Chapter Text
Returning from patrol, the bitter stench of wet asphalt and cheap engine oil from Blüdhaven clung tightly to Dick’s throat. Then, the phone rang. A call at this hour always brought a haunting sense of foreboding. Standing in the dark apartment, Dick's fingers tightened around the phone, as each word crackled through the speaker, the plastic casing groaned under his grip.
On the other end, Wally’s choked sob broke through the line, distorted and cut off by the static of a stormy connection:
"...They found... debris... in Ethiopia... Dick... I'm so sorry... the funeral ended two days ago..."
Dick’s fingers went slack. The phone fell in a dead freefall, striking the edge of the glass table with a sharp click before lying still on the dusty floor. The world around him suddenly tilted into a terrifying silence. Two days...? Jason had been dead for two days...?! Died in pain, buried in some freezing, forgotten dirt, while his older brother knew absolutely nothing?! No! It couldn't be! His little brother was a good kid, he was supposed to become a hero, honored by everyone. Not lying silently in a nameless grave at only fifteen!!!
By the time Dick snapped back to reality, the speedometer needle on his motorcycle had already hit the redline. The engine’s roar tore through the torrential rain on the highway connecting the two cities. The wind screamed, driving icy needles of water down the collar of his armor. His arms were rigid, veins bulging beneath his leather gloves as his grip fused to the handlebars.
BANG!
Dick flung the heavy oak doors of Wayne Manor open, slamming them violently against the ancient stone wall behind them.
Total darkness. The vast manor loomed cold and empty, devoid of life save for the rainwater dripping from the hem of his jacket onto the hardwood floor in clear, echoing droplets tap... tap... The freezing air rushing into his lungs made him nauseous. He bolted, his mud-caked boots thumping heavily down the stairs leading into the Batcave.
Down in the cave, the cooling fans of the massive supercomputer emitted a monotonous, bleak hum. A pale, neon-blue light washed over Bruce’s towering silhouette. He stood there, motionless, like a stone statue. The hollow Batman cowl sat on the metal console, next to a few scattered microchips.
"Bruce!"
Dick’s scream cracked, shattering against the damp limestone walls.
He lunged forward, grabbing the armored shoulders of Bruce's suit, throwing his entire body weight to wrench him around. Bruce turned with the force, but his body was as heavy as lead, he didn’t fall, he didn’t even step back. His eyes were dull, pinned to a crack on the cave floor, completely hollow.
Dick’s chest heaved frantically. He deliberately avoided that face, his gaze locking instead onto the long scratch across the bat insignia on Bruce's chest, then shifting to the mud-stained utility belt, and finally looking into the vast darkness of the shadows behind him.
"Say something! Open your mouth and say something!" Dick screamed, his hands moving to clutch the collar of Bruce’s armor, shaking him violently. "Tell me Wally is lying! Tell me he's pulling some sick, twisted joke just to mess with me! Tell me that kid is still up in his room, sneaking a book and refusing to go to sleep on time! Bruce! Answer me!!"
Bruce still didn’t move. His jaw clenched, tight enough for the muscles in his cheek to twitch repeatedly.
"Are you mute?!" Tears spilled over Dick’s cheeks, hot and bitter. He roared, his voice hoarse: "Open your mouth and deny it! Tell me you didn't leave him to die alone in that rubble! Tell me you aren't the one who secretly buried your fifteen-year-old son in the dirt without a single word to anyone! Why did you bury him like that? What did you want to turn him into? Did you want to strip away his right to be loved? Or did you just want to turn him into an unclaimed corpse?!"
Plop.
A single drop of water fell from the cave ceiling into the underground lake below. The tiny sound echoed through the silence. Bruce just stood there, his hands hanging limp at his sides, making no move to push Dick away, nor showing any intention to defend himself.
"You're doing it again..." Dick let out a sharp, breathless laugh, choking between sobs. "Every time something happens, you hide behind this facade. What is this silence for? To prove you're always right? Or is it because to you, Robin is just a title, one dies, and you just find another replacement?!"
Dick shoved Bruce back with all his might.
"I always defended you, defended your honor. But as it turns out... everything people say about Batman is true." He wiped the tears from his cheek, his voice dropping to a lethal, razor-thin whisper. "You are a cold-blooded monster, Bruce. You adopt us, teach us to fight, and when we die, you quietly discard us like a broken piece of equipment. You never needed a son! You just needed a random kid to act as a meat shield for you in this goddamn war, didn't you?!"
Dick took a step forward, getting right in his face, spitting each word:
"For ten years... I thought I knew you. I thought you were my father, that this massive mansion was a home. Turns out I was wrong. The biggest mistake of my life was believing that a man like you had a heart. You don't know how to love anyone, Bruce!"
Bruce didn't even blink.
Twisting his body and drawing power from his hips, Dick swung a straight punch with every ounce of his strength right into Bruce’s jaw.
THWACK!
The sound of flesh colliding echoed sharply. Bruce’s head snapped violently to the side.
Out of a combat habit drilled into him since childhood, Dick immediately took a step back, raising his hands in a defensive guard, his knees slightly bent. Every muscle in his body was taut, his nerves stretched like piano wires, ready for a reflexive sweep, an arm lock, or a violent shove from him. He stood there, panting, waiting for Bruce’s thunderous wrath to rain down upon his head.
But nothing happened.
Bruce stood perfectly still. He didn't dodge, didn't block, didn't even brace himself to absorb the impact. Dick's punch was heavy enough to send the massive frame stumbling sideways, but he slowly stood upright again, as motionless as a stone monolith. From his split lip, a streak of brilliant crimson began to seep out, slowly trickling down his angular chin before disappearing into the crevices of his dark collar armor.
At the sight of that blood, Dick’s raised hands suddenly went completely limp, dropping uselessly to his sides.
The adrenaline rush in his blood plummeted instantly, leaving a hollow, freezing sensation creeping down his spine. The battle he had braced himself to fight was over before it even began. This passive submission brought Dick no satisfaction, it only left a profound, crushing disappointment. The man standing before him was a complete stranger. He wasn't the father who used to scold him whenever he messed up, nor was he the person who would take his wounds and shelter them. He was just a soulless corpse, freezing himself alive and shutting Dick out to the margins of his world.
Dick realized that no matter how much he screamed or tore things apart, this cave would never answer back again. The chain anchoring him to this place had been severed by Bruce himself. He was abandoned, right inside his own home.
Dick took a step back, then another, staring at the blood on Bruce's lip with hollow, hopeless eyes.
"I am never coming back here again," his voice was hoarse, entirely drained of life. "You killed this family with your own hands. You didn't just lose Jason, Bruce... Tonight, you lost me, too."
Dick turned his back. His heavy boots pounded against the iron stairs, the hurried, frantic echo of his footsteps ringing through the dark cave as he fled. He bolted up into the manor, threw open the front doors, and walked straight into the pitch-black rain, never once looking back.
The heavy oak doors slammed shut with a deafening crash, severing the very last trace of warmth from Wayne Manor.