped thinking around mile fifty, stopped feeling around mile eighty, maybe hundred.
He wasn't really keeping track. He’d hit a highway and not stopped, he didn’t even know where he was going. North, South. He hadn’t bothered to look and he didn’t really care. Street signs blurred past. Town names he didn’t recognize. Exit numbers he hadn’t read as he passed.
At some point, the skyline had disappeared completely, the roads cleared.
The bike sputtered, once, twice. Dick looked down and realised the fuel light was on, he had no idea when that appeared. The engine coughed under him then died.
“Seriously?”
He coasted till the bike ran out of momentum. Of course this would happen. He kicked the bike to neutral, hopped off, and started walking.
Three miles down the road he spotted lights. Gas station and a roadside bar.
Dick stared at it for a moment then laughed. Not because it was funny, simply because he had no idea what else to do.
He paused at the gas pump, cash in hand. What was he doing? Filling his tank so he could keep driving to who knows where? He didn’t know what he wanted, he didn’t know what he was doing.
No. Dick realised. He did know what he wanted.
He wanted someone who cared. Someone who cared more than a pointless crusade.
Dick rolled his bike to a parking spot and walked into the bar, he needed a phone.
***
Bzz, bzz, bzz
Slade looked up from the chinese take out he’d grabbed on his way to the motel.
Bzz, bzz, bzz
He reached for the phone in his bag and realised it wasn’t ringing? What? His eyes shifted to the duffle bag on the bed and promptly ditched the take out to dig through it to the phone sewn into the lining. A phone he’d never had ring before yet kept paying for because he’d made a promise years ago.
He’d assumed the kid would throw away the number before he’d even get home. He’d kept the phone activated anyway. Just in case.
Bzz, bzz, bzz
He picked it up.
“Robin?”
Silence.
Slade frowned and checked the screen briefly to make sure the call had connected. It had. 845, New York area code. He put it back against his ear and waited for a moment.
“Either say something or hang up kid”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then he heard a sharp hitch of breath. Then another. Then Robin started crying.
Slade stood up and started packing his bag.
“Where are you kid?”
Slade had met Robin once, a boy injured and in agony who had still been defiant while face to face with a mercenary. He’d heard stories though. Stories of a bird who laughed with broken ribs, smiled as he knocked people unconscious, cracked jokes when he was beat down. His ability to deal with problems with a grin made him that much more terrifying to the low lifes of Gotham.
He’d never heard of Robin crying. Not once.
“Kid.” He heard a muffled ‘mm?’ on the other side and knew the kid was at least listening. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Slade paused for a second then grabbed his keys and shoved his things into his duffle bag. “I’m coming to get you, where are you?”
“Somewhere on US 9. I’m not sure. I’m at a gas station and street bar.” The kid sounded absolutely wrecked and Slade kicked his bike into gear, and hooked his phone to his helmet’s bluetooth.
“Alright, kid. I need you to do two things for me, is that alright?”
“Yeah.” There was another broken breath on the other side of the line.
“First, you’re going to get a bartender and ask exactly where you are, do that then come back. Don’t hang up the phone.” He wasn’t sure if it was a pay phone or a stranger's phone but he needed the kid to not hang up or he wouldn’t be able to pick the phone back up without pulling over.
It was a few minutes later and several miles before Robin was back. “Wappingers Falls. That’s what she said.”
“Perfect, thank you.” Slade typed it into his google maps and sighed when he saw the distance. “I’ll be there in eight hours. Second thing, go order yourself a plate of fries, go sit on the roof, and eat them.”
There was silence.
“Kid?”
“Why?” It was broken and sad and Slade was sure the kid had started crying again.
“Because I told you to and french fries are everyone’s comfort food.”
The line disconnected a moment later and Slade pushed his bike to go just a little bit faster.
***
Slade had been driving for eight hours.
He’d stopped twice, both times for gas and only at one did he grab a random selection of snacks he’d shoved in his bag before hitting the road once more. The directions had been simple and Slade was fairly sure the kid had just picked a direction and left. He had no other reason to be out of Gotham.
By the time he arrived the sky was lightening to early morning, the gold light that had the ability to make everything look alive despite the smog and perpetual clouds.
He parked next to another bike at the bar and walked straight to the back of the building. He took a half second to test the exterior ladder before climbing it without hesitation, boots pushing him up the rusted metal.
The roof was flat, but not empty. A teen, a kid really, lay on his back staring up at the sky. A take out box sat next to him, lid open with a napkin inside and the crumb remnants of fried bar food. In jeans, a t-shirt, and with tear tracks on his face, lay Robin.
“Hey kid.”
Slade stopped a few feet away. The kid looked wrecked. Not visibly injured but detached, hollow. He squatted down and poked his shoulder.
“Kid.”
Robin blinked once, then turned his head to look at Slade.
“You made good time.”
Slade huffed and sat down, criss cross at the kids' side. “You gonna tell me what happened or do I have to guess?”
Robin looked back at the sky, more blue than gold as the sun rose slowly higher.
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Slade nodded slowly, putting pieces together. He stood and put a hand out. “Alright Robin, let’s get out of here.”
“Dick.” The kid grabbed his hand and hauled himself to his feet as Slade shot him a look.
“What?”
“That’s my name. Dick. I’m not Robin, not anymore.”
Oh. Well, that made this make a little more sense. Slade put a hand on his shoulder, just as he did years ago. “Alright, Dick. Let’s get out of here.”
Dick followed him with no hesitation. Grabbing the take out box and following him down the ladder. Followed him all the way onto the back of Slade’s bike, pausing only to throw the box away.
“Is that yours?” Slade asked, eyeing the bike that sat a few feet away as Dick snatched the helmet off its seat. Black with red highlights.
“Not anymore.”
Alright then, Slade turned his bike on after making sure the kid was holding on tight. What did that bat do to him? “How do you feel about Kentucky?”
“I’ve never been.”
Slade grinned, kicked the bike into gear, and headed down the road.
The Batcave was louder than it’d ever been. Dick didn’t know the last time he’d been here much less with all of the bats.
The last of the alarms had stopped yet the slight echo from them still remained as Alfred finished tying the bandages on Tim. Bruce was updating the last of the containment protocols and Jason was arguing with Damian about radio etiquette. Even Barbara was here, head on the desk after hours of directing all of them across the city. Cass and Stephanie had already changed into sweaters and sweats.
It was familiar in a way that should have been comforting. Yet Dick felt fatigue settling into his bones. He just wanted to go home.
He was still in uniform, one escremia in his hand as he recalibrated it. There was a lag on its electric system and it kept randomly shocking him. He took off his mask and shoved it into a pocket on his belt, shoving down a yelp and another course of electricity shot up his arm as he toggled a switch.
“Everyone’s accounted for,” Bruce said, looking at the last of the files on the secondary computer set up.
That was good. This was the worst Arkham breakout in years and the first time all of the bats had had to work together. They’d called all hands on deck. Pulling him out of Bludhaven and Jason from Crime Alley.
Duke finished the last of his side of the debrief even as Stephanie proposed a movie night.
“Come on, Bruce!” She argued, “We’re never all together. Consider it team bonding!”
There was a long sigh followed by a low, “fine.”
Dick scoffed, where had that attitude been when he’d argued time after time as a kid.
“Only if it’s action!” Tim shouted as he raced up the stairs after her.
“Heck no!” Jason raced after them, the others quickly following. “We get enough action every night!”
Dick watched as kid after kid raced up the stairs in sweats from their lockers. Lockers that had no room for him. Not because it wasn’t offered but because he’d refused.
“Dick?” Bruce asked, softer than Dick would have ever heard years ago.
“What?” He walked the other way, kicking his bikestand up.
“Movie?”
Yeah right. “No thanks, I need to get back to Bludhaven. I have a prior engagement. Maybe next time.” There would be no next time.
“Alright, chum.” There was a pause as Dick put on his helmet. “I made a new suit design if you’d like to look at it? I think you’ll like it.”
Dick grinned under his helmet and took a second to look down at his blue and black suit. Half kevlar weave and nomex and half body armor. It was unlike anything any of the bats wore. More armor and lacking in a distinct bat.
“I’m good, thanks though.”
He left a moment later, revving a little too much for such an echoing cave. He followed the tunnels he knew better than anyone else, coming out at the Old Gotham exit to stop at one of his safe houses to change before hitting the road once more to Bludhaven. He’d been serious when he said he had somewhere to be.
Forty minutes later he pulled into the garage of a house in the suburbs of Bludhaven and walked in to the door to the sound of arguing.
“I told you not to touch that!” A girl's voice rang out loud followed by an exaggerated gasp a few moments later. Evidently Joey had replied before Dick rounded the corner to see his hands moving in rapid reply. Rose locked eyes with him and grinned. “Dick! I’m right and you know it! Back me up here!”
Dick grinned for the first time in days. He loved family dinners. “I don’t know what your side is Rosie.”
She screeched in faux outrage. “Don’t call me that!”
Dick laughed again as she launched off the couch, knife in hand. He ducked the blade and strode farther into the house.
“You’re late.” Slade said dryly from where he was cooking dinner on the stove.
“By five minutes.”
“Still late.” Slade’s grin was audible.
“I missed you too.”
“Yeah right kid.” Slade handed him a spoon of food from the pan. “What’s it need?”
Dick ate it and paused for a second. “Salt?” He really had no idea what it needed but Slade nodded in agreement so he assumed he was right. “Where’s Grant?”
There was the snapping of fingers and he turned to watch Joey sign, “Not here yet.”
Dick grinned, glad he wasn’t the last one to arrive. Everyone knew if you were the last one, you got less desert. He guessed it was Slade’s way to make sure everyone came when they were supposed to.
He grinned as the front door slammed open and Grant raced in, locking eyes with him and swearing as he realized Dick had beat him.
Yeah. He loved family dinners.