Chapter Text
Peter let out a guttural scream as he was promptly deposited on the sidewalk, reaching out manically for the closing portal. The last of it disappeared as he leapt for it, hands clutching air as he slammed against the cement. “No!” He demanded, springing up and pacing like a caged animal, nostrils flaring as he raged at the air. “No fuck you Strange, take me BACK”. His fist slams into a garbage can, crumpling the metal inwards. “I PROMISED her!” Peter bellowed, paying no mind to his aching body and the blood dripping from his knuckles. “I told her I’d find her again. I-I can’t, I have to… TAKE ME BACK, you lying piece of shit.”
He swung up then, webs clinging to the edge of the roof as he pulled himself up, his mind taking stock of the situation desperately, still working through a cloud of emotion and utter rage. He wasn’t even in New York anymore, instead it looked like its dysfunctional cousin of a state, Jersey. He was in New Fucking Jersey. Goddamnit Strange.
A gunshot popped off and the sound set him in motion again. Peter started swinging, gripping onto the asinine hope that M.J. might be back in Queens waiting for him. Clinging to the hope that Dr strange hadn’t sent him flying through the multiverse and ripped him from the arms of the only people he’d loved, because he’d made a mistake, because he’d let Cap’s fucking ideological bullshit get to him. He hadn’t even bothered taking the safety off. Well FUCK that, the next time he saw Mysterio he was gonna make damn sure his brains were blown out on the sidewalk.
Still he couldn’t let go of the thought that just maybe he’d be back at home in a few hours, raking his fingers through Michelle’s curls as she melted into his side, occasionally making a biting remark about the crap shows Peter liked to watch while he grinned softly and shot back a comment about her music taste.
His mouth was set into a grim expression as the blood on his suit settled into a thick plaster, and he knew that if he ever took his suit off it would feel like ripping his skin from his bones because his healing factor didn’t discriminate, and would heal into the red Spider-Man suit. He knew that he wouldn’t find MJ or their apartment tucked away on fifth street back in New York. Even if he did it wouldn’t actually be his Michelle and he wouldn’t be her Peter. Hell, golden girls might not even be a thing here.
He was confident about all of this as his arms got into the familiar rhythm of catch and release and allowed him to think. But he also knew that if he stopped he might not get back up again. So he swung, ignoring the way his limbs were screaming to rest, and his heart was trying to call to him through the panic, thumping out a dangerously fast message.
The night drags on as Peter traverses the labyrinth of a city and he’s starting to feel like he’ll never get out of it, it seems to go on forever. He’s learned its name at least, Gotham, he thinks MJ would have made fun of it, something about it sounding like an emo rock band. That thought lasts for all of two seconds before he snaps out of it and swings off another building, landing on a rooftop that overlooks a swirling ocean. There was a bridge connecting to another city that had Peter letting out a sigh of relief, this city at the very least didn’t have the same oppressive smog hanging over it. Peter swung down to get a closer look and his padded feet landed soundlessly on the pavement.
He could make out a “Welcome to Bludhaven!” sign if he squinted, it was swinging from the creaking metal precariously. His breathing was ragged and he was sure his face was flushed underneath the mask, hair slick with sweat and plastered to his forehead. As he looked around, the momentary break from swinging caused his hands to cramp up, twitching desperately. He cursed in despair, the resounding “Fuck!” echoing loudly. He almost missed the sound of a body landing behind him but his spidey sense tugged at his chin and his head swiveled to meet them before their feet fully touched the ground.
The man was tall and muscular, in an agile sort of way, the kind of strength gymnasts and acrobats possess. He had black hair streaked with grey and the upper half of his face was covered by a dark blue domino mask. He was wearing a predominantly black suit with a blue bird design along his chest whose wings spread into lines that ran down his arms.
Peter pauses at that, he remembered learning about bluebirds in school, and couldn’t help but wonder what the hell the guy was thinking. They were hardly intimidating. But well, he supposed the symbol was more eagle-like than floof like.
Focus Parker! His spidey sense screeched, promptly cutting off the rabbit hole he was going down. Peter continued observing carefully, ready to swing away.
The man had what looked like katanas strapped to his sides and despite the fact that he was clearly dangerous, his spidey sense didn’t sound the alarm bells, maintaining only a steady warning hum. Huh, that was weird.
Despite that, Peter settled into a defensive stance, gearing up for yet another fight. (After all, his spidey sense had been wrong before.) He took a breath and summoned the anger that was growing so familiar. “What do you want?” He snapped, digging his nails into his palms to keep himself alert, barely keeping the exhaustion at bay. He’d been awake for at least 19 hours and his body was on the verge of collapse, still desperately trying to stitch his skin together.
The man just raised his hands. “I’m not looking for a fight.” His voice was gentle and steady. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”
Peters face screwed up into a scowl behind the mask before snapping “I’m fine, now back off.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You’ve got a few people real worried, swinging around like that…” “I’m FINE.” Peter snapped again, hands clenching into fists. “Just leave me be.”
The older man sighed, “Okay. Just promise me one thing?” “What?!” “Take care of yourself kid.” The spider almost yelled at him before he heard the nickname, the soft candor hitting him with the force of a 20,000 pound truck. (And he should know, he’d taken a two wheeler to the chest in November.) Peter took a few steps back, unsteady, dizzy ones as he was flooded with memories of Tony. It only took a few seconds before his body took advantage of the disorientation and started shutting down. He grimaced as started seeing spots in his vision before promptly crumpling to the floor.
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Nightwing stared in surprise for only a moment before regaining his bearings and hauling him onto his shoulder, wincing a little, the kid weighed far more than he would have thought. But that was what he was really, a kid. Late teens, early twenties he guessed, no older than Damian. Nightwing paused, the idea of his baby brother looking like this, this tattered, bleeding mess of a boy, made him haul the spider closer, taking on a slightly more protective stance as his eyes darted around the bridge.
Oracle came in over the comms “Alright Nightwing, target apprehended, the police are on their way.” “Wait.” Nightwing replied a little roughly. “Cancel the escort, Im taking him back to the cave” “Are you sure?” Oracle replied, sounding concerned over the crackly line. “Yeah, I’m sure. There’s just..something about this kid. I can’t put my finger on it.” He glances over at the lump on his shoulder and noted the now cracked lenses of his suit. “Alright” Oracle sighed, “Just hurry back before B gets there. I’ll keep him distracted for a bit but I can’t guarantee more than an hour.” Nightwing smiles a bit at that. “You’re the best. Thank you.” “Anytime.”
After a few awkward minutes spent figuring out how to strap the kid onto his back so he wouldn’t fall off the bike they were on their way. Nightwing made sure to take hidden roads and sharp corners, eventually finding his way to Bristol, and then to the outskirts of Crest Hill. The path was familiar, the winding lanes opening up to houses and then manors that were increasingly further apart, as if the rich couldn’t handle their neighbors being in their eyesight.
Eventually they arrived at Wayne Manor, and the gates opened upon detecting one of their own. The older man clicked a button on the absurdly complex (thank you Tim!) control panel of his bike and part of the path lowered into the ground, the fountain swinging around to reveal the cave. He drove down slowly and parked, once he was inside the mechanical whir of the entrance setting back in place started.
He unstrapped the spider from his back and picked him up again, the kids head resting in the crook of his shoulder. He carried him to the infirmary wing and set him down on a clean cot, calling out softly to Alfred who was there in an instant.
The man leveled him with a steady stare, raising an eyebrow. Nightwing sighed “I know, I just couldn’t leave him there. Who knows what the cops would have done with the kid?” His pseudo grandfather nodded, eyes poring over the boy.
Alfred knew there was more to it, it’s not like Nightwing brought every struggling kid home, no matter how much he wanted to. “Remind you of someone, did he?” Nightwing just nodded, knowing he’d been found out. Even though he’d initially thought of Damian, beyond the physical similarities, the boys anger was so familiar, so much like Jason at that age, it would have killed him to leave him behind.
Alfred moved to remove the mask and Nightwing grimaced. “Should we?”
Alfred understood his dilemma, their civilian identity was precious to them, and it would feel like a major violation of privacy to force the boy to give it up. But they had to. Alfred sighed softly “It’s the only way to ensure we treat all of his wounds sufficiently, we can’t risk it my boy.” “Ok, let me then.” Nightwing muttered softly, before reaching out and starting to take the mask off himself.
He peeled it off carefully, revealing the boys honey brown skin and the dark almost black curls clinging to his forehead. He pored over the kid’s high cheekbones and the fresh scar tracing the well defined contour of his jaw, his long straight nose and the familiar arch of his brows. Richard couldn’t take his eyes off him. He just looked..so much like him.
Even Alfred looked surprised, and spoke up in a tentative voice. “Master Richard.. is there any chance that..”. “Yes” Dick replied roughly. “Yes there is.” His mind immediately wandered to the flings he’d had in high school, categorizing the possibilities. He landed on two, girls who’d moved away or changed schools that he’d lost contact with. Girls who could have hidden a pregnancy from him.
Who could’ve hidden his child from him for the last 20 years. “Make sure he’s alright and then run the DNA test.” Dick muttered, pulling his domino mask off and stumbling out of the infirmary.
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Bruce sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly as he was updated on the situation, on the boy that reminisced his son.
He’d actually stopped in his tracks when he saw him, it was like looking at a photograph, a snapshot of Richard at that age. Freshly Nightwing and telling him stories of grandeur, of the Teen Titans and how they’d change the world. And they had, his son had been a wonderful leader, and had later returned and claimed his own city to protect.
He’d made him so proud. And he was still making him proud with the kind of father he was to Mar’i and Jake, the role model he was to his younger siblings and the citizens of Bludhaven and the undeniable source of love, support and care he was to everyone around him. He was better than Bruce could ever hope to be and Bruce was glad for it.
Still, even though he knew this kid wasn’t his Baby Bird, he couldn’t help but feel like he was. Bruce reached out tentatively, running a hand through the boys curls, so much like his own son’s. The kid’s expression didn’t change, lips set in a tight grimace, even in his sleep. He sighed softly and pulled away. Logically he knew there was only two (likely) possibilities, either the kid in front of him was a clone, or his eldest had knocked up a girl in high school. Kids having kids, it’d happened before, but he’d never thought it could happen to one of his own. Then again, they’d proven him wrong before.
Even though he knew a clone was still a very real possibility, something inside him said that wasn’t it.Bruce had learned to listen to that voice a long time ago.
They were still waiting on the DNA test and Alfred had given him the upmost medical care. All they could do now was wait until he woke up or the results came back.
So after a bit of pacing Bruce went back up to the manor, tracing the familiar path to Dick’s room. Or well, his old room he supposed, it was all the same considering how often the kid came over. Right now, during the winter holidays, with Mar’i off with her mom it was easier for both Dick and Jake to stay at the manor, where they’d be surrounded by family. Besides, it helped Bruce’s peace of mind to have as many of his kids as possible under his roof.
He knocked on the door softly and walked in. “Hey son” he greeted gently, cautiously observing his hunched form and the bags under his eyes as he tapped away furiously at the computer. The screen cast Dick in a ghostly blue glow. He barely acknowledged him, only nodding briefly.
Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly. “So..how are you holding up?” Dick looked up at that almost eerily, his eyes were bloodshot and there were wisps of hair falling in his face. “How do you think?” He replied pointedly. Bruce raised his hands complacently. “Alright, fair enough, I could have phrased that better. I’m just worried about you.” Dick sighed “Yeah I know Dad.”
Bruce prodded gently, “You wanna talk about it?”Dick paused and then nodded, looking up at him. “I-it’s just I’m freaking out alright? I have a kid I didn’t know about! And it’s like, he’s grown up, he has to be TWENTY at least, and I didn’t get to be a part of that!” Bruce winced and placed a hand in his shoulder as Dick rambled.
“I mean who knows what kind of life he’s led, probably not a good one based on the way I found him. And to make matters worse, I can’t find ANYTHING on him. The women I suspected might be his mother don’t have any known children, hospital records or birth certificates that could prove he’s theirs. It’s like he popped out of thin air!”
Dick looks up at Bruce and narrows his eyes. “And no, before you say anything I don’t think he’s a clone. I can’t explain it, I just know he’s my kid.” Bruce replied in a gentle voice. “You don’t have to prove anything, I have the same feeling. But for now all we can do is wait for the test results to get back. So get to bed, we can deal with this in the morning.” Dick sighed heavily, glancing back at the computer one more time before nodding and allowing himself to be led to bed.
It hadn’t taken much but Bruce knew it wouldn’t, Dick is less stubborn than he looks. He tends to listen to reason. Who knows who he’d inherited that from. Maybe Kal. Probably Kal. Bruce admitted to himself, tucking his son into bed and pressing a kiss to his forehead.