Forced Awareness Series: Confrontation - Dick
Title: Confrontation - Dick (Forced Awareness Series)
Fandom: Batman
Characters: Dick, Tim, Bruce, Alfred
Genre: Family, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: (This Part) Mention of sexual situations, violence.
Summary: Dick’s POV during the hunt for the brooding bat.
Word Count: 2,882
Disclaimer: Sadly not mine, I just like to play with them.
A/N: I started this two years ago. Things happened and it got forgotten. Well now I’m going to make sure it gets finished as it deserves. If you want to read the previous parts here they are -- parts 1 and 2 of Opportunity, parts 1 and 2 of Regrouping, parts 1 and 2 of Brothers and Alfred's Interlude and part 1 of Confrontation.
When Tim sleeps, he is beautiful. In that moment, he is a boy like any other. I enjoy watching him while he sleeps, though my younger brother has made it emphatically clear that he hates it. It’s a chance to see the boy that will never be, the one that got left behind when he joined us-Bruce and then, later, me-in our life. Or... No, he followed me to Bruce, and I have to smile at the memory of a very determined thirteen-year-old showing up at Haley’s Circus.
I don’t think he regrets the choice he made back then. No, I know he doesn’t. Tim thrives on this life, even though it has cost him. But I can’t help worrying, especially after recent events. A glance over at the clock shows that it is almost seven pm; he’s been out for not quite eight hours. That’s positively indulgent by our standards, but he needs it.
It’s as if he heard me and is determined to be contrary. Lying next to me, he shifts and stirs. One eye cracks open and his sky-blue gaze is accusatory. My fond smile widens. “Don’t worry,” I mutter soothingly. “We still have about two hours before dark.”
Tim tries to sit up, but the hand I have on his chest prevents him. Mostly.
“Dick, let go,” he growls and I give a heavy sigh. And so it begins. Of course, nothing says removing my hand from his chest means I can’t touch him elsewhere. Like his hair, which is always so much fun to ruffle. Especially when he pouts like that. It’s even better when he huffs. Yeah, I’m feeling accomplished as I sit, grinning at him.
Right, I should let him up. He needs to eat and Alfred already knows Tim is awake because he’s Alfred and he is aware of everything that happens in the manor. Which means, that if we don’t get ourselves to the kitchen soon, he’ll be walking through that door with a lecture on his lips.
Tim is doing that thing with his mouth like he’s got a terrible taste he can’t get rid of. I get behind him and push a little, not that he needs any encouragement. “Go on. Alfred is probably gonna have something wonderful to eat and it would be a shame if you couldn’t taste it cuz of morning breath.” That gets me a look that should a death glare but isn’t, which really says a lot about a great many things. Some of which I don’t want to examine too closely.
As he heads to the on-suite, I lie on the bed in his now-vacant warm spot. “Any dreams?” I have to ask. My little brother has managed to become quite adept at having very quiet nightmares.
“Nothing distinct,” comes the somewhat garbled reply. It’s an evasion and we both know it, but I let it go.
“How are you feeling now?” It sounds like such a stupid question, but it’s necessary. We can’t afford to assume, and mental check-ins are important--unless you’re Bruce. He just pretends everything is fine and carries on. I’ve been working hard to make sure Tim doesn’t follow suit. At least, with him I can bombard his freaky brain with logic until he’s honest. Bruce just tunes it all out.
“Hungry and needing to stretch.” He comes out a moment later, his hairline damp from the water he’d splashed on himself. He sighs as he stands there, looking at me. I’m not entirely sure what he’s seeing.
I get up. “Come on, let’s go reassure Alfred that we haven’t done anything stupid, and see what kind of noms he has for us.” Right on cue, he’s giving me the annoyed raised eyebrow treatment.
“Noms?” His voice is thick with disdain. “This is not the internet, Dick and I’m not a LOL-cat.”
“No, but you’re cute like one,” I tease, which gets me another snort. Then we are heading downstairs. Sure enough, there are wonderful smells wafting from the kitchen. Something very familiar, but not something that Alfred cooks often. I’m literally following my nose as, hands on his shoulders, I propel Tim into Alfred’s domain.
I can’t see it since I’m behind him, but I’m pretty sure my brother is making one of those quiet little happy faces of his. There is a freshly-baked pizza on the counter.
“Ah, there you are, young sirs. Have a seat, whilst I cut your pizza,” Alfred says, utterly calm. There is no trace of worry in his movements. But he made pizza, which happens to be Tim’s all-time favourite meal. We sit.
There are tall glasses of milk awaiting us. Some things never change, even though I’ve long since stopped growing. I glance at Tim. There probably isn’t too much hope for another growth spurt for him either, but the milk can’t hurt.
When he brings the pizza over, I can see that yes, it is the cheeseburger monstrosity that my little brother favours; cheese, ground beef, cheese, bacon, cheese, onions. Did I mention cheese? There is a reason why Alfred only makes it on rare occasions. But I catch the elderly retainer’s smile as Tim takes his first bite
I’m certainly not about to pass up the treat. I dig in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
True to my word, we’re in costume about two hours after waking, just in time for dusk. Before we suited up, Tim scrutinized the blood sample, and then did some stretching exercises. I have to admit that concerned me. He’s always been extremely contentious about the preventive nature of a proper warm-up and cool-down, but this was even more meticulous than usual.
When he moves to the uneven bars I find myself relaxing; a few concerns alleviated. His routine isn’t perfect, but he’s not suffering. Bruce must have been very careful, despite his obvious... impairment.
Once night has fallen, we take the bikes into the city. Robin and Nightwing don’t lack for things to do, but there’s no sign of the Bat. Okay, so we both knew finding him wouldn’t be easy, but this is annoying! And I’m back to wanting to kick him in the head a few times. Possibly other places as well.
For his part Robin, is unfailingly patient, which makes me all the more antsy. I have ridiculous flashbacks to my days as Robin with Batman. He does that being-still-for-hours thing very well and seems to have taught it my little brother.
Finally, around midnight, we hear something promising: an alarm at a museum. Ten to one odds, we’ll find the stubborn ass there. Except we don’t. One look at the trussed-up would-be robbers, and it’s painfully obvious that we missed him. Probably only by moments. Damn it.
Tim has his game face on so tightly that my scalp hurts in sympathy. We really need to find Bruce soon. The kid may say he’s fine, but eventually he’s going to crack, and when he does, it will be messy.
We keep busy, as there is no shortage of situations needing our attention, but the next hour and half crawls by painfully slowly. The convenience store robbery is about as large as it gets. None of it is big enough to attract Batman’s attention unless he’s already in the area. Which he obviously isn’t. Even he wouldn’t put civilians in danger just to avoid us. Right?
I nod to myself. Robin is moving off, headed for the next r-point when there is a call on the scanner about multiple shots fired in the area of Bastion Park, a place well-known for its sordid night life.
It actually would take longer to retrieve the bikes than to swing over there. I don’t even have to look to know that Robin is already on his way. It’s an ingrained reaction at this point.
We are still on the move when we hear the explosion. Tim and I approach from the north-east. There is a smoking pile of something to the south. Between that something and us is a full-on war between two gangs, complete with the liberal use of guns. Well, crap. Right. By the numbers then.
Robin and I split up, but we are never far from each other. Getting cut off in this kind of a mob would be a very bad thing. Start with the gun-toting idiots, which are most of them, actually. On some level, I register movement to the south, but my lizard brain decides it belongs in the non-threatening category, and I focus on taking out a pair of bangers that are more likely to shoot each other in their efforts to get me. Brilliant.
A small part of my mind realizes that the guns in the south aren’t firing as rapidly. Are they running out of ammo, or...? Then I see it from the corner of my eye, the familiar flare of his cape. Bruce. About bloody time. Okay, think about hog-tying him later, there are still too many guns to contend with. Too many able bodies.
It’s always a little surprising how quickly things move from “daunting” to “done.” The bangers are all down and we focus on making sure they stay down. This bunch is going to seriously deplete my zip-strip supply. I’m a little startled, but very relieved to see the Bat piling up the guns. I’d honestly thought he’d leave that to us and bolt.
Just like at the museum, Gotham’s finest are already on their way, which means I can focus on keeping an eye on Bruce. Tim and I talked while we were getting ready in the Cave. My brother wanted to be the one to approach Bruce. I can agree with that, but it means that I can’t back Bruce into a corner, except as a last resort. Before either of us can make a move toward him, the jerk is flying, leaving the area, looking for all the world like he’s about to continue his goddamn patrol. Oh Tim, I’m not sure I can keep my promise to you.
It’s not an issue just yet. Robin and I both head off after him. He’s not actively trying to lose us, which has to count for something. I just have no idea what. Looking at Robin, I can tell that he’s okay with this situation. ‘Okay’ being a relative thing, of course. So we keep pace, moving with him, functioning silently as a team. One could almost think it’s just a normal night with the three of us out together. Except for how it isn’t.
I’m not sure what I’m hearing, but it has that bad-wrong feeling that usually means that Nightwing is going to be busy. Robin points to the windows of a tenement across the street and up half a block. Someone, no, two someones are moving around in it, which isn’t unusual in itself, but a woman’s scream puts things in a very different context. There. We’re moving, bursting in on what turns out to be a home invasion in progress.
An elderly couple are tied to chairs. The woman’s has fallen on its side, and she’s lying on the floor, with her hair not quite covering her obviously bruised face. And one of the perps is urinating on the bound, silver-haired man. Oh no. So not getting away with this crap.
Okay, so maybe I hit the guy relieving himself a little harder than necessary, but I don’t really care. Not at this point. The Bat is right behind me, taking care of the other one. It’s over in moments. Robin is helping the couple, but the Bat is lurking in a shadowy corner. Well, that’s normal, seeing as he tends to scare even the people we’re trying to help. Again, he’s not taking the opportunity to run, so maybe we’re making progress.
When Robin has the couple untied, he catches my eye. We say nothing, but the one quick glance tells me all I need. I gesture for him to go on ahead. I’ll stay with the couple while Robin follows the Bat. Of course, this means I’ll have no idea what happens between them, which worries me. Still, I did promise my little brother, so I suck it up and put a call in to the police, asking for an ambulance. I don’t think the woman’s jaw is broken, which is something of a miracle, given her age, but the couple should be checked over properly. They could have injuries beyond the scrapes and bruises I can see.
I decide to wait with them, since I can follow the tracers in the Robin suit to figure out where he has gotten to, and the couple really is that shaky. Thankfully, this is one of those times when the ambulance arrives almost immediately, because someone was in the area. I make myself scarce, but watch from the fire escape long enough to be sure that the cop coming through the door does right by the couple. The officer makes sure the perps aren’t going anywhere, and then gives his full attention to the elderly pair. Good enough. I fly.
According to the tracers, my brother, friend and lover is not far. Hopefully, our infuriating mentor is with him. When I swing up to the roof in question, they are both standing silently but it’s strained. Was it something said? I don’t know, but it doesn’t look like they’ve resolved anything. Fine, let’s just get the idiot back home and-
“Where to next?” Robin is asking Batman. He’s letting him take the lead? What?! Why? I wish I knew what he is thinking.
“South, to Robinson park,” is the reply and I can’t stop myself from frowning. Truthfully, I want Bruce to know how annoyed I am. But. It is early. We normally keep going for another half hour at least. Well, Robin would; then Batman would send him home so that he’s not completely wiped out for school. Tonight we have to make sure that Bruce comes home with us.
One obvious disadvantage to not living in Gotham is, I’m not sure what is happening in the town currently, which means I have to rely on the Bat to communicate what we’re looking for and who we’re after. It would be easier to get blood from a stone. I learn more from the various thugs we question, even if they can’t give specifics about the men Bruce is looking for. Apparently Intergang is trying to make inroads into Gotham. Again. It’s something that would worthy of Bruce’s obsessive tendencies under normal circumstances. Now? It’s a really good distraction.
I give our patrol that remaining half-hour, which brings us up to 3am. That’s it, we need to head back. All of us. Standing on the rooftop, I dust off my gauntlets. Loudly. Robin looks at me curiously.
“Right, good patrol,” I declare. I actually mean that. We’ve accomplished a lot, and Bruce can pick up the search for the Intergang flunkies tomorrow. Robin seems amenable to this, as he’s nodding calmly. Tapping the comm, he issues the necessary voice commands to call the bikes to us. I recall the burning pile of rubble from before and wonder who Bruce will choose to double with.
Bruce clearly has no intention of going anywhere with us. Not home, at least. Cursing under my breath, I take off after him as he leaps to the next rooftop. Again, he’s not exactly running from us, just using the usual patrol speed. Part of me wishes he was outright running from us; then I could feel better about doing something to stop him. But until he does, I have to reign in my desire to throw a bolo at him. So I say nothing as we continue.
Robin is quiet, inscrutable as he follows the Bat’s lead, and that makes me want to scream just as much as Bruce’s behaviour. Goddamnit! Maybe I can sign us up for a verbal communication course. And family therapy? A call to J’onn is actually not such a bad idea.
When 4am rolls around, I’m through with being patient. This stupidity has gone on long enough. Batman has his grapnel out, ready to take off once more. I silently beg Tim’s forgiveness, as I reach out and put a hand over the apparatus. “Batman. Enough.” I move in front of him to make damned sure he understands that he’s going to have to go through me if he really wants to leave.
The way he goes still is his version of surprised recoil. He really thought we were just going to follow him around and do nothing? Some detective.
The three of us stand there, as a silent battle of wills rages. “Move,” he tells me.
“No. And if you leave, I will get the tranqs out.” I absolutely serious about that one. “You can decide what you will and won’t talk about, but we ARE going home. Now.”
I’m not sure when, but Robin has moved very close to us. And I can almost feel the... it’s not a plea, but he is mutely asking for Bruce to listen. He has to listen, or this is going to become even messier then it already is.
(End. Next, Confrontation - Tim)