Chapter Text
Bruce’s death was wrecking.
It was like the family stopped breathing.
The JL barely held together to tell Nightwing, Dick barely held together to tell the family. Damian did not understand, he made many questions, demanded answers, answers that Dick couldn’t give because he was just as lost. Jason’s eyes were never so green, he looked sick, like he would throw up if he dared to open his mouth, hands closed in trembling fists, he didn’t say a word when he left the cave stumbling.
The cave had never been so quiet, so empty. It was like a void grew in the walls, the shadows stretched, threatening to swallow him whole. Tim…looked confused, not like Damian, no, his eyebrows furrowed as if a piece of a puzzle was missing. He looked like he wanted to say something, to ask, but he didn’t, and Dick was almost glad for it.
He didn’t realize that Tim didn’t leave the cave.
The days that followed were a blur. Dick felt numb, out of his body. He needed Bruce to tell him what to do, how to deal with this, but he couldn’t, because he was dead. Bruce. Dead. The words spun in his head for what felt like ages, his skin felt cold, limbs always shaking. It was like watching himself from outside of his body. And Damian? The boy was probably the reason he didn’t crash. He was still an older brother, he was still Dick Grayson, his brothers needed him, and Gotham needed Batman.
The funeral wasn’t big. They told the press Bruce Wayne was missing - just like one day, Jason Todd went missing - and the real one? Where a rest of a suit laid in an expensive coffin? Dick didn’t have the stomach. Damian asked to go, he just shook his head and buried himself in his bed. He didn’t move for… actually, he doesn’t know. Tim appeared with food and pleaded for him to take a bath and move. Since it’s impossible to escape from Timothy, Dick did it. He couldn’t help but realize that Tim didn’t look half as bad as him. Tired, drained, but… he wasn’t rotting in a bed
Maybe he was just used to carrying off grieving adults, it was like how he got in the family in the first place, first with Bruce, now with him. He wished it would be different, that he weren’t the one shutting down, but he just managed to be so glad for having Tim there, helping with Damian - none of them had energy to bicker anymore - helping with Alfred, helping him. He was sure he managed to get Jason in line too. Tim was Tim, he had a thing for holding this family together.
Being Batman was definitely the worst experience of his life.
That suit wasn’t his, that name wasn’t his. He couldn’t stand seeing himself wearing the suit. It took a long, long time until he actually started to answer when people called him Batman. It felt wrong. Everything. He wasn’t Batman, he wasn’t as smart as Bruce or as good. He wasn’t Bruce. He missed him, in every second of his life, in each breath, each step. He wished his father were back, to be held in his hug again, to hide inside his cape, to be a fourteen-year-old watching a movie with him instead of patrolling because he got sick, to laugh at his first attempts at parenting, to steal his shirts and scare him off with circus tricks. He even missed all the times he got mad at him. He just wanted him back.
That’s why he can’t understand why he reacted the way he did when Tim said Bruce could be alive.
Maybe was fear. Fear of having hope, fear of believing just to fall back into the dark spot he dug himself into. Or maybe it was just concern. Tim was in denial, he couldn’t search for a dead man forever, it would kill him, and Dick wouldn’t lose his family again.
Suddenly the cave was crashing him.
“No.” He barely heard his own voice
“Dick, I can find him. He’s still out there, he’s just lost, I can’t leave him. We need to help-” His ears buzzed.
“You’re crazy.” He breaths out. Tim looked tired, so tired, thinner, eyes widen as he speaks with so much hope. The one that faded as the words registered. His look was…painful to stare at. Dick looks away.
“What?” Timothy hoped he heard wrong. Why was Dick looking at him like that?
“He’s dead. There’s no one to find. This family needs you here, not looking for a dead man.” Dick didn’t plan to sound so… flat, so emotionless. Tingles spread over his hands, he feels cold, nauseos, its like being out of his body.
“This family needs him, Dick.”
“He’s dead.”
“He’s not! I can show you everything I found.”
“TIMOTHY, STOP.” Both of his brothers flinched. “Are you hearing yourself? I know it’s hard, for all of us, but you can’t live in your illusion. Bruce is not out there. He’s not coming back. He is gone.”
Dick felt exhausted, tears stuck in his throat, his hands shakes violently. He dont recognize his own voice. “You’re wrong. I’m not watching you drown in this. I’m…I’m giving Robin to Damian.”
Why did he say that? He was supposed to have a conversation with Tim, to explain that Damian needed to cling to something, that he never got the chance of being Robin and how they both knew Robin gives you magic. Now? It sounded like a punishment. For what? For grief?
Damian’s eyes widened. “Grayson.” God, Dick forgot he was standing there. His tone was serious, trying to reach him, asking him to stop. What do you think you’re doing? He could read it on his face.
“It’s not up for discussion.” He just needs this night to end. He just needs everything to stop. He can’t breath when he turns back to the monitor. He can’t breath when Tim just stands there, frozen, with that… look on his face. He can’t breath when he finally leaves. He can’t breath when Damian walks towards the stairs.
“He dont deserve this,” Damian says before disappearing toward the manor. It’s quiet, firm, bitter.
Dick breaks.
He can’t describe how it feels to see Bruce again. The man looks older - older than only a year - tired, maybe sick. Dick doesn’t care. He’s back.
He cries until his throat hurts when Bruce wraps him in a hug, his body shakes. Bruce whispers some soft words he can’t register, the tone is enough, his voice is enough. Jason also lets himself break, just as Damian - even when he tried to hide the tears. That’s when Dick and Bruce do the exact same move.
They look around. Tim isn’t there.
He was. A minute ago, he was standing in a corner looking smaller than ever, exhausted, biting his nails.
He can see a flicker of worry and disappointment flash through Bruce’s tired face. Guilt hits Dick like a tidal wave. A lot happened and Dick is sure he doesn’t know about the half of it. How could he? Last time he actually talked with Tim was a year ago, when he pushed his brother away, when he took more than he initially realized from him.
The few times they exchanged words, everything he said sounded less and less like himself.
“You’re not supposed to be a sidekick, Tim. Not mine. We can work together, but not like that.” The suit felt wrong on his skin.
“That wasn’t a one-sided decision.”
“Damian needed Robin.” His mouth taste like metal.
“And I didn’t?”
Dick didn’t answered.
“What do you expect me to do without it?” It was genuine. Dick knows how Tim fought for that mantle, to be accepted, to be good enough, to carry the weight of a crashing Batman. It was the last thing Bruce gave him.
“You’ll figure it out.” But at that moment, he just needed air.
“Dick?” Bruce’s voice dragged him back, a hand falling on his shoulder. “Are you okay, honey?”
He let out a breath and nodded, giving him a small smile. “Tim is out on a mission. I’m sorry.”
It was a lie. His brothers knew, but none of them said a thing. Instead, they just played the part. Dick wished he hadn’t felt Damian’s stare.
“Morning, Alfie” Dick walked in the kitchen still half-sleep, everyone was still asleep, Duke were out on patrol last night, Jason probably already sneaked out, Damian will probably check on Bruce first before even think about eating.
“Good morning, Master Grayson.” There’s someone sat on the table.
The sleeping beauty blinks before actually look at it. Actually, him.
Oh are you serious?
“Oh, now you decided to show up?” A weird feeling spread over his chest. Anger, maybe?
“Im on my way out.” Tim mutters already getting on his feet.
Alfred stops him with both hands over his shoulders. “Breakfast first, Master Timothy”
“Do you have any idea of how worried Bruce is?” His tone is harsh but somenthing eased his muscles with such a raw emotion that he felt a lump on his throat. Relive. Tim is here, at home, in one piece, after months.
“When he get well enough to call me Im sure he will make it clear.” Well, now its anger.
“Call you? You cant be serious, you didnt even talked to him. You were there! I had to lie on his face and say you were out in some damn mission cause you didn't have the decency to stay.”
“He was busy”
“He was back.”
“As I said he would.”
Dick stopped. The guilt would never get ligther. “You cant took it on him if you’re mad at me.”
Tim made a face as Dick had just said the stupidest thing in the world.
Alfred placed a bag with a lot - really, a lot of food in it at the same time Damian’s voice came from a close room. “Its Tim back?” The amount of hope in the strained words made his heart clench, he send a glare to Tim but the third robin was already leaving, rushed and impatient steps.
Damian appeared supporting some of Bruce’s weight, Dick was quick to help him with that.
“How’s your brother?” Bruce didnt searched in the room as Damian did, a defeated acceptance on his voice as he sat down on his usual spot - during the inital months he was out Timothy started to own that spot, now its a bittersweet memory for a ton of reasons.
Dick took a breath. He dont know. The realization hits harder then he expected. Tim was there a second ago for the first time in months, and Dick didnt even asked.
“Alive.” Its the only thing he’s sure. A shilver run down his spine as he hear his own voice, its flat, bitter, since when he talks about Tim with this tone?
Bruce’s gaze hardened and he dont try to face him. “Looking like he will keep himself this way?” Damian asks pouring a mug of coffee before place in front of his father.
He dont know. He didnt looked at Tim, he was too relieved to finally see him…and too busy arguing. The tension between them were getting worse everytime they bumped into eachother, right now he knows he should have greeted Tim as he does with Jason, a joke, a smile and a hug. But its like seeing his face press a ton of pounds against his chest, his mood is instantly gone, and they argue, over and over again.
“Ask him.” He spits out. “Dick.” The scolding comes from Bruce, its firm but his eyes are just asking him for some time, for a quiet morning.
His father never looked this tired before and he knows a part of it its becuse he’s worried with Tim. He wants to get mad, to say Tim is being selfish, maybe he does think like that, but he also knows its his fault. He pushed his brother away, he’s keeping him away, and honestly? If it means seeing Bruce actually rest again he can leave the manor while Tim is around, they dont need to talk or even look at eachother.
God, when did they turned out like?