Chapter Text
The day he last saw his parents was the last time he ever felt happy.
It was a random spring day almost two years ago. Duke, like all of his friends on the block, was enjoying the sunny weather for as long as their parents would let them. There was the basketball court down the street, ropes replaced with chains, the rattling of the net could be heard all the way across the street where the swimming pool was. Duke had spent most of break between the two-that, and at Keshawna’s place with the rest of their friends. Her dad loved to grill and his husband loved to bake, so after a long day of burning calories, he’d get them right back from the taste of barbeque, potato salad, cornbread and banana pudding.
Duke had risen to the early summer morning and the sound of kids playing on the street. Just like every other morning, he had gotten up and made his bed, then ate breakfast before brushing his teeth. Camilo, Ruben and Andrea had all knocked on the apartment door, when he answered it, they were rushing him to hurry up so they could ride the bus into the city.
“Hold on.” He left the door open and rushed into the living room where his parents were. His mom was sitting on the couch, taking out her braids and his dad was standing behind her, helping with an orange comb. Love Island was playing on the TV when they both glanced over at him, Duke asked, “Can I go in the city with Camilo?”
She was a tall woman with round cheeks and wide, brown eyes. Very pretty in his eyes, just like how his dad was handsome, too. “Where? Is his mom going to be there?”
“To the mall, and yes Ma’am, Mrs. Molina is going.”
His mom hummed, her eyes glued to the TV, “Is she? Alright, I guess that’s fine. Call us and let us know when you get there, alright baby? C’mere.”
Duke smiled. His socked feet padded against the carpet, coming over to drop a kiss on her cheek, “Thanks mom, love you.” And then to his dad he waved, “Love you too, dad. See ya.”
His dad always complained about the shows his wife watched, but that didn’t stop him from quietly investing himself in her shows. An orange comb in one hand and a half taken down braid in the next, he grunted, giving his son a quick look before turning back to the TV. “Love you too, see you later, son.”
With his friends and Camilo’s mom, they spent hours at the mall. Everything was expensive and his parents weren’t rich or anything-his dad worked in construction and his mom was a social worker-so Duke didn’t buy anything with his allowance, not until they hit the arcade and then the comic book store right after. They had fun and explored the mall, then shared food at the food court until the five o’clock bus got there. It was just a fun, normal, spring day….
Until the bus rolled up on the block, and all of a sudden he got a gut wrenching feeling.
White and blue police cruisers were everywhere, their lights flashing violently in unison. Rubble crunched beneath his feet, a sharp scent of gun powder, spray paint and iron. Mrs. Molina tried blocking them from the sight once she figured out what happened, but it was too late. Duke saw white sheets laid over small bodies on the ground, red bleeding into the material. Officers blocked off the entrance and exit points of his apartment building, and surrounded the caution tape to keep people from getting any closer.
His ears were ringing, the light was so bright above him that it felt like an eclipse was slowly approaching.
Duke pushed past people, apologies dropping out of his mouth as his body moved on autopilot, closer to the yellow tape.
There were Keshawna’s dads, hugging each other, crying in the face of a cop. Christian’s black and white basketball was on the ground, deflated next to a white sheet and a sign that read ‘# 7’. Duke looked around the crowd, pulling out his phone to call his parents, but it rang and rang and rang-
“Sorry, kid,” the cop stopped him right before he crossed over the yellow tape. “No more-”
“My parents,” he said, his breath becoming quick. The phone in his hand went to voicemail. “My parents, they-we live here, where are they? Have you seen them?”
The cop thought, then lifted the tape, dropping a hand over his shoulder and brought him over to another cop.
Minutes turned into hours, hours turned into night.
The whole time, Duke couldn’t stop staring at the vivid, bright purple and green ‘J’ that was written on the floor of his living room.
The Joker had been there.
He’d killed people outside, most of them kids, and then he and his henchmen kidnapped everyone else.
It had all gone to crap from there.
There was no family who could take him, he was thrown into a juvenile detention center, and then escaped with some other kids. He missed school for a long time, ran the streets, gathered up a criminal record just to try to find his parents. He’d been knocked down and beaten up, starved for a long time, hurt because he wanted his mom and dad back-
And now, he thought, sitting in the hospital room, holding his mom’s hand-thin and bony and nothing like it had been before-he wondered, Maybe it would’ve been better if they had died back then?
Finally for what felt like years, Duke and Bruce were allowed into the hospital room. It smelled sterile, the light of Gotham City’s skyline spilled through the blinds of the brightly lit room. Duke took in both his parents-his dad, thin and broken, lying with a mask on his mouth and a machine hooked up to him. And then his mom-black restrains on her wrists and ankles, muttering something in her sleep.
The doctor met them. Duke sat in the chair with Bruce standing behind him, a hand on his shoulder as the doctor explained.
“Your parents conditions….” the old, black man started out, his hands folded heavily in front of him, “We aren’t sure exactly what the Joker did to them-”
“What’s wrong with them?”
The man nodded his head. “Your father…he is clinically brain dead, son-”
Bruce squeezed his shoulder, Duke asked, still hopeful, “But he’ll wake up, right? He’s breathing, his pulse-”
“Mr.Thomas,” the man gave him an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, son, but no. He’s breathing and his heart is still beating, yes, but there is no brain activity occurring right now to make that happen. We’re keeping him ‘alive’ by those machines attached to him…Waking up is not an option anymore, son. It’s impossible…I’m sorry.”
Water filled his vision, his throat growing tight. Duke breathed in heavily, pushing back the grief as his voice choked, “And..and my mom?”
He said, “Your mom is alive, yes. But as you can see,” gesturing to the black on her wrists, “She’s in restraints. We ran some tests and it seems that Mrs.Thomas inherited a genetic disorder that was rapidly induced by whatever the Joker did to her, and to other victims like her.”
“What disease?”
The look he gave Duke was nothing but doleful, sending his thoughts spiralling just as he opened his mouth- “Huntington’s Disease-”
A sob spilled out of his mouth. His hand ripped from his lap and dropped onto his mouth- Huntington’s Disease.
The doctor tried to explain, “It’s-”
“I know what it is.” Bruce’s hand squeezed a little harder on his shoulder, then moved over the top of his back, rubbing circles there to try and comfort him when both of them knew that it wouldn’t.
The doctor nodded his head. “Okay, so then you know what that means, yes?”
Duke closed his eyes, pushing back the water threatening to break through. “...that she might die.”
“Yes, Mr. Thomas. I am so sorry, but there is nothing we can do for your mother except make her comfortable.”
Bruce’s deeper voice spoke above his head, “How is the progression? What stage is she in?”
“Rapid, I’m afraid.” He reached for a manila folder, opening it and pulling out several thin, laminated sheets and placed them on the table. They looked like brain scans. Duke couldn’t understand what the images mean, so he paid attention to Bruce’s thumb on his shoulder blades, and how they grew softer against his back when he leaned over to look at them…the man’s own way of saying ‘I’m sorry’ without meaning to.
Another sob broke out of his mouth.
It’s bad.
And it is bad.
Duke hadn’t understood most of what the doctor said that day, he didn’t need to, to know that the disease his mom had was the same one that took his grandpa. He’d seen the man plenty of times over the last years of his life and already knew what the signs were. Hallucinations, paranoia, mood swings. One day his grandpa could walk and the next he was attached to a bunch of tubes and machines. His funeral came a couple of months after that. He had watched his mom’s grief like a shadow and had been one of the many things she hugged to make herself feel better.
Duke had never thought he’d ever experience that kind of grief….now? He couldn’t believe it was happening so soon.
Here he was, dressed in a uniform more expensive than anything he’d ever owned, for a school that he never would’ve had a chance to go to, in a hospital that he could’ve never afforded if it wasn’t for Bruce’s help, and he can’t show it off to either of his parents. Neither one of them would ever get to know that he would be going to one of Gotham’s most prestigious schools or would be able to thank the man who made it happen.
He wore his new school uniform-blue pants and a white button down, a red tie hanging over a blue vest that was tied by someone else’s hands.
Duke tried to be grateful-Bruce had moved his parents into a nice room at Duke’s request, and was paying for their treatment. His parents had raised him to be thankful when someone else helps and to be respectful to adults. Still, he had to swallow all of those dark feelings that swelled in his chest and the slight resentment he had for Batman for not stopping the Joker a long time ago, or the police department for not trying harder to look for his parents.
Sometimes it was hard to do that-to stop the anger and all of the ‘what if’s’. Thankfully Bruce made it a heck of a lot easier by being someone he could lean on.
The soft knock on the wood door was an exact example of that. Bruce gave it a few seconds before pushing the door open a crack and poking his head inside, meeting Duke’s eyes with a comforting look. He didn’t need to say anything, Duke already knew that his time was up.
Duke gave his mom’s hand a squeeze one more time and kissed her on her cheek, and then walked to his dad’s bed to give him a hug. His body was stiff and barely warm-Duke tried not to think about it and pulled back. “Wish me luck, dad….”
With that, he waved them both goodbye. Turning to meet Bruce at the opened door.
His first day of school at Gotham Academy….and neither of his parents would be there to see him off….
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