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Of course, Dick cries.
Sometimes they are silent tears prompted by a familiar taste or sound. Sometimes he blows up to a full tantrum about the unfairness of it all.
He cries, because he’s a child who’s lost his parents at the age of 8, and Bruce knows how to deal with that.
It feels awkward, maybe, especially at first, but if nothing else, Bruce can let Dick lean onto him through his quiet sobs. He’ll take the weak hits and kicks during the tantrums with the patience of someone who’s gone through the same trauma. He lets Dick exhaust himself and collapse, and he’s there to catch the boy.
He can do that.
But Dick doesn’t cry all the time. He smiles on the second day Bruce brings him home from the juvenile center. And it’s not a small, careful smile but a toothy grin, a near laugh. All because Bruce dipped his nose in the whipped cream on top of his hot chocolate. It’s good, Bruce knows that. It’s good that Dick can still smile, that the death of his parents and his experience with Gotham’s foster system have not stifled his ability to be happy.
Bruce just doesn’t understand how that is possible. Dick’s smiles confuse him... as much as they spark something warm in his heart. His heart, that twists when Dick cries and burns when Dick wakes up screaming in the middle of the night.
Nightmares. Another thing that Bruce understands all too well.
It’s day 36 after Dick moved in, and night 33 that Bruce snaps awake to the child’s screams. He gets up quickly and hurries to the room opposite his. Dick’s already awake this time – the night before Bruce almost had to shake him to get him to wake up.
”Hey,” he says softly to get Dick’s attention. The boy blinks, and sniffs, before drawing his knees to his chest. ”Another nightmare?”
It’s a stupid question, and Bruce internally cringes.
Dick nods anyway. Bruce sits down on the edge of the bed.
The silence between them is loaded but less awkward than a month ago.
”I miss...” Dick starts suddenly, half-whisper, half-breath.
”Your parents,” Bruce finishes when Dick doesn’t continue right away.
”Well. Yes,” Dick says. ”But... I miss... other things, too.”
To that, Bruce can’t relate. He lost his parents but kept everything else. Even the butler.
”Like what?” he asks.
Dick shrugs. ”All my friends. Haly. The... the audience. The trapeze.” He sighs.
”I could build you a trapeze,” Bruce says before he even fully realizes he’s formed the thought.
Dick frowns at him. ”Where?”
”Here,” Bruce replies. ”There are... spare rooms.”
Dick’s frown deepens before his face breaks into that toothy, confusing grin again that sparks Bruce’s heart. ”You’re silly. You can’t build a trapeze in a house .”
The corner of Bruce’s mouth lifts. ”Yeah. I guess,” he agrees, while also already making plans to do just that.
”I miss Zitka, too,” Dick says then. His grin has subdued into a softer expression that’s still a wider smile than what Bruce thinks he himself is even capable of.
”Zitka?” he repeats.
”My elephant.”
”Your... elephant?”
”Yeah. Mama’s mama made it.” Ah. A toy. Bruce remembers those. ”I left her on my bed. I always left her on my bed. I thought...” Dick’s voice breaks. ”I thought I was going back.”
As Dick buries his face into his knees, Bruce raises his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with it. Finally, he settles on patting Dick’s head softly, and quietly says: ”I’m sorry.”
Dick peeks up, his eyes shining. Then, wordlessly, he uncurls and crawls across the bed to fold himself against Bruce. He takes one of Bruce’s arms and snuggles under it, which is good because Bruce is still new to this whole hugging thing, and Dick is a good teacher.
They stay like that until Dick’s breathing evens out. Carefully, Bruce lowers him to his pillows and puts the covers over him.
When he exits the room, Alfred is there. The old butler looks...
Happy?
Bruce clears his throat. ”Do you know where Haly’s Circus is currently?”
Alfred plans a busy day for himself and young master Dick so that they can keep their little surprise. Bruce leaves in the morning in a suit and tie to do ’important work things’, as Dick dubs them, but instead of his ’business Mercedes’, Bruce picks his fastest car and floors the gas in order to be back before bedtime.
The circus has not performed since the fall, and is currently located on a lonely field a few hours away. It’s raining lightly when Bruce parks the car and steps out. A few heads turn his way. He knows he sticks out, and there’s no reason for anyone to remember or know who he is.
An older lady appears in front of him suddenly, as if out of thin air. ”Dick?” she asks with a thick accent. ”Dick? ’ittle Robin?”
The accent is French, Bruce guesses, and answers: ”He’s safe.”
The lady’s shoulders relax. ”Is he happy?”
”...sometimes.” The lady nods, sad. ” I’m here to see Mr. Haly. I need something from the Grayson’s trailer .”
He’s pointed to the biggest of the trailers. More people come to ask him about Dick and are genuinely relieved to hear that he is doing at least relatively okay. These people love Dick, and Dick would be happy with them more often than he’s happy with Bruce.
Bruce both does and does not wish he could send Dick back here.
”Mr. Wayne,” Haly greets him in obvious surprise. ”Wasn’t expecting you. Is Dick okay?”
His tone turns urgent towards the end, and Bruce is quick to say: ”Fine. He’s fine. He...” He looks over his shoulder to see that people are still watching him, hanging onto his every word. ”...misses you. All of you. And this place.”
”Well,” Mr. Haly says, his tone oddly gruff. ”We miss him, too. Maybe... Maybe one day. We’ll have a Flying Grayson here again.” He clears his throat. ”So, you don’t mind me asking what you are doing here, then?”
”I’m here for the elephant,” Bruce says bluntly.
”Elephant?” Haly says. ”We haven’t had elephants in over two decades, what...?”
”The toy. That Dick left on his bed.”
”Oh!” Mr. Haly exclaims while several voices behind Bruce call out: ”Zitka!”
”Of course. Yes,” Mr. Haly chuckles. ”Come with me. We haven’t... Uh. We haven’t touched anything. Yet.”
The trailer is smaller than the treehouse Bruce’s father once built for him. Everything’s covered in dust, but it’s clear that it’s been well-tended and loved. And there, on a small bed that Bruce guesses can be folded into a little table, sits a purple elephant that has miss-matched buttons for eyes.
”I could have mailed it to you,” Mr. Haly says as Bruce picks the toy up.
Bruce hadn’t even thought of that. ”It was... urgent. He has nightmares.”
”Hmm. Well, since you’re here, you could take the pictures, too.”
There aren’t many, and some are spotty in quality, but there is a picture of John and Mary on what appears to be their wedding day, as well as them holding an even younger Dick between them, all three smiling in matching costumes. ”Thank you.”
”Everything here is his if he wants it,” Mr. Haly says. ”Is there... is there any chance you could bring him by? Not now, it would... be too hard, I guess. But we do miss him.”
Bruce is already nodding. ”Of course. Yes.”
”It is good, at least, to see that you truly care about him,” Mr. Haly says with a half-smile.
Bruce squeezes the elephant. ”I... I do.”
”Obviously. You wouldn’t have driven all the way here otherwise, for a toy.”
Zitka’s mismatched eyes look up at him as Bruce turns the toy in his hands. ”It seemed important.”
”It is.”
As Bruce walks back to his car, three people ask Bruce to stay for lunch, including the old French lady. Bruce declines, blaming his long drive back. He’s given several boxes of baked goods and small tokens to take with him, he’s told to send Dick love, good wishes, and a lithe, small woman even hugs him, telling him that ’this is for Dick’.
Bruce feels quite overwhelmed as he starts his drive back to Gotham.
He’s back just as Dick and Alfred are finishing their before-bed snacks. Dick smiles at him through his last mouthful while Alfred raises his eyebrows in question. Bruce nods minutely, and it’s clear Alfred can barely contain his quiet excitement.
”Dick, I... I have something for you,” Bruce says.
Dick tilts his head. ”A present?”
”No, uh... It’s nothing new. I just thought... you’d want it.”
To make sure no harm came to the beloved toy during the drive, Bruce kept it on his lap during the entire time and then hid it in the folds of his coat. Dick’s eyes go huge as he sees it, and he almost knocks off the chair in his hurry to get up.
”Zitka!” His tone is part cheer, part gasp, part disbelief. He hugs the elephant to his chest and peppers its head with kisses. ”How?” he asks Bruce.
”I went to get it,” Bruce explains quietly, feeling almost shy. ”There’s... there are some other things, too. In the living room.”
He follows Dick as the boy sprints past him. He’s already opening a bag of buttery pastries when Bruce enters the room and inhales deeply, eyes closed. ”Lady Camilla,” he says. ”Here!” he adds when he opens his eyes and sees Bruce. ”You have to taste them!”
Bruce nibbles on the treat while Dick goes through all the little things Bruce brought with him. He wrinkles his nose at one of the boxes, explaining: ”Mama said it was bad manners to decline a gift so the Strongman always brought us a box of these for all holidays.” He pushes the box away and Bruce can admit that whatever they are, they don’t look very appealing. Dick seems much more delighted with the rest of the baked goods and trinkets and treats them all with much care.
It’s not until he sees the pictures that his smile fades.
”You were in our trailer,” he says as if now realizing where all the things Bruce brought him came from. ”You were at the circus.”
”Yes.”
Dick swallows. ”You didn’t take me.”
”I...” Logically, Bruce knows he did the right thing by leaving Dick home. Dick saw the killer’s face and heard his voice, and the killer knows this. Bruce can’t let anything happen to his... this child. ”I wanted to. I will.”
There’s just a hint of resentment in Dick’s expression, and Bruce braces himself to face a tantrum. But then Dick holds up his parents’ wedding picture and says: ”Wasn’t she pretty?”
He goes on to explain all the photos in detail, and Bruce listens, and Zitka watches them both.
That night, Bruce wakes up to the quiet sound of light steps. He shoots up, but his alarm turns to worry when Dick climbs onto the bed and wiggles his way onto his pillows, never losing hold of Zitka that he has tucked under his arm.
”Dick?” Bruce rasps out, voice heavy with sleep. ”Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”
”No,” Dick yawns. He reaches out to yank some of Bruce’s covers over himself. ”I like it here with you.” His voice is very quiet when he says it, like he’s confessing a secret and is slightly ashamed of it. ”I miss them. And you’re silly. But I like it here.”
Slowly, Bruce lowers himself back down. After a moment of hesitation, he puts his hand through Dick’s hair, as he remembers his own mother doing. ”I like that you are here.”
Dick sighs and falls asleep quickly. Bruce keeps stroking his hair until he feels sleep pull himself under, too.
Bruce may be silly, but he does find a way to build a trapeze inside the house. A whole gym, in fact. Dick looks at all the new equipment as if he’s standing at the gates of Heaven, and then bolts before Bruce can even form a thought about safety requirements.
It’s day 64. It’s an end and a beginning.
Dick still cries.
He still has nightmares.
But there are days when he doesn’t cry at all, and the nightmares also become less frequent. And when it becomes safe for Dick to dive into the world again, Bruce finds himself being guided back to it, too. He’s led gently by a child who half a year later introduces him to all his circus friends. He’s excited, and acts as if he’s never left, as he skips from person to person, goes inside trailers without invitations, and climbs into the arms and onto backs of people who were – are – his family.
Still, at the end of their visit, Dick takes Bruce’s hand, waves his friends goodbye, and tells Bruce ”Let’s go home.”
Bruce loves his child.