Chapter Text
"Though my soul may set in darkness,
it will rise in perfect light.
I have loved the stars too fondly,
to be fearful of the night."
- Sarah Williams
It had been a long day.
Dick was supposed to start work at ten a.m., but got called in nearly three hours early after an overnight shooting put two of his precinct’s officers in the hospital.
Feeling guilty, like he should’ve been there to stop it even though Nightwing can’t be everywhere at once, he rushed into work at quarter after seven to deal with some paperwork and witnesses. Since he had only dragged himself back to his apartment after a long night of vigilante snooping at three a.m., it meant he’d only gotten about two and a half hours sleep.
Then, an hour before he was supposed to leave, they got a call about a major car accident on the other side of the city. Four cars were totalled, and all four drivers were found dead on site, with two passengers - both children - in critical condition, and unlikely to make it.
No bad day would ever compare to the pain and agony he felt the day his parents died, or even the day Bruce had taken Robin away and kicked him out of the house, but dammit if days like this didn’t come close sometimes.
He didn’t get out of work until almost midnight, and since he was running on a couple hours of broken sleep and six cups of coffee, he was absolutely exhausted. He knew exactly what he was getting into when he set up shop in Bludhaven. That didn’t mean he couldn’t complain a little now and then.
Dick sighed as he trudged up the steps to his run-down little studio apartment. Barbara had pursed her lips when she first saw it, and decided to try to liven it up a bit with some colourful blankets and assorted books - Dick didn’t read much, but Barbara insisted it made the place look more inviting and lived in. Plus, he might have a guest one day who likes to read and then he’d really appreciate having some decent material for them. Dick didn’t know anyone like that in his life - except maybe Alfred - but he doubted the man would be visiting him in the only city worse than Gotham anytime soon. Not while Dick still wasn’t speaking to Bruce.
(Or was it Bruce who wasn’t speaking to him? He wasn’t sure it made any difference).
Clark had nodded disapprovingly when he saw the place for the first time, offering for the five hundredth time for Dick to stay with him and Lois or even Mrs. Kent on the farm. After Dick turned him down for the five hundredth time, Clark sighed, and moved on to a mini lecture about being careful and calling him if he needed help patrolling or around the house.
Or if you just need to talk, went unspoken, but Dick heard it anyways.
Whatever. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of his apartment. It was his. Finally, something that was just his. And that meant a lot to him after having Robin taken away from him, and feeling like nothing belonged to him.
He was just turning the corner around the stairs, dreaming about leftover pizza and shitty reality shows when he stopped dead in his tracks. Curled up in front of his apartment door, dressed in all black with even darker hair sticking up, was Jason Todd. Aka Bruce’s new Robin, the one he actually adopted.
Dick hadn’t actually met the kid yet; he mostly only knew what he looked like from the few shots the paparazzi had gotten. In the first few, the kid looked tired and scared, clinging to Bruce tightly to hide himself from prying eyes and camera flashes. After the adoption had officially been processed, though, he’d loosened up a bit. There were pictures of him laughing, of him making faces at the camera. There was one of him sitting in Bruce’s lap, arms carefully wrapped around the man’s neck as he laid fast asleep at a gala that went far too late. Dick didn’t know how to feel about that one.
There was also one of him flipping off the camera, when someone tried to snap a shot of him at a clothing store. In the picture, Bruce could be seen trying desperately to obscure the gesture from the photographer’s view. Dick actually laughed a bit when he saw that one. He almost wanted to like the kid for that picture alone.
Dick approached carefully. The kid didn’t look injured, but he appeared to be in a deep sleep. He got about six feet away before he stepped on a strewn potato chip because apparently no one in this goddamn apartment building could clean up after themselves. The action made a light crunching noise and Jason shot up, his eyes wide.
So perhaps the kid wasn’t in as deep a sleep as Dick presumed.
Dick could just imagine all the horrible things Bruce had said about him after taking Jason in. How Dick was a disappointment, a failure, how Bruce was so glad to have a real hero by his side.
A real son.
The worst part of it wasn’t Bruce adopting Jason only three months after he started fostering him, when he never as so much dared to speak the word ‘adopt’ in the nine years Dick spent with him.
No, the worst part was the asshole didn’t even have the decency to call him himself, or ask Alfred to do so. Dick heard all about Bruce’s Wayne new adopted son from a controversial newspaper article that Barbara had sent him, knowing Dick would stumble across it at some point anyways, by none other than Vicky Vale. She’d written most of the previous articles too and oh-so-conveniently linked to them at the bottom of the adoption piece. Honestly, while he normally disliked the woman, at least her far-fetched theories and wild word choices relating to Bruce kept his temper somewhat under control while he read about how Bruce Wayne adopted the poor, orphaned street kid.
Well, he didn’t look much like a street kid today, Dick thought as he eyed the boy up and down as he slowly stood up. He still looked pale, and underweight, no doubt still suffering from the effects of malnourishment. But his eyes had a bright glow about them, his dark hair was healthy and tamed, and his clothes were unstained, unripped and unwrinkled, no doubt Alfred’s doing. They looked new, too, so Alfred and Bruce hadn’t just thrown Dick’s old outfits at him like hand-me-downs, which was just as well. The kid was taller at twelve than he’d been at nine, the age at which he'd first shown up at Wayne Manor, but probably weighed less, which was saying something because Dick was a pretty thin kid himself.
Upon a slightly closer inspection, though, Dick noticed that the boy’s shoulders were hunched, and his face was marked by anxiety, as if the kid was embarrassed to be here. Just when Dick had decided he had better figure out something to say, the younger boy spoke up.
“Um hi,” he said, nervousness not at all hidden through his voice.
“Hi…” Dick replied softly, head swerving back and forth to see if Bruce was waited in the shadows. After the day he’d had today, he was not dealing with that man’s shit.
“Bruce isn’t with me… if you were wondering.” Jason said, clearly sensing his source of anxiety.
Dick let his shoulder relax a bit at that. “Oh, alright….”
“I’m Jason?” The kid sounded confused, like he didn’t know his own name. “I’m sorry for just showing up… I wanted to meet you,” Jason said, his voice turning from nervousness to excitement. “Bruce and Alfred talk about you all the time – “
“They do?” Dick asked. That was certainly a surprise. Unless Jason meant they talked about how ungrateful and disappointing he was.
“Yeah, um… they miss you.” Jason offered. Well, that wasn’t what Dick was expecting, but –
“Well, they can tell me that themselves.” Dick stiffened. He cursed under his breath. If Bruce put this kid up to this, some sort of ‘bonding’ activity while the kid convinced him to go crawling back with his tail between his legs…. “Why are you here?” He asked instead.
“Like I said… I just wanted to meet you. Bruce doesn’t even know I’m here. He’s on patrol. I’m banned until next week, sprained wrist.” Jason said, lifting up his left arm just a tad to reveal a colourful barrage of bruises and a stark white bandage wrapped around his wrist.
“How did you know I wouldn’t be on patrol?” Dick asked. Did Bruce have a goddamn camera on his apartment or something?
“I… well… Barbara told me.” Jason answered, nose scrunching up as he found the words.
Dick frowned. He had texted Barbara halfway through his shift that he likely wasn't going on patrol, but since when did she talk to Jason? “You hang out with Barbara?”
“Sometimes.” Jason responded. “At the library and stuff. Bruce doesn’t have, like, all the books I want.”
“You like to read?” Dick asked, remembering how Barbara said he should set up a few books in his apartment in case he had a guest who ‘liked to read.’ If Jason liked to read, it wasn’t so far-fetched Bruce would introduce him to Barbara so he’d have someone besides Alfred to talk about books with, and to help show him around the Gotham City library. He mentally groaned at the set-up, but it was at least bearable coming from someone like Barb and not… Bruce.
“Yes!” Jason said, voice finally shaken with something other than anxiety. “I try to read a book a week. Last one I read was Paradise Lost, but my favourite is Pride and Prejudice. My mom introduced me to that one before she…” Jason clammed up. “Yeah, I just like reading, I guess.” His voice went back to quiet and reserved. “Even… even when I was on the streets, I always had a book with me… something to look forward to, I guess.”
Dick’s heart was reaching out for the kid, pushing Dick to give him a hug or something. Really, he should. He was mad at Bruce, maybe even Alfred a bit, but the kid hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just in the wrong place, wrong time (or 'right place, right time?'), when... well, actually Dick didn’t know the story of how Bruce and Jason met (Vicky Vale hadn’t gotten her hands on that tale quite yet, and God knows Barbara knew, but was keeping it from him to try and force him to talk to Bruce). Regardless, he figured that was a story for another time. But however, it happened, Bruce already seemed to love Jason more than he’d ever loved Dick.
“Did you…” Dick considered his words. “Did you want to come in?” He found himself asking.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Jason said softly, teetering back and forth on his heels.
Dick sighed, digging his key out from his pocket and stepping forward to unlock his door, ushering Jason in after him.
“I hope you like pineapple on your pizza,” Dick said, “that’s all I have to eat.”
“I’m not picky.” Jason said, very quickly and very quietly. Dick grimaced, understanding immediately why that was.
“Bruce doesn’t know you’re here, but Alfred does, right?” Dick asked. He wasn’t quite sure where that concern arose, but there was something in his stomach eating at him – telling him to make sure. Dick watched the boy carefully as he stuck four slices of pizza in the microwave. Jason had since plopped himself down across Dick’s shabby maroon couch he’d got at a garage sale for thirty dollars. The kid didn’t voice a single complaint about the couch being unkempt, lumpy or a health hazard, all concerns Barbara and Clark had both raised.
Jason mumbled something to himself.
“What was that?” Dick called.
“No.” Jason repeated, tucking his head into his chest.
Dick sent a look of exasperation out to no one in particular. “Text him. Right now,” Dick scolded, taking a seat next to the boy. Though he currently possessed little love affection for Bruce, he didn’t want to see the man panicked, tearing apart all of Gotham and half of Bludhaven to find the boy. Nor did Dick particularly want to get accused of kidnapping, should it come to that.
(And it very well could. Once, Clark had flown Dick over to Metropolis to check out new arcade that had just opened up, and Dick forget to text Bruce he had plans with Clark after school. Bruce had freaked out and Dick didn't realize until after he'd been playing Pac-Man for the better part of an hour that he had thirty-one missed calls and forty-eight unread messages from Bruce.
Dick didn’t like to think about moments like that too much. They proved Bruce had cared about him, at least a little bit, at one point in his life).
Jason mumbled something again but adhered to the request and sent off a text to both Bruce and Alfred. A response came in seconds later from Bruce, Dick could almost make it out from his position beside Jason.
“He says Alfred will come get me right now and –”
“No,” Dick interrupted, automatically tilting his head to glance out the window. The sky was pitch black, with a scattering of a few dozen stars acting as natural shine. Due to the light pollution in Bludhaven, they saw less and less stars at night every year. Sometimes Dick wondered about the farmland that existed before Bludhaven was built. Could those farmers, those men and women, see stars every night, filling up the sky so it was more yellow than black?
Dick shook his thoughts off. “It’s a rough drive from Gotham to this part of Bludhaven this late at night. Tell him Alfred can come get you in the morning.” Jason sent a look of confusion Dick’s way – as if to say I can stay?? – but quickly replaced that with a smile and sent off another text.
“He says Alfred will be here at nine then,” Jason said, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Dick sighed. It’s a good thing he already wasn’t planning on going out tonight otherwise he’d be totally exhausted when Alfred came by, and probably get a lecture on ‘taking care of oneself’, which he would never be in the mood for.
Jason turned on the TV; some Tom Hanks movie filled the screen. The boy didn’t turn his nose up in disgust at the state of Dick’s old television set that only got six channels and periodically cut out entire pieces of dialogue.
“It doesn’t bother you?” Dick asked. Jason squinted at him like he’d just grown an extra eye.
“What?” Jason asked, curiosity mingling in his facial expressions.
“The TV?” Dick asked, gesturing towards the offending object in front of them. “We can barely hear or see what’s happening. I’m not even one hundred percent sure if this is Forrest Gump or Saving Private Ryan.”
Jason just shrugged. “Out on the streets, we didn’t have TVs.”
A ringing sound filled the room, and saved Dick from trying to respond to that. He took the pizzas, hot to the touch (since the microwave was the only thing that worked at full-strength in this apartment) and plated two up for Jason and two for him. Jason gratefully gobbled it up, and didn’t complain even a little bit when Dick changed the channel to a rerun of The Bachelorette. Even Barbara wouldn’t put up with him watching that.
“Hey,” Dick whispered an hour later as he noticed Jason drifting off to sleep. He was now was laying in starfish position on the couch, stomach up, eyes drooping with exhaustion.
“Hmm?” Jason managed to get out.
“Give me your phone.” Jason looked confused, but turned it over.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“Putting my number in your phone.” Dick said, trying to come up with a funny nickname for himself. “That way you can text me if you want to come over, or you just want to talk?”
Jason beamed at him. “Okay,” he said, yawning. He reached for his phone when Dick was done with it, putting it in his pocket as he pressed in his head into the cool couch.
Dick threw a blanket over the boy’s small body, and watched as his back and chest relaxed, and he fell fast asleep.