Work Text:
There were days when Max couldn't look Terry in the eye, or even be in the same room as he was, which proved to be a bit of a situation seeing as they shared not only classrooms, but also an important secret. One, that you don't just push at the back of your mind and pretend it doesn't exist. One, that you can't tell anyone else, no matter how much you trust them.
Trust, such a flimsy idea nowadays. She blamed Batman. Actually, no. She blamed Bruce Wayne and the day he entered her life. Terry's life. Like a huge, menacing shadow of the past, once here always here.
There were days. Days filled with words that went beyond the usual be careful and come back alive, please/it's dangerous out there. Words that were much more brutal and selfish that she would voice out loud.
I wish you didn't follow on that path.
I hope you won't turn out like Bruce Wayne.
Cold. Angry.
Alone.
She's met the man. Old, bitter. Mr. Bruce Wayne extraordinaire. He looked lost at first, not much of a charmer either. It was surprising and a little bit disappointing. He didn't look much like a man she's seen on TV or how she imagined him to be from what Terry dropped here and there in the moments of what she could only explain as indulgent fondness. It was hard to believe he was the very same larger than life persona every criminal in the city used to whisper about. Because, yes. At this point she already did know who he was, who he used to be, but...
How did Terry fit in all of this? Terry, who still maintained the happy go lucky attitude, who still had the tendency to fall asleep in classes and his angst levels didn't spike higher than the ones of an average teenager. Max felt conflicted about all of this, but facts were facts and she was good with accumulating, then working them out from the knots and little lies until only the clean truth remained.
So she did some digging and learned things, she wishes she didn't. It only added to another secret she could not tell anyone. This time Terry included.
Damn.
+++
"You seriously need to reconsider repairing the heating system down here, Bruce." Terry stepped into the cave, zipping up his school jacket before half-sprinting down the stairs and falling against the central console with a slight omph. Didn't stop him from grinning cheekily at the man. "I mean, no offence, but this is a temperature only cadaver wouldn't have anything against."
"So terribly sorry, McGinnis. Let me know when you're getting here next time and I will make sure to also prepare a warm bubble bath for you." Bruce dead-panned, eyes on the screen - the only source of light in the cave at the moment – illuminating his face. The lights, usually shining at the Batsuits and Robin's gears, were off.
To the ear of a stranger it would sound heavily off the rocker, offended even. But, Terry was way too good at spotting even the slightest changes in the other man's façade. That did include catching many little smirks that Bruce seemed to like so damn much and that were a real treat for a well trained eye. Sue him, Terry enjoyed discovering those little traits of Bruce Wayne.
"I will most certainly do," he answered and turned to the screen as well. On it was an article about the financial situation of Wayne Enterprises, one of the many written in the same non-favourable way for Bruce, or anyone involved with the company for that matter. Nothing new, or even remotely interesting for Bruce to pay such attention to. The Company always had their own fan-club, intent on throwing mud and false accusations around. It came with being filthy rich and influential Terry supposed. "Is something wrong?" He asked, not for the answer itself - that he knew he won't get - but for the non-verbal cues he got from it. The tightening around the lips and the complete stilling of the whole being that was Bruce Wayne. Something was very, very wrong. Terry glanced at the screen again. This time omitting the articles, his eyes scanned the bottom panel, hoping to find a hint there. Bruce was anything but sloppy, but one could hope.
"Who is Tim Drake?"
It took a longer moment, but he got his answer. "A ghost from the past." A pause. "Not important."
Unimportant, huh. "Doesn't seem unimportant to me," Terry countered. "How long have you been sitting here, staring at the screen?"
"A while." Bruce rubbed at his eyes, leaning back in the chair. He looked tired. Older. Terry had no illusions, the age difference between them was quite prominent and whilst he knew Bruce was still strong and pretty deadly - - Well, he wasn't immortal. He came with years of experience and emotional baggage, half of which - if not more - Terry had no idea about. It didn't exactly bother him, per se, that would be petty, but he wished he knew. All of it. Everything.
He didn't know when it started. This unhealthy need to know every corner of Bruce's mind. To be able to remember and carry it forward, for him. For himself. It was an urge so strong and radiant that it haunted him in the most unexpected ways. One step away from obsession, really.
He put his hand on Bruce's arm. "It's gotten quite cold here."
"It did," Bruce agreed. He didn't shrug Terry's touch off so the younger man considered it a success.
"I wouldn't mind some soup, barely had time to eat anything today," he said apropos nothing, moving his palm in gentle circles, feeling the still strong muscles underneath the rough cloth of Bruce's jacket. "Do we still have the leftovers from yesterday? The pumpkin one?"
"Terry," Bruce started, getting up gingerly and Terry could swear he heard a very unsettling crunch from whereabouts of the other man's knees, but he bit his lower lip and refrained from helping him up. He knew better than that by now. "I think you should go home."
"No."
Bruce stilled and raised an eyebrow at him. "No?"
Terry crossed his arms and looked him in the eye. "No." He answered. "And before you say anything else, your Batman stare is not going to work this time."
Bruce's eyebrow, if possible, spiked even higher on his forehead, creating a very good unimpressed look all-together. "No?"
"No. We are going to go upstairs. Where it's warm and believe me - you will appreciate it - eat some soup, and talk."
"Wouldn't you rather go and see Dana," Bruce said more in a statement rather than a question. The truth is that yes, perhaps normally Terry would be grateful, happy even for a day off that he could spend with his on-and-off girlfriend - it seemed like it was the only way for them these days - but the way Bruce suggested it, the way how, for the lack of better word, off he looked. It was wrong.
"You are grasping at straws, old man."
"I'm giving you a choice."
"And I made my decision. I want to go upstairs and eat soup, talk as well if possible." Definitely, he added in his head. "But your company would do as well. Plus, I wouldn't have to worry about you freezing to death. Imagine the story it would make. Wayne Enterprises' CEO dies from being too stubborn - Oh, and also cold."
Bruce stared at him intently, before turning and slowly ascending the stairs without a word. Terry considered it a victory.
+++
Bruce was expecting the bomb to drop any minute now. He knew McGinnis well enough to know that the young man - the kid, he reminded himself. Still only a kid - would pick up the subject of Tim soon enough. Terry wasn't one to simply drop something like this. He'd sniffed out something interesting - much to Bruce's dismay, he should've been more careful, less .... sentimental - and now won't let go of the trail until it gets him somewhere. It was only a matter of time and approach.
"Swell! You still have some of the pumpkin soup, I was hoping it would still be here," Terry's animated voice resounded from the kitchen walls as he fished out a pot of soup from the fridge, considering its contents. "It still looks ok," he decided after sniffing at it. "Have you eaten today?"
"You are not my nanny." Bruce couldn't help, but roll his eyes at the question. "But yes, I did. Feel free to devour the soup for your heart's content," he snorted, sitting down in one of the chairs. Watching. Ace trotted over to him, tongue lolling as he put his muzzle unceremoniously in his lap. Bruce's lips twitched into a quick smile, as he scratched the mutt behind his ears.
"Don't mind if I do," Terry hid his smile, swallowing back the hypocrisy comment wanting to get out. "Tea?" He asked, already reaching for one of the cupboards. Bruce knew this game. He wasn't going to lose.
"You should go home."
"You like Earl Gray, right? It's running low. I'll buy some more tomorrow after school." Terry continued his ministrations as if Bruce didn't say anything. As if he wasn't pushing him away. Like he always did with people around. With Dick. With Barbara. With Tim. With everyone. Bruce Wayne, deep, dark hole sucking in your happiness and leaving you miserable and in the dark. He was getting too old for this crap.
"Terry - "
"You seem pretty sure that if you say it enough times I will go," Terry interrupted him, clicking on the electric kettle and turning to face him. "Moreover, you make it sound as if you want me to go for good. It's like you are scared."
"I am not scared," Bruce said with a frown. "I'm Batman, there are few things that scare me. Even thought you clearly do think differently." Damn, kids these days.
"See, no. That's bullshit." Terry pushed away from the counter and sat up on the table, closer to Bruce - who didn't look particularly happy about someone sitting on his kitchen table. Ace opened one eye to look up at him curiously. "You were Batman. It's a thing of the past." Terry gesticulated wildly. " Now you are Bruce Wayne and Bruce Wayne is human, and humans are afraid. So what are you afraid of?"
Bruce eyed him speculatively. "You might be Batman now, but you are still young and easy to influence. You have things to learn on your own, and I am not going to be the one to tell you things that are not yours to know."
"Let me be the judge of that. Or is this what you are afraid of? That I will judge things and make decisions that go against yours? Is that it?"
"It's my past." Bruce clenched his fist, looking furious. " I have no reason to share it with you." Terry snorted and pushed himself away from the table, pacing the kitchen back and forth. Thinking, letting the information sink in and - -
- - He stopped in his track when a thought occurred to him. "Which one of them was it?"
"It doesn't concern you. Never did and never will." Bruce was growing irritated by this conversation and he could feel the headache coming. He won't be the one to admit it, but he was only human and time took its toll on him enough times. "This need to know things will eventually get you or someone close to you killed. There are things that are better left alone."
"I don't care! I want to know. I want to know why you are like this, I want to know who that Tim person is. It's unfair. Unfair of you to know this and keep this to yourself, while all I can do is stand here, in front of you and watch you do this to yourself." I could always go and ask someone else, of course.
"I am not asking you for pity."
"And I am not giving it to you. I want to know. I want to know, because it's clearly important to you and it's eating on your conscience and maybe sharing it would be easier. So I am asking you, as a family. Which one of them was it?"
Bruce Wayne wasn't prone to get shocked, there were times when he was mildly surprised, but this wasn't one of them. Words like this shouldn't get to him. Yet it did, especially coming from Terry. The kid had unhealthy habit of getting under his skin with his actions. He liked him, admittedly not always. But he liked him, worried about him. Treated him like a family. But it was a thin ice he was walking upon here. Things could change, they always did. That's why he shielded Terry from the ghosts of the past till this point. Protecting himself from losing yet another of his own.
"Red Robin."
"Did he die?"
"Worse."
"I want to know."
"Not today, but --" Bruce rubbed at his temples. "You will."
"But not today."
"Yes."
"Ok." Terry nodded. "Ok. So, do you want milk in your Earl Gray?"
"Please. Oh, and Terry. Don't go asking Barbara. I will know."
Terry chuckled under his nose, “Fine.”
- end